#no beta bc i almost cried two times while writing this

[late-night-secrets]

It was impossible to not at least fall a little for Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the world – and your colleague. Both of you started working as teachers at Jujutsu High at the same time. Back then, you had heard of him, of course, but with you graduating from the Kyoto branch, you had only met him a few short times, even less had talked to him.

He was just like everyone said: Loud, cocky and extremely powerful. His whole presence had pissed you of at first, but just after a few weeks and one or two very mature moments of self-reflection you had realized it was admiration. Admiration and envy. Because he was the strongest and infuriatingly good at everything he did, and why on earth did he have to start teaching at the same time as you?! People would compare the two of you, naturally, and there was no chance against him. It was outrageous.

And the worst of it all: He noticed you (How could he not when he had arrived terribly late at your initiation and you and Principal Yaga had waited for over an hour?), he knew you (How could he not when he grew bored within the first five minutes of Yaga’s speech of the school’s principles, had asked for your name and used it ever since when he was greeting you?), he seemed to like you (… How could he?).

To be fair, it’s Gojo Satoru. He smiled almost all the time and seemed to be endlessly excited about everything and everyone. If he disliked someone, he had no problem with showing and saying so, and at some point, you noticed, he had never said he disliked you. No, quite the contrary, when he was bored, he was looking for you bothering you while you had work to do; nagging, poking, invading your personal space, whining about a lack of attention right in front of your class to a point where you had to kick him out. When you were getting lunch, he joined you without being invited to or asking to be; as if it had always been like this. He chatted with you about everything and anything at all, and you chatted back. Because you had realized Gojo Satoru might be a nuisance, but he was good and kind, and that was nice company to hang out with, you thought.

One day in winter you went into the teacher’s lounge in between classes to grab a quick cup of coffee and found him… existing there for whatever reason. You just gave him a short greeting, not paying attention to what he was doing, and immediately went for the coffee machine. Instead for a greeting in return, you were met with silence first, and then a: “Are these yours?”

You looked up to see him holding one of your gloves. It looked incredibly small in his large hands.

“Yeah, why?”

When he turned to you, you couldn’t see his eyes, but you imagined they were wide open with surprise. At least that was what his hanging jaw indicated. “Are your hands that small?”

You raised your eyebrows in offense. “I find them perfectly fine.” To prove your point, you raised your hand, palm facing him.

Without hesitation he put his against yours to compare the size of your hands. His infinity was off, and skin touched against skin. “Woah, they really are small!” He put his hand and your glove down and made his way to the door. “Anyway, gotta teach. See you.” And just like that he left.

And you were left standing there, your palm still tingling from the contact of his warm hand and your heart pounding a tad bit too much. A part of you wanted to react with humor, throwing an exaggeratingly desperate “What are we?” after him which he would have definitely heard. But you couldn’t because your voice left you for a minute or two. Why was your heart still pounding? And why were you frozen in place repeating these few seconds again and again in your head?

Retrospectively, that palm-on-palm encounter was most likely where it all started. You began second-guessing all of his interactions with you, everything he said. For a first, you realized that he was very touchy with you, seeking your proximity: His fingers brushing against your arms nearly every time he was talking to you. As if he wanted to pull you closer. Or your fingers always touching when handing him something. Walking unnecessarily close to you, or shifting after you sat done, so there was merely an inch left between your arms or legs. Perhaps it all happened by accident, but your heightened attention caused you finding it more significant than that; and it occurred too frequent to call them accidents at some point.

Another thing you noticed was the staring. More than once you felt a tingling sensation at the back of your neck, and when you turned your head, you would find him looking at you. It was a bit difficult to distinguish whether he had actually been observing you or something lying in the same direction, with his blindfold and all. But most times when being caught he would either smile or quickly turn away.

And lastly, and most importantly, the way he spoke to you. It created butterflies in your stomach. He wasn’t particularly flirty, not more to you than to anyone else, but he seemed so carefree when he was talking to you. There was all this nonsense and his jokes, of course, no one got spared, but with you he seemed to relax in a way that sometimes made him turning a conversation to more serious matters to which he not only contributed cold facts but also his very own thoughts and concerns; his opinion and worry on certain topics, he shared them with you. The moment you realized he didn’t do that with everyone, your heart fluttered, somewhat prideful of the fact that you were someone Gojo Satoru confided in. You felt special.

It made you think of him outside of work; about interactions with him, involuntarily reading into them. That one time the teachers of the Tokyo and Kyoto branch had to group themselves into pairs of two for a field day activity for the students, and Gojo pretty obviously used his Six Eyes during drawing lots to get paired up with you? Yes, he wanted to be teamed up with you, but why? Because you had more patience with him than Urahime or Nanami? Or because he enjoyed spending time with you, liked that you laughed about each other’s jokes? Because he liked you? Or that one or two times when he pinched you out of sheer boredom in one of the meetings and then snickered at the way you squeaked and slapped him on his shoulder as a punishment? Or that time around Christmas when there was decoration all around the city and you and him were on a mission and he had spotted a heart-shaped Christmas ball that he wanted to hang on your uniform?

You tried to think about it rationally. Despite hanging out with him so often, you barely knew him. You had no idea where he was born, if his parents were still alive, what his favorite color was, which kind of music he enjoyed listening to, whether he had a partner. It would make sense, that last part, because this was Gojo Satoru, the strongest, the most handsome, the wittiest of them all. How could he still be single?

On the other hand, wouldn’t he have mentioned them at some point at least? Hm, not necessarily; he was the strongest which also meant he had lots of enemies. He probably didn’t want to put anyone in danger who was dear to him.

Okay, then: Would he act towards you like he did when he was already happily taken? Maybe? Maybe not? Probably not. Right?

It drove you mad. You could hardly concentrate on your work which affected your results, and that drove you even more mad. It was ridiculous. You were a grown adult and felt like a teenager with your funny, little feelings for that dashing colleague of yours. Surprisingly, every time you spoke to or ate or worked with him, you found yourself maturely nonchalant considering the turmoil he caused within you. Quite the opposite even: When you saw him, you felt at ease and the storm inside your head calmed down.

You fell for him.

It was maddening.

You decided to tell a friend – that you were crushing on your coworker, not who said coworker was exactly – and they managed to give you enough courage to ask him out. “He will say ‘No’ if he’s not interested. Or if he has a partner, I guess,” they said. It would be the first time for Gojo and you to meet privately. After pondering for hours you texted him whether he wanted to grab a coffee sometime this week.

He took an awfully long time reply but after six hours full of agony you received an answer: “Yeeeeees, sounds like fun! ^^ But I’m not in the city this week :(“

You texted him back, suggesting a day next week. Once more, many, many hours passed. He’s a highly demanded sorcerer, you reasoned, he’ll be busy.

He replied that he couldn’t say for sure whether he’d be in Tokyo next week but not to worry, you guys would manage somehow.

His words were encouraging but at the same time you felt a little Pang in your chest that it didn’t work out as planned. But, rationally speaking, it was going well; he agreed on meeting you and that gave you hope.

When he didn’t text you at the end of next week and you hadn’t seen him at school either, you dropped another message asking about his whereabouts. His answer came the next day, that he was fine but also very busy.

You suggested another time for the coffee, and this time he agreed.

All of a sudden, you became nervous. It wasn’t as if you two had never met before, or if you had never spent time alone with him. But for some reason, this felt different. Nonetheless, you were excited when you were getting ready. Sometime on your way to the café, he dropped you a message that he would be sitting inside the café waiting for you. With excitement you noticed that he was actually on time for your… meeting (you didn’t dare to call it a date). And when you spotted him sitting inside, wearing his sunglasses rather than his blindfold, your heart skipped a happy beat.

The greeting was warm and full of smiles; it had been quite a while since you two had last seen each other with missions and all. You got your drinks and started chatting about what you had done in the last couple of weeks. You were talking about your classes, about that especially annoying curse you had had to take care of on your supposedly free day, and some family business you had had to attend to.

After that, he told you about his super top-secret mission – abroad even! – he had been sent to, about how he had finished it with so much ease (of course) that he had been able to return back to Japan earlier than expected “… and thanks to that I spent a few days in Kyoto, that’s where my girlfriend lives.”

He continued on, talking about some new sweets he had tried, or was it about some old colleague he had met? Either way, you couldn’t pay attention. It sounded so cliché, but you were quite positive about hearing your heart shatter after he had said that last sentence. Your mind stopped working for a good minute before you snapped back and feared that he realized.

Was it just your imagination or had he gazed at you a bit more intensely than usual when he had said “girlfriend”? You didn’t know and you couldn’t skip back and replay that moment.

You wished you could. You wished you could stop everything right before he said that awful sentence. You wished he was joking but he hadn’t been using his teasing tone. You wished you would wake up and realize that you just had one of those horrible nightmares that hit a bit too close to real life scenarios.

But nothing like that happened. And just like that, within a second, your heart was broken; unintentionally even, you thought so at least. Gojo wasn’t the type to lead someone on. He’d be a bit flirty with everyone, yes, but he wouldn’t want someone properly fall for him when there wasn’t a chance. He wasn’t cruel to people he liked.

And yet there you were. The meeting was very nice; lasted for hours because the two of you had lost track of time. That was even worse. If it would have been awful, you thought you could eventually live with the fact that the two of you clicked at work but nowhere else, but that didn’t appear to be the case. Just like usually, you guys could easily joke around, talk about stuff related to work but also to some more private matters; teasingly banter about your favorite dishes being the whole opposite of each other but agreeing on the problems of the Jujutsu society.

Only when you were alone at home, you allowed yourself to let the fact sink in that Gojo Satoru had never been romantically interested in you. That all of his acts and words were nothing but platonic. Perhaps even an expression of mutuality that you mistook for romantic affection. And maybe that was the reason why you fell for him at the first place, because he interacted with you without any ulterior motives.

During the hours you spent with him at the café, he hadn’t mentioned his girlfriend a second time although there had been some possibilities. You also hadn’t dared to ask; either because you had feared to cross his borders, or because a part of you wanted to pretend she didn’t exist which meant you knew nothing about her except for that she lived in Kyoto.

You wished you had known beforehand because then you might have never properly fallen for him. But what had happened, had happened.

And all you knew was that you had to work with him while trying to make your stupid, little feelings fade away. You had no idea whether you would manage.

**********

masterlist

[crescencestudio]

Intertwine Post-Mortem

i lied. i don’t know if this qualifies as a post mortem. i don’t even know what a post mortem is LMFAOkxkak

but this is my post intertwine release “devlog” chock full of dev experiences, behind the scenes looks, and more for those who want to know more about the process of creating intertwine and thoughts i’ve had in reflection of release/experiencing otojam!

it’s long bc in usual crescence fashion, a bitch loves to talk. so buckle in gamers!

my thank u offering for all the downloads and reviews

Committing to OtoJam

for those who didn’t know, i entered otojam on a sort of Whim. because i am deep in the alaris trenches, i didn’t want to distract myself for too long from my main game, especially when there are people who have paid to support development. after talking to some friends, i thought otojam would actually be good for me. i’d been struggling with burnout and was in a creative rut. on top of that, i’d been doing this dev thing for almost 2 years with no full game to show for it (cries). even if otojam would take time away from alaris, perhaps it would give me what i needed—a kick of Motivation, a dash of Creativity, and some GD Fun.

so i decided about two days into otojam to officially enter it! And thus Intertwine made its appearance

the graphic that started it all

Oh, we are Otojamming

the intertwine editing team assembled and we got to work. because i already had a pretty solid idea of the game (it had been an idea i was sitting on for a while), there was less time spent on brainstorming and more time spent on writing and editing the script. for playtesters, i already have a group for alaris, and a couple of them kindly offered to playtest intertwine for otojam. i spontaneously decided to cast a va after some discussions with the editing team, and max joined. then, with One Week left of otojam, faefield productions entered the scene!

regarding development, the first month was largely dedicated to the script. weeks 1-2 were writing and fleshing out. weeks 3-4 were dedicated to editing and fine tuning. when my editors were reviewing the script, i was creating all the art assets. after the first month, i would say we had most of the gui, one cg, and the base sprite done!

at that time i felt pretty good. we were making good progress! i even was productive on alaris and irl work!

then the Second Month happened lmao.

i always forget the Horrors of fine tuning a build. i’m projecting right now, but i’d argue a lot of developers forget or underestimate the fine tuning/ quality testing stage. during the 4th-6th weeks of otojam, i wrapped up all the assets needed for the beta build. i finished the remaining cgs, all sprite expressions, and the rest of the gui. then i coded all the features into a beta version: learning how to create a messaging system for the first time, nailing the multiple iteration mechanic, cutting and editing the voice acting audio, and other Horrors that i’m sure i’ve since blacked out from my memory all happened during the sixth week of otojam. i was truly in the Coding Trenches.

BUT i got the build done and was able to send it out to playtesters for a week of quality testing. spoiler alert: the build wasn’t perfect and there were many bugs that needed fixing. the seventh week—the second to last week of otojam—was dedicated to this as well as my own tinkering so that the build felt completely Perfect (making sure expressions r exactly how i want them, transitions and audio fade perfectly, animations are perfect, that godforsaken clickable string to get to the next iterations that No One was clicking. all of the tiny aspects that make a game feel really polished). I am Not good with grinding. Suffice to say this was probably the most miserable week.

me every hour: DID U CLICK THE STRING

But once again WE MADE IT! Near the end of the seventh week, orpheo of faefield productions reached out to me and after gushing to each other about how big of a fan we are of one another, we spontaneously collaborated for a custom OST. Enter the eighth week, and we were ALL grinding. playtesters trying out a second build within only two days. editing team making fine tuning edits for the best script. coding. voiced lines that needed the slightest bit of tinkering.

Come 3PM on june 30th (otojam ends 6pm june 30th) and i’m coding the new music room, adding and double checking the new ost, and more. Two hours pass and it’s 5PM. We have less than an hour to submit. 5:30something comes by and with shaky hands, i release the game page and submit to otojam.

flashbacks to college 11:59 deadlines fr

On top of last week crunching, i was also dealing with extreme prerelease stress. i’ve never released a full game before. a demo, i can change. i can still tinker. this isn’t the final product. But a Full Game? My god. what if ppl hate it? or worse, what if ppl are so apathetic, they don’t even look at it and it gets sent to the void? after all, this year’s entries are stunning. they are Bold and Creative and Fun and intertwine is so….

Boring?

Some Lessons—Take Them or Leave Them

lesson 1. don’t listen to prerelease anxiety. that is the devil talking to you. if u have friends at least they will play and be nice to u. if u don’t have friends and no one plays, well it’s not the end of the world!!!! there’s always the next game. and u fckn know what? at least u Made that shit. keep ur head high, icon.

lesson 2. have fun and take care of yourself. the reception to intertwine has been amazing. i couldn’t be happier with it. but at the end of the day, the reason i look back on otojam fondly is because of the very dear friends i had to support me and have fun with me thru it all. life is meant to be enjoyed. it’s meant to be about memories, not metrics! never forget what’s truly important in life (cheesy, everyone boos me, but i’m right idgaf)

where would i be without them

lesson 3. plan. there is room for spontaneity and flexibility. after all, u can’t guarantee everything will go to plan. but with otojam being a crunch, plan as much as you can beforehand to not stress urself out during it. with intertwine, i had a somewhat outline and at least a pretty good idea of the concept, game mechanics, narrative design, mood board, etc. i had character concept art of van. if i had to do all of this during otojam we wouldn’t have made it i’m so srs. i also think when u plan as much as u can before, u have more room and time to have fun during! more polished build and more loving memories it’s a win win.

early concept art tbh i never thought it’d see the light of day

Typical Brand of Crescence Cheesiness

if you’ve made it this far ur a real one. all i have left to say is thank you for the support. while i was proud of intertwine (until the last week of otojam lol), i didn’t know what the response would be. to receive so many kind words has been unbelievably heartwarming.

as i said before, i’ve been in this game dev thing for 2 years with nothing to rly show for it. but during otojam, i could really feel the skills and experiences i’ve gained shine thru. i had a better handle on narrative design, coding things, integrating gui, and even more dev friends to talk to (thank u to all my friends who have played and messaged me U DONT KNOW HOW MUCH I LUV U). it was rewarding in a different sense compared to releasing a game, and i really am glad i did otojam to give me that perspective <3

a lot of things seemed to cockblock otojam this year (or so i’ve heard) between the sheer amount of entries (go us tho), the release of a lot of aaa otome games, and then twitter literally breaking less than 24 hours after otojam ended. even with all that, i’ve been so humbled and honored to see ppl enjoy intertwine. the comments i’ve gotten have honestly made me emotional, with many of you comparing it to games that i heavily admire and or expressing emotions i never would’ve dreamed to have been able to instill.

the otojam experience has been incredible, from the memories to the game to the reception. and i’m very grateful for all the people who made it that way! thank you for enjoying our silly little game made with our grubby little fingies. i hope you all continue to enjoy intertwine (and the other otojam entries from this year) and van!

i luv u all!

[esta-elavaris]

So where my writing is concerned, my fam falls into two camps - "she's a delusional idiot who needs to realise she's not 9 yrs old anymore and being a published author isn't a realistic goal", and uh, people who aren't arseholes.

But because the former category is bigger and more vocal, I'm so used to being on the defensive whenever the topic arises whenever the topic is brought up by any relative who is not my brother.

Was talking to my aunt (the nice one, not the psycho one) last night and basically describing the beta reader process bc she doesn't know much about it, and I immediately found myself being like "well because of that, and because it's fantasy so I'm having to literally build everything from the ground up, it's taking a while - but like, it will get finished, it'll just take time. But it'll happen." and she blinked at me and just went "well, obviously it will?" like she couldn't believe I even felt the need to insist that.

And like, compared to other relatives who use my birthday every year to be like "oh? 27 huh? Still not published, then? Hm. Interesting." it was such a surprise and such a breath of fresh air and I may or may not have almost cried.

[nxrthmizu]

Second Place ; Miya Osamu.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | miya osamu x fem!reader

w.c | 2.2k

genre | fluff

warning(s) | slightly suggestive, implied sexual content

author's note | i've been wanting to write this for a while! so here it is <3 it's not beta read and I didn't use a lot of metaphorical filling so it's not that poetic but eh Idc bc ✨ self indulgence ✨

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Once upon a time, Miya Osamu swore that he would never settle for second place again— He was never going to let another Miya score first place while he stood in the shadows. The twins had split paths after graduation, stepping onto stages where they'd never have to compete against each other for the spotlight again.

... Okay, who was he kidding. He'd be compared to Atsumu for his whole life— It wasn't like a different career would change that. Besides, his aunts were way too bored to not spin up something about him and his brother during family gatherings.

"Atsumu's making more money, isn't he?"

Well duh, he was a professional volleyball player, of course he made more money— Osamu wanted to roll his eyes in front of his aunts to make sure they understood that he heard their hushed whispers— But then again, he was an adult now, and he knew better than to stoop that low.

The comforting grip you had on his wrist also helped.

Things did get slightly better for him, though.

"Atsumu, your brother's already married," Osamu overheard his second aunt say to his twin during his wedding reception, "When are you going to settle down?"

The grey-haired Miya couldn't help but have a grin on his face for the entire night. Granted, the fact there was a silver ring on your finger also helped. You were absolutely radiant that night, and Osamu couldn't have been happier to finally be able to introduce you as his spouse.

Osamu's marriage did tilt more pressure towards his twin's way, because not more than half a year later, Atsumu caved in and found a sweet little thing to share his life with. The setter had had a couple flings here and there in his earlier years— But none of them ever lasted that long, and Atsumu had never introduced them to his brother, which is how Osamu knew that his twin really cared about the girl when the golden-haired man visited Onigiri Miya with her hanging on his arms.

If he didn't have the decency to help his brother maintain a good image, Osamu would've straight-up snorted at how tense his twin was when he served onigiri up onto their table, the shop empty with the exception of one table. It was almost like Atsumu was seeking Osamu's approval— Which was hilarious enough without the fact that the setter was nervous about it.

At the end of the night, it was as if the weight of the world was lifted off Atsumu's shoulders. Kaoru— The name of Osamu's potential sister-in-law— Got along wonderfully with you, who kept the shy-but-bright woman entertained as Osamu dragged his twin into the kitchen to make fun of him.

"Oh, go easy on him," You elbowed him lightly as the two of you closed up the shop for the night, wiping down the tables and tucking the chairs in. "Atsumu genuinely cares about her, he's making an effort!"

Osamu let out the snort he had held in for most of the evening. "I wouldn't be his brother if I didn't make fun of him."

"Boys." You muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. You had been around to catch the tail-end of some of Atsumu's previous relationships, so you could tell that Kaoru was different; In a way, Atsumu looked at her the same way Osamu eyed a nice piece of mackerel in the grocery shop.

"I heard that! C'mere," Osamu grinned, tackling you from the back. A smile burst across his lips when a giggle erupted from your lips, a cloth rag smacking him in the face when you tried to wriggle away from his hold. "You aren't getting away, pumpkin. Save your energy for later."

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, yelping when he was smacked with the rag again.

"There won't be a later if you keep that up." You warned, laughing when horror instantly swept over his expression. His protests echoed in your ears as you thought about how this marriage was something you'd never regret. Yes, it was rough because his business took off on a rocky road, but you knew there was no gain without pain, so you hung on and saw him through to the fruits of his labour.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The next family meeting was graced with the presence of Kaoru, who, in turn, had been graced with your advice.

"Dress decently, do not wear black," You had warned her the night before on the phone, grimacing at the memory of your first Miya family dinner. No one had aunts more judgemental than the Miya twins. "I would suggest going with a dress. Oh, and it might help to bring a gift. A bottle of Ginseng Wine might be a good idea."

"We're here," Osamu parked the car outside the family home, subconsciously wincing at the sight of his aunts' vehicles. "... Ah. They’re here."

"I see they turned up early," You grimaced, "Atsumu and Kaoru-chan are going to have a brilliant night."

"Yup." Your husband grinned slightly at that, earning a smack for smiling at his brother's suffering. "Oh, he'll be fine. We'll mention that when Atsumu really needs saving." The wink he sent your way made your stomach butterflies flutter, but the warm touch of his fingers on your hand made them settle. "We'll be fine," Osamu's eyes softened as he met yours, reassuring you. "You've got me, remember? Worst case scenario, we'll just high-tail out of there and say we need to work tomorrow."

"Right," You released a breath of relief, interlocking your fingers with his. "Ready?"

"To see Atsumu suffer?" Osamu quipped. "Hell yeah."

And suffer did Atsumu. Kaoru wasn’t spared (of course she wasn’t—) and was judged from head-to-toe by the Miya's critical aunts. From the way they were eyeing her, you'd think they were the judges of Miss Universe instead of potential aunt-in-laws. Despite that, Kaoru braved the storm and stood strong through the whole night, her resilience shining with her determination to be with the other Miya twin— Osamu nodded his approval at that.

After dinner, the family gathered in the living room, with the elderly seated on the cushioned couches while the twins were squashed together on a bean bag (that you had to convince them to share, because apparently they were adamant about pushing the other off of it). Kaoru and you managed to snag a small corner of a couch, stifling your laughter at the sour faces of your respective significant others.

"So, Kaoru-san," Four heads collectively flinched when the aunt opened her mouth, "What's your job? Yearly salary?"

"Um, I'm... I'm a newspaper editor," Kaoru fidgeted with the strap of her bag while you resisted the urge to snap at her to look as confident as she could if she didn't want the interrogation to go on for the rest of the night. A shy, nervous thing like her would only make the predator's lick their lips at the sight of easy prey.

"Oh! That makes sense," The woman sneered, Osamu's mother not-so-discreetly turning up the volume of the television in hopes that the conversation would be drowned out. "You definitely dress with the salary of an editor."

Offence flashed across Atsumu's face like lightning, but before he could start a fight to defend his girlfriend's honour, Osamu dragged his brother back onto the bean bag and stood up.

"Excuse me, everyone," Osamu put on his practiced customer-service smile flawlessly, capturing everyone's attention instantly. "Y/N and I have an announcement to make." His eyes met yours, and you nodded, a smile waltzing across your lips.

"Mother, father," You begin, addressing your in-laws like you addressed your own parents. Encouragement swirled in your blood as Osamu interlocked your hands and squeezed your fingers. "You're going to be grandparents."

It took a while for the news to kick in.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Osamu's mother cried out, rushing to envelop you in a hug that you gracefully accepted. "Do you know the gender yet?"

"Of course not, mother." Osamu rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "We're not that far along yet."

"That's amazing! Congratulations!" Kaoru beamed brightly, not having picked up on Osamu's timely intervention.

"Thank you." You replied warmly.

"Well then, are you going to stop working?" The first aunt shot at you, smirking, coy as ever. She knew that you weren't the type to drop your job just because of an incoming child.

"Of course not." You replied easily, "What kind of spouse would I be if I couldn't help carry the financial burdens with my husband?"

She shut her trap instantly, huffing in fury. Osamu had never looked prouder.

The family rejoiced for a little longer, and from the tip of your ears, you heard Osamu gloating slightly about having reached another milestone earlier than his brother.

"I love you," Your husband murmured into the crook of your neck as the two of you cuddled in the warmth of your bed, too far for his aunts' sharp words to hurt you. "And our little boy in there.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“... Father’s instinct.”

Months flew by in a blur, and so did doctor appointments, Sunday shopping trips with Kaoru as you left Atsumu to help Osamu in the restaurant. The pair would drive the half-an-hour trip from Osaka to Hyogo every weekend. This arrangement elicited a couple silly arguments between the twins, of course, but once you taught Kaoru the stern look that would make the two settle like guilty puppies with their tails between their legs— Those arguments became simple matters to handle.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Kaoru asked you while the two of you sipped on coffee.

“I have a couple in mind,” You smiled. “Osamu won’t stop going on about how he was right. The baby’s a boy.”

“Boys will be boys,” Kaoru rolled her eyes. Then, her expression changed to a wistful one. “This might sound odd, but… I just find myself thinking, sometimes… One day, I want what you and Osamu have.”

“... A happy marriage?” You raised an eyebrow, “Honey, you’re already on your way to one. Atsumu looks at you the same way ‘Samu looks at a bowl of gyudon. Or the way I look at a bucket of mint ice cream with peanut butter…”

Kaoru made a concerned look. “The baby sure craves some odd things.”

“You’ll experience this one day.” You returned pointedly. “Logically, I never would’ve thought of eating mint chocolate ice cream with peanut butter slathered on… But cravings are cravings. And it was surprisingly nice.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

After nine long months of waiting, Miya Tomohito was welcomed to the world. Osamu cried (Atsumu made fun of him for it before getting smacked by Kaoru— She was learning a lot from you). Both yours and Osamu’s parents wouldn’t stop gawking at your baby boy, with his little tuff of dark hair, his tightly-fisted hands and the slight cherry-red flush of his cheeks. You never thought you’d fall in love at first sight— But your son was living proof that you were wrong. From the first moment you held him in your arms, you had already given a piece of your heart for him to hold in his tiny little hands.

It quickly became a regular sight for frequent customers of Onigiri Miya to see Osamu walking around the shop, a sleeping baby boy strapped to his back. The two were inseparable. Once, you walked in on your husband having a full conversation with Tomohito, who was sucking on a spoon.

“I’m thinking of adding a twist to my tuna onigiri recipe,” Osamu said, as if he were talking to an adult and not a three-month old baby. “Do you think adding a squeeze of lemon juice will make it taste better?”

“Gwa.” Tomohito replied intelligently.

“Great suggestion, Tomo.”

“Mmm.”

“I see. We could go to the grocery store later to get some tuna and try that recipe tonight.”

“Ba.”

“You’re a genius, Tomo.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

“I can’t believe you.” Osamu looked helpless. “You’re not… You’re not seriously doing this to me.”

“I’m completely serious.” You said firmly, having put your foot down with no room for argument.

“You’re really choosing him over me?” Your husband’s jaw dropped when you nodded solemnly. “I’m your husband!”

“And he’s my son.” You shot back instantly.

“You’re kicking me out of our bed for our son?”

“He’s sick!” You refuted. “I need him to be as close as possible to me. His fever hasn’t gone down completely yet and I can’t let him go back into his cot tonight. Besides, you might get sick if we all sleep in the same bed. Who’ll take care of the shop then?”

Osamu drooped visibly. He couldn’t believe what was happening— He had lost to a Miya once again— Now his son instead of his brother. “Fine.” He mumbled sadly. “Make your poor husband sleep on the couch.”

“It’s only for one night, ‘Samu.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Tomohito's name is written as 智仁. '智' means intelligence and '仁' means compassionate. I have a friend named Tomohito.

Also, when I was writing this I reminded myself to make sure I made the reader gender-neutral. That is, until I realised that I made the reader pregnant. I am an idiot.

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @animegirlweeb @cemeiia @haikyuushuffle

[savrenim]

hi hi hi. so I just got into the Hamilton fandom, I swear I am four years late where did everybody go, and, well. I am apparently a hamburr shipper. bcs that is my life now. anyway I saw your fic ifmlam and I swear it is my favourite of all the fics I've ever read (and trust me I've read literally thousands). I love it so so much, how do you write fics like that??? I cried about four times during the whole thing, I stayed up till 4am reading it even when I had to wake up at 7 because it is just. that. good. I could not stop thinking about it for days afterwards and ifmlam has just ruined me. I can't think of listen to Hamilton without thinking of ifmlam anymore.

on to my qursttion: is it abandoned? of course it's perfectly FINE if it is. don't let anyone tell u differently, your fic is YOURS and u are amazing.

but pls I really need closure from ur fic, it has been haunting me if its abandoned or ongoing and I've read ur other fics and they are just chefskiss and thank you so much for writing them all. thank you thank you thank you, I will never be able to thank you enough for writing this fic and for everything it's done for me. I am probably thousands of miles away but I am sending you virtual jugs through a co.puter screen right now.

(don't feel pressured to reply to this or update it flam, I know how overwhelming it can get with so many messages and after a while u get desensitized to it. u can literally reply "thx. itfmlam is abandoned" and I would still be amazingly star struck. anyway has gotten way too long and I need to sleep and I'm sorry u probably won't see this so I'm just talking to myself right now but bye!!)

and thank you so so much for writing itfmlam.

aaaah hello anon!

thank you so so much???? I am so??? honored??? that ifmlam rates so highly to you, and also that you've read my other fics??????

the answer to the "is ifmlam abandoned" question is probably the worst possible one, which is pretty much "I do want to finish it, both for the folks that still want closure as well as it bothers to me have abandoned projects that are in the public eye/ already partially published, but also, it is last on my current writing projects list"

my current actually active writing projects list, kind of in order of priority, is

I'm literally three chapters away from being Actually Fully Done with the not-quite-first-not-quite-second let's call it 1.5th draft of an actual?? full?? original?? novel?? Opus which of course then goes out to beta readers and then gets who-knows-how-much edited and then maybe beta readers again if a lot does change and then a copyeditor my mom, my copyeditor is my mom, and maybe my little brother he's one of the betas but is very good at catching typos and then I!!! get to publish it!!!! which is the single thing I am most excited for!!!!!!!!! this should be closed up in the next week or two, and then take a while for people to actually read the draft and get back to me.

I really desperately want to finish my open-but-like-90%-written fic, which means we raise it up, the final chapter of to the bottom of the river bc I realized that it was kind of incomplete, and the second chapter of a buried and a burning flame because any more work there will need to wait until the author publishes the next book in the series. this should be closed up in the next month or two.

Speedwrite the draft of the second book of the Opus series so that hopefully by the time book 1 edits are happening, I have an almost complete draft of the second book. this is mostly me side-eyeing myself about taking nearly four years to write the first book, but that is solidly in part because I had so many other open projects which point 2 is about clearing that docket. this should be done in the next year.

And then just have my major projects be, at least until books 1-5 are written and published, books 1-5 of that because that is arguably the first major 'plot arc' of the series, so if I'm looking for a pause point on writing, that's probably where to stop.

There are two or three other short side projects (a weird fun second person short story tentatively titled witch-queen, a collection of four short stories Memoirs about a not-so-evil necromancer and the shenanigans he gets up to trying to rule a kingdom, working title Perfectly Normal Recipe Blog which is a collaborative project about a perfectly normal recipe blog that definitely doesn't include anything out of the normal) that will happen when they happen

There are other projects that are on the backburner -- The Numanok Files, a series of probably 12-15 short novellas about a mercenary/ bounty hunter esque person in space whose specialty is dealing with hauntings, but, like, 80% of their jobs is actually "you are effectively a space home inspector pointing out faulty wiring reacting to solar flares/ there's a weird alien fungus/ it's carbon monoxide okay change your atmosphere filters" and 20% of it is punching ghosts; there's a post-post apocalypse novel that I want to write that I know characters and general pacing and half the setting but need to work out the other half and figure out how much aesthetic I want to commit to; there's Strangeside7 aka spacerace book that is my reaction to how much I love how Redline the anime movie commits itself to "no we are about a race, like 60% of the screentime is just fully going to be an utterly ridiculous sci fi space race"; there's even a ridiculous YA trilogy that I would have to completely transplant the setting but might end up writing because the interplay between angel-physics and physics-physics was one of my favorite things in the world. and I guess the weird ridiculous technically a sequel series to ifmlam that was going to be published as original books that was basically me having fun with 'okay I fucking love star wars prequels old rotting space bureaucracy galactic republic style' except with seers and that also still might happen because it does have some of the coolest sci fi concepts and honestly I thiiiink that's all?

but the tl;dr of that timeline is I'm trying to finish a punch of projects Right Now, so that I can write books 2-5 of Opus, and then when I'm done that (which honestly, my average fiction-writing output is close to 100k a year. if I'm concentrating purely on one project, and writing books that are about 100k, we are talking four years. although my job situation is super up in the air in that period and writing might get put solidly on the backburner as I try to make it in academia, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I will re-evaluate which projects go next, and that's when ifmlam is likely to come up for review.

I do not have any expectations that I will make it as an original author. I'm planning on posting all of my stuff online for free, but, like. it is incredibly difficult to convince people to try out even a piece of free and easily accessibly original work even if one has a huge following, I am a very small fanfiction author, and from what I can tell the majority of the people who are interested in my work are mostly interested in me finishing ifmlam. writing is a hobby for me, and while I'm writing mostly for me--and hence the for me bit at least for the next five years is pretty solidly going to be this series that I am deeply excited about and have sunk my heart and soul into every single aspect of--I'm human, and I don't really like shouting into the void, and I expect if I spend five years publishing to absolutely no response I will either stop writing for a while and do other things gods know my life is busy enough, return to fandom in general to write some other fanfic about whatever I get deeply into, or return to a work that I actually get response to. so ifmlam will probably start getting worked on a bit at that point one way or another. unless, of course, we are in the incredibly rare timeline in which I do make it as an original author, there are people who are deeply hyped for my original works and an actual demand for them, in which case as you may have noticed there are enough ideas there to keep me busy for a decade or two, and they will just get my full attention instead of fanfiction*. in this timeline, I will do what I was considering doing a few years ago, which is officially declare ifmlam otherwise abandoned and make one more giant chapter update which is a full and cleaned up outline of what I was going to write, interspersed with the scenes already written, and have ifmlam be given at least that closure.

*I want to make it clear that I very much love fanfiction and am proud to have been a fanfiction author and in my heart of hearts would keep writing it forever, I just also have a lot of ideas for characters and settings and magic systems and Aesthetics and I have been biting at the bit to write something that is //mine// and all mine and only mine for a while, I don't see original work as superior so much as there are a dozen fandoms that I am currently in and bursting to make content about except oops these fandoms currently only exist in my head, and I want to correct that

of course given how much as writing is my vent activity and I write what I'm in the mood for, there's a chance I'll feel ifmlam cravings before then, just... expect it to take a couple of years for an update, but also for there to be an update one way of another in a couple of years? but as for right now, I'm turning to original writing, because that is what brings me joy.

but I am really deeply honored that it brought you so much joy!!! and while I will never publish spoilers in a public place, if you message me off anon I am perfectly happy to give a run-down of my current plans for the ending, bc I know "wait a couple years and see" is not the most satisfactory of answers! and hey maybe you'll be like me and once you've given Opus a try you'll decide you like it better too, it does have Seers although they are deeply different Seers than in ifmlam but imo it's very gay and fun and at least politics on one side

[ddaenggtan]

hearts on fire | jhs

Hoseok has been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he’s beyond excited to see you married and glowing.

He just really wishes that he was the groom.

pairing | jhs x reader, knj x reader

word count | 6.5k | cross posted to ao3

genre | angst, light fluff

warnings | angst, mentions of blood, mentions of vomit, lots of choking, lots of angst, this is open ended so like.......potential (?) mcd??, like this is very very very open ended yall there is no happy ending and there is zero satisfaction at the end, like it’s truly just here to hurt you

a/n | part of Outro: Tear, The Angst Now Told, and you should really read all of those fics bc they hurt so good but they’re sO WORTH IT, and i’m shouting out to @personawife​ not only for betaing this, but also for putting the Outro Tear Angst Collab together, because it’s been so fun!!!!! and yet so painful!!!! in so many good ways!!!!!!! this was honestly really fun to write, mostly because it’s rare that i write angst - unhappy ending angst, at that - so it was nice to stretch my creative muscles. 

also go stream ego bc its wonderful and i love it

It starts, as most things do, with a kiss. 

It was innocent enough - just a soft peck on his cheek and a sunflower in his hand while he cried about another student kicking him in the shin. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that did it for him. Maybe it was the way the sunlight lit up the barrettes in your hair and made them glint like stars. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t hesitated to smooch him on the cheek and give him the flower you’d picked out of a vase just to cheer him up. Maybe it was the fact that it had worked when nothing else had. Maybe it was none of that, instead something bigger altogether and more complicated than he could ever understand. 

Or maybe it was all of it. A simple act that led to a simple reaction - him taking your hand and making you smile with some face he made - that led to this moment. 

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches you walk down the aisle in the off-white dress with the golden sash that perfectly matches the sunflowers in your hands, he doesn’t care. Because it all led to this moment. 

[then]

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late!” You call over your shoulder. Hoseok laughs, wrapping his hand around your wrist to slow you down from your sprint. 

“We are not going to be late,” He tells you firmly. Your lips form a pout that he wishes he could kiss away, but he resists the urge. Instead, he grins and pulls you into a warm hug. “It’s not like they’re going to start our graduation without us, Starshine. It would be a little conspicuous, don’t you think?”

“Ooh, conspicuous, big word! All that studying paid off, I see.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes; he doesn’t mention that he’s been studying his ass off ever since you started crushing on one of the bookworms in the school. He refuses to acknowledge to himself that he did it in the futile hope that it would make you notice him. 

“Hey, it was worth it! Got me into that fancy university, didn’t it?” He wags his brows and lets go of you, and he does his best not to let his arms linger around your waist for longer than they need to be there. 

“Yeah, that fancy university that’s a million miles away from here,” You complain. His smile falters a little, and he covers it with a dramatic gasp. 

“What’s this? Is my little starshine going to miss me?” He doesn’t tell you about the packet laying on his desk at home, about the scholarships he’s scoured the internet to find, about the decision he has yet to make, despite the looming deadline. He doesn’t mention the sunflower pressed between the pages of a book that sits beside his bed, so he can stare at it each night as he wonders whether it’s stupid to take the harder road just for love.

“You know I will, Hobi,” You tell him. You curl into his side, lacing your fingers with his. “You’re my best friend in the whole world. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you. Who’s going to make me study when I don’t want to? Or convince me that getting pancakes at two in the morning is a proper breakfast?”

Hoseok shakes his head. He knows exactly what will happen when you head off to school in a few months. You’ll meet so many new people, make boatloads of friends, create new memories and new jokes and new references, and he’ll be standing off to the side, waiting to hear about all of it. 

He can’t wait to watch you flourish.

“Who’s going to help you stop stressing out about your choreography, or your routines?” You ask. Your voice dips into a whisper, and it’s the most scared he’s ever heard you. “Who’s going to be there when I need someone?” 

He knows what you mean; he knows all about the anxiety that wracks your body every so often, the way your brain spirals and panics and can’t seem to bring itself down out of red alert. He remembers - in vivid detail - all the nights he’s climbed through your window to help you breathe in that rhythm your school counselor taught you, or just talked at you through the phone about some new song or dancer he found until he eventually heard your soft laugh.

He remembers the nights you called and called and called and eventually just sought him out, not even bothering to knock as you barged into his room because his parents adore you and don’t care to let you in whenever. You’re like a second daughter to them, something his sister gives him no end of grief about. He’ll always remember the way your hands felt against his skin as you tugged him out of his room and into the kitchen to make some kind of monstrosity, just throwing anything and everything into a blender or skillet, only to wind up going out to the corner store to get noodles anyway. 

“I’ll be here,” He tells you. His voice is as soft and firm as his fingers as he brings your chin up to face him. He wants you to look at him, wants you to maybe see after all these years just how easy it would be for him to move the earth if you asked him to. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Your eyes search for something in his, and he wonders if you’ll finally realize. If he’s finally told you about every single pang of love that he’s ever felt without even needing words. 

You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and playfully shove at his shoulder. “Not when you’re off at your fancy university a million miles away from mine.”

He covers the heartbreak with a deep sigh and slings his arm around your shoulders as you head into the building where your graduation is being held. He wonders what you’ll think of the sunflowers sitting on your chair, waiting for you to find them. 

Something tickles his throat, a hint of a cough not ready to be cleared, and he swallows it back. 

“About that…”

[then]

Asthma is what he tells you, months and months later while you both sit in your dorm room, curled under blankets. 

You’re preparing for your philosophy paper, pages and sheets and everything else strewn about your bed while he sits at your desk. The lamp is focused and bright as it shines on the metal and stone in his hands, glinting as he twists the wire this way and that. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying for your dance eval?” You ask him. He shoots you that half-smile, a quick glance so that he can finish wrapping the quartz in his palm. He hasn’t told you that he switched majors, that he’s now ‘undecided’ simply because he can’t keep up with the others anymore.

“Aren’t you supposed to telling me who made it their mission to disprove Kant’s entire career?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to,” You pout. He smiles, satisfied, at the stone in his hand; it’s wrapped in wire shaped to look like a tree. He never thought he’d be the jewelry-making kind, but thanks to a randomly-selected elective, he’s discovered he’s got a knack for it. 

Besides, he enjoys seeing the collection on your windowsill grow with each new thing he can make you. 

He extends the quartz to you -  a polished golden one that complements the tarnished brass he’d used to wrap it, the same colors as the flowers you love so much - and the way you light up as you take it makes his heart clench painfully. 

Something tickles his throat, too familiar now, and he does what he can to swallow it down, but this one is stubborn. It forces its way up his windpipe, giving him no choice but to try to cough it up. 

You watch, worried, as he rushes to the sink in your room, bending as far over it as possible so that you won’t see as much. 

It’s small, when it falls. Small and unassuming and spit-slick, he can almost believe it just fell out of the vase of them nearby, and he hopes that’s what you’ll believe as well. 

“Hobi?” 

He hates how small your voice is, how worried you sound as you listen to the ragged pants of his breathing. So he wipes his mouth, checks in the mirror to make sure there’s no blood, and turns back to you with a wry smile. 

“I’m fine,” He says softly. His voice is still hoarse, and you don’t look convinced, but he continues before you can argue. “Just asthma.”

“Asthma? You don’t have asthma, Hoseok-”

“I do,” He says quickly. “Developed recently. Strained myself too hard, weakened my lungs, or something. I don’t remember what the doctor said exactly.”

“But...your dance, how can you-” You cut yourself off with a sharp breath, and he can’t bear to see the heartbreak in your eyes as the realization hits, so he stares down at the scuff in his sneakers instead. “That’s why you aren’t practicing right now. You had to drop out of the dance program?”

You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, so he plasters a smile on his face that’s more convincing than anything else he’s ever done. 

“It’s fine, Starshine. Not all dreams come true. Besides, there’s other things I can do.” 

“But your scholarship, Hobi, I-”

“Already figured out,” He says quickly. It isn’t, not nearly, because he can’t just call his parents to say ‘hey I lost my scholarship because I’m hopelessly in love but don’t have the guts to say anything about it’ and he hasn’t had time to go visit them, either. The corners of your mouth are turned down, and your lips are pressed together, and it’s obvious you’re upset, and it hurts more than the roots tangling in his lungs. 

He crosses the room and slides some of your papers to the side so that he can sit across from you. You’re still holding the quartz in your palm, fingers wrapped gently around it like you’re afraid it’ll break if you squeeze too tight, so he wraps his own hands around that one of yours. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You ask him. Your voice is small and hurt, and he hates that he made it that way, but he knows it’s better than what would come if he told you the truth. 

“Because I didn’t want you to worry,” He replies quietly. “You’ve got exams and studying and papers to worry about. I don’t need to add to that. Besides, you’d just try to help somehow, and you do that enough as it is.”

“How could I possibly be helping you with this, Hoseok?” The look you give him is familiar and humorless and fond and it makes his throat tickle so he looks away. Stares down at the feather-soft blanket in your lap instead. 

“Just by being here,” He tells you. “Distracting me from it. It’s not important, that’s all. I can do other things.”

“Like what? Dancing has always been your dream, and now-”

“Like,” Hoseok interrupts, sliding the quartz from your hand and placing it with the other things he’s made you on the windowsill, “Making things, like this. For you. For everyone.”

You’re quiet for a minute. Your eyes linger on the collection of stones he’s decorated for you, that he’s worked on so carefully to make them as beautiful as you deserve, and he wonders if you can tell. 

If you can see it in every careful twist of wire, in the way his hands are always so gentle against your own, in the way he can’t bear to look at you for longer than a few moments but can’t bear to be away from you in the same way. 

“Well,” You eventually say, blinking back what might be tears. “I suppose we’ll just have to find you a new dream, then, won’t we?”

Your smile is weak and watery and doesn’t reach your eyes, but it’s still a smile. So he returns it, and locks his pinky with yours, and vows to himself to make sure you never cry for him again. 

[then]

"What is that?"

Hoseok looks up from the book he's got propped against the table. He hasn't been paying much attention to the conversation, too engrossed in the metalworking book his glassblowing professor gave him while you studied for an upcoming test, so your words surprise him.

"What's what?" He asks, looking around the cafeteria as if he can magically spot whatever it is you're talking about.

" That ," you repeat, stabbing towards him with your pencil. It's reflex that brings his hand up to his chest, and it's realization that has him clutching the pendant tightly, praying you hadn't really seen it.

"Nothing," he says quickly, tucking it back under his shirt where it's supposed to be. "Just a practice thing."

"Why won't you show me?" You pout. "You always show me your practice work."

"Yeah, because you always take it," He quips back with a laugh. You don't even try to argue, because you both know it's true. The collection on your windowsill has grown immeasurably over the last two years, and it makes Hoseok's heart stutter every time he lets himself consider why you keep all of them. Especially when some are so terrible.

"Seriously, Hobi, can I see?"

He starts to say no, because if there's one piece he's ever made that could tell you about his feelings, it's this. He should say no, should insist this once that you can't see it, but before he can, his hands are pulling the chain over his head and setting the entire thing gently in your palm.

He watches your mouth fall open and your eyes grow wide and he wonders.

He wonders what you see among the curl of metal; if the fact that he would do anything for you is obvious in the way it twists and turns on itself, looping around and around. He wonders if you can see, hidden between letters, how just being near you gets him through every day and makes it all worth it. He wonders if you'll be able to tell, between the pressed yellow petals, just how his chest aches; if you've put the pieces together, after so long, now that you're holding his heart so openly in your palm.

"'Remedy,'" You read, and Hoseok's heart jumps into his throat, even when he knows you don't know about it. "And some tulip petals? It's so gorgeous, Hobi, but what does it mean?"

"They're sunflowers," He corrects, almost scandalized that you could confuse the two. The petals are shortened, of course, cut so that they'll fit into the pendant without obstructing the text in the back, but still. "And it doesn't mean anything. Just something I wrote once in high school."

Your eyes light up. "You mean that poem you never let me read?"

"It was a song, actually," He mutters, but your attention is back on the necklace, looking for any hints about the secrets he keeps. Something soft tickles the back of his throat when you glance up at him and smile, the light glinting just right along the stones and casting golden beams along your features.

You look more beautiful than he's ever seen, and his chest aches with more than just the flowers taking root there.

"This is really gorgeous, Hobi," You tell him as you watch the way the light reflects through the amber beads along the edge.

"Yeah," He whispers as he watches you, drinking in the way your eyes widen in awe and the soft smile on your lips. "It is, isn't it?"

He wishes that moment could last forever, that he could tuck it away into a pocket and pull it out whenever he needs it, but he can feel the flower starting to work its way up his throat and he doesn't know how to hide that from you.

The coughs start right as someone calls out your name and his, and he tucks his chin into his elbow in an effort to hide it. He doesn't bother to look yet, just waves a hand as someone sits beside you, and by the time he's got the handful of petals tucked safely away in his pocket, you're deep in conversation with Namjoon about one of the classes the two of you are taking.

[now]

Hoseok decides, looking at you now, that you are happier than ever. 

You've said your vows and you've cried several happy tears and you've kissed more times than he can count, but you're still radiant. It's the glow of contentment, the promise of more to come, all coalescing to shine like stars in your eyes. 

"May I, Starshine?" He asks, extending a hand and pulling you away from your current dance partner. Yoongi doesn't look too upset about it, just smiles knowingly at you both as your hand folds into Hoseok's. 

You move with him as if it's second nature, and Hoseok supposes that it is , at this point. As many times as he held you this way while teaching you the steps, as often as he led you through them before today, you should be able to move out of sheer muscle memory. 

"Have I told you yet that you're sparkling, Starshine?" He asks, smiling along with you when you laugh. 

"I think that you're confusing me and the ring again, Hobi." 

On cue, he looks down at it. He spent so long on it, years of dreaming of what it may look like and months of trial and error and practice runs before he got it right. It was worth it, though; the ring does sparkle, takes the glow of your skin and the joy in your smile and amplifies it. 

Crafted to look like a sunflower itself, the ring is easily the most expensive thing he's ever made. Each petal sparkles with the same yellow quartz of that stone he gave you so long ago, and set into the middle is one large chocolate diamond that he spent entirely too much money on because it was already cut exactly the way he needed it. He'll never forget the way you cried when you saw it the first time. 

Hoseok's eyes meet yours, and he frowns at the tears he sees there. 

"Hey, none of that, Starshine. It's a happy day, remember?" He stops moving in the middle of the dance floor, hands moving to wipe your tears before they can fall. 

"I just...I'm so happy Hobi." He grins at your words, resisting the urge to poke fun, because of course you're happy. You just got married. 

You look up at him again, eyes still watery and he pulls you into a tight hug. 

"I love you so much, Hobi," you mutter against his chest. His heart flutters in his chest as he resists the urge to press his lips to yours right where you stand. 

"Yeah," He whispers. "Yeah, I love you too, Starshine." 

Someone taps him on the shoulder and he releases you, relinquishing his grasp on you so you can dance with Namjoon. The pendant around your neck sits beautifully, shadowed on either side by the white of the cloth, and he thinks for just a moment, that maybe he made that pendant for you, after all. 

He's worn it for years, of course, but the smile on your face when he slid it around your neck was worth it. It was worth being asked if you could have it, not entirely joking, and it was worth every single time you would fiddle with it during movie marathons, and it was worth every single night he held it in his clutched palm as he sat over the sink and coughed up the yellow blooms that you've strung up all over the reception hall. 

very day that you bugged him about it, how you asked every day without fail if you could have it. He knew you were kidding - mostly - but the light in your eyes when he finally gave it to you before the wedding today is something he’ll remember for the rest of his life, no matter what the future holds for him. 

It ends, as most things do, with a conversation. 

It was innocent enough - just a phone ringing in its place on the worktable and his hands covered in clay while he struggled to hit the screen with his elbow. To this day he can’t be sure what it was that he missed, exactly. Maybe it was the way that you’d been calling him less and less in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t noticed that he’d been spending too much time in the studio, pouring his soul into every shape he crafts and wire he twists while he chokes down petals. Maybe it was the classes the two of you shared and the projects you worked on together, that he assumed was friendly and not anything more. Maybe it was all of that, everything working in tandem in a way that he could never understand.

Or maybe it was none of it. Simple acts that led to simple reactions - being too busy for each other, not talking as often, coughing up sunflower petals - that all led to that moment. 

Either way, Hoseok decides as he watches the heart-shaped vase spin aimlessly on its wheel while you cry tears of joy through the phone because he finally - finally - asked you out, he can’t care.

[then]

Asthma? is what Jimin asks him, years later when they’re both locked in Hoseok’s newly renovated store, basically a hole in the wall that he saved and saved for with his online sales. Hoseok is curled over the workbench in the back, doing everything he can to catch the petals before Jimin can see them. 

When they eventually subside, long enough for him to gulp down some water and shove the red-tinted petals off to the side in a pile that’s been steadily growing for weeks now, Hoseok shoots Jimin a self-deprecating smile. 

He doesn’t even get a chance to lie to him. 

“How long?” Jimin asks him. There’s no softness to his tone; it’s all hard edges and naked truths, and for once, the exhaustion overtakes Hoseok. He’s so sick of lying. He’s so sick of carrying an inhaler he doesn’t need, of shoving sunflower petals into every nook and cranny he can find so that no one sees them, and he just wants someone to know. 

“Forever,” Hoseok answers simply. “As long as I can remember.”

“And you never said anything? Ever?”

Hoseok sighs, throat scratchy and raw, and he stares down at the ring he’s been fiddling with. “Would you?” He eventually says. 

When he looks at Jimin, the other man has a petal of his own in between two fingers and rubs it absently, distractedly, like it’s habit. When he looks up, Hoseok understands, and an understanding passes between them. 

Jimin goes back to the laptop perched in front of him while Hoseok continues to work on other orders, things less important than the ring burning a hole in his mind’s eye, begging to be made. 

He isn’t ready, he tells himself. He isn’t skilled enough yet. Maybe one day. 

“I’m getting the surgery,” Jimin says after a few hours of silence. Hoseok fumbles with the pliers in his hands, twists the wire the wrong way, and it all clatters to the tabletop. He doesn’t bother to catch it, either; he’s too busy staring at his best friend in shock. 

“Seriously?” He breathes. Jimin nods, and the air rushes out of Hoseok in the span of a heartbeat. 

Everyone knows about the surgery, just like everyone knows about hanahaki disease. It took years to develop and it’s the only known treatment, but there are always side effect. Always. Sometimes they’re minor, just losing your feelings of love for the person you have feelings for, or like the guy that just became allergic to the peonies that he had removed. 

But then there are the others. 

The people who lose the capacity to love altogether. The ones who never find anyone else, who never learn how to love another person, not like they loved the one that caused the flowers. Or the ones who just lose their emotions completely, and become essentially lifeless. Unable to feel love at all, or sadness, or grief, or joy, or excitement, or remorse, or anything. They just exist. 

“But...the side effects-”

“Aren’t guaranteed,” Jimin interrupts. “Plenty of people get the procedure every day and walk away fine.”

“Yeah and some of them turn into lifeless machines!” Hoseok counters. Jimin’s expression hasn’t changed. He looks steadfast, decided, and he’s barely looking away from whatever work he’s doing on the laptop, and it infuriates Hoseok. “You’re gonna sign away any hope that you have, any chance that you have, because it...because it hurts?”

“No,” Jimin says as he closes the laptop and slides it to the side. “Because I’m tired, Hobi. I’m so tired, all the time. I’m tired of keeping it a secret, and I’m tired of puking my guts every time I think about-” Jimin cuts himself off and closes his eyes, tight, as he swallows. 

When he opens them, Hoseok can see every emotion he’s ever had in Jimin’s eyes, and it makes his heart ache. 

“Aren’t you tired, Hobi?” 

Jimin’s voice is small, and weak, but it lingers in the air between them. It curls past Hoseok’s throat and then down to wrap around his chest, growing tighter and tighter with every breath. Neither of them break eye contact, and Hoseok wonders what Jimin sees in his face. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok eventually says. With that, the spell is broken, and he can breathe again, and he drags his eyes away from Jimin to look at the piece he’d been working on instead. “But I can’t just...stop, y’know? I’ve loved her for basically my entire life. I can't...I don’t even know who I am without that.”

Jimin’s quiet for a long moment, and Hoseok thinks maybe he’s not going to say anything. Maybe he got through to Jimin, maybe he won’t get that surgery. 

“Don’t you think that you should find out?”

[now]

Hoseok watches from across the room as Jimin spins you in a circle, both of you laughing brightly. 

Jimin’s suit matches your dress wonderfully; Hoseok doesn’t think anyone else could quite pull off the pattern on it quite like Jimin does in such an effortless way. He looks happier than Hoseok has ever seen him, more content, more at home in his own skin. 

He isn’t coughing, and he isn’t struggling, and everything worked out well for him. No more flowers in his lungs, no more lies to his friends, no more unrequited love left heavy in his heart. Just happiness and laughter and joy. Hoseok wonders if he’d be the same. 

His thumb rubs absently across the business card in his pocket. It’s been there since Jimin handed it to him, what feels like forever ago now. It’s worn, and faded, and torn, and old, but the doctor is still practicing, just got recognized by the World Health Organization for his work. There’s an appointment reminder dinging in Hoseok’s phone, and a business card in his pocket, and he still doesn’t know if he’s even going to go, because you look so beautiful. 

You’re surrounded by your flowers, and you’re glowing like the North Star, and he can’t keep his eyes off of you. 

“She’s gorgeous, right?”

Hoseok turns and smiles at Namjoon. The man looks just as good, decked out in the best suit money can buy, with crinkles in the corner of his eyes and a dimple in his cheek as he grins.

“Yeah, she is,” He says. Emotions clog in his throat when he looks back at you only to find you looking his way. There’s love in your eyes and a soft, private smile on your lips, and it makes his chest tighten. “She looks really happy.”

“She does,” Namjoon agrees. 

Across the room, you wiggle a finger, and the ring glints in the light. Hoseok stifles a laugh, and shakes his head. 

“I can’t dance anymore, so this is all on you, big guy,” He tells Namjoon. The other man looks more than happy to take him up on the offer, grinning sheepishly as he sets his drink down to make his way to you. 

You take Namjoon’s hand and pull him close as the music transitions into a slow dance. Namjoon presses his forehead against yours, and both your eyes close, and suddenly, Hoseok feels like he shouldn’t be watching. This feels private, intimate, in a way that he’s never been privy to.

His throat clenches and he can feel it in his throat. 

He nearly drops his drink, but he gets to a table just in time to put the cup down with shaky hands. He knew, he knew what would happen. He clenches his jaw and heads through the side door of the event space, barely chancing a glance behind him. You don’t seem to have noticed, thankfully, but Hoseok makes eye contact with Jimin. The younger boy taps his wrist, and Hoseok just heads outside. 

He doesn’t need Jimin to remind him that time is up. 

[then]

“You need what?”

Namjoon’s smile turns shy at Hoseok’s tone. Of all the things that Hoseok could have anticipated Namjoon would ask him for, of all the potential items that he’s been commissioned by the taller man, this was never something he expected.

Though maybe he should have.

“-you know her better than anyone, y’know, and no one can craft like you, Hobi-”

The nickname sounds wrong, suddenly; like poison on Namjoon’s lips, but Hoseok just plasters on his smile again, the one he saves for truly difficult customers who try his patience, and he prays Namjoon doesn’t recognize it. 

“No, I get it, yeah.”

“I just...it needs to be perfect. And you’re the only one that I trust to make it perfect.” Hoseok’s heart twinges in his chest, and he can feel the roots moving in his lungs. “I’ll pay you whatever you want, too, cost isn’t a factor, it just needs to be-”

“Perfect,” Hoseok finishes. Namjoon smiles again, sheepish, and nods. “It’s fine, I’ll make it. No charge.”

“Hobi, I can’t ask you to do that, not for free-”

“You didn’t,” Hoseok insists. “I’m offering. Consider it a...gift.” Namjoon’s smile is blinding, and he really must trust Hoseok with this, because he’s heading out just a few minutes after, already on the phone with you because the two of you are meeting for lunch. 

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised. It makes sense. It’s been years. Isn’t that the usual time people start to expect this kind of thing? 

A voice in the back of his head, bitter and cruel, tells him that he should have charged Namjoon. Should have made him pay an exorbitant amount, enough to keep the shop running through the months of the slow season, enough to help heal the wound in Hoseok’s heart, but he brushes it off. It wouldn’t have felt right, charging for this. 

Not when he’s had the design sitting in his head since he wrapped that first stone with wire, since he first learned how to make this jewelry. Not when he’s had pages upon pages of designs drawn out for years, since before he even owned his own shop. 

That was never his to design, though, he reminds himself as he heads into the workshop. He had no right to that design. 

Just like he has no right to you. 

[then]

Later, weeks and weeks later, In the darkness of his apartment, Hoseok cries. 

Hoseok cries for all the things he’s never said, all the things he’ll never do, all of the things that you don’t know. He cries for the late nights together and the impromptu adventures and the panicked phone calls. He’s been so blind, he’s refused to see it, he knows. It’s all been waning, all put on the backburner in favor of him. 

He’s the one you call when air can’t make it to your lungs. He’s the one you pull from work in the dead of night to make him sleep. He’s the one that gets to wraps his arms around you while you watch the newest episode of whatever show you’re obsessed with lately. It’s all him, and it will never be Hoseok, no matter how hard he wishes, because he’s too late. 

He spent so long obsessed with maybe. Maybe you’ll love him back, maybe it’ll ruin the friendship, maybe you’ll realize. For years and years, he said maybe, and now it’s too late, because you’re going to be saying yes to another man’s question, and Hoseok will be left in the darkness, no longer able to look at the stars in your eyes because you’ll be looking at him. 

For the first time in his life, Hoseok hates. He hates you for not realizing that he loves you; he hates Namjoon for taking the chance and asking you out; he hates the flowers growing in his chest that are just further proof that he’s alone in his feelings. Mostly, though…

Mostly, Hoseok hates himself, he realizes as he crumples against the wall of his living room. He hates himself for not taking the risk that Namjoon did, for not putting it all out there so that you could give him whatever kind of closure would come. 

And it’s there, sitting on his floor, surrounded by the remains of too many projects that he spent too long on that you’ll now never see, that he first begins to consider it. Everyone knows about the surgery, everyone knows that you can get the flowers removed, but that it comes with a cost. He stares, past his tears, past the colorful crystal remnants at his feet, and he considers. 

There’s already a numbness spreading through his body; it follows the same path as the roots of the flowers in his lungs, it runs parallel to the petals and seeds, and it only serves to highlight the painful ache that his feelings have caused. He’s already becoming numb to it, so why not? He may lose the ability to love forever, yes, but he can still be your friend. He can still watch you marry another man, this time without the itch in his throat and the flowers in his bile. So why shouldn’t he?

His phone rings, and he already knows it’s you. Not by the specialized ringtone - the only custom one in his entire contact list - and not by the blinking light that’s sure to wake him up in the middle of the night. No, he knows it’s you, because he knows that there’s no way Namjoon could have resisted the temptation to ask you tonight. He’s pictured what you’d look like a hundred thousand times, knows exactly how bright your smile would be as you said yes, how soft the tears would feel as he wiped them away, he knows. 

And now you’re calling him, to tell him the great news, or maybe scold him for not giving you a heads up about it in the first place since he’s the one that made the ring. Either way, you’re on the other end of that ringing, ready to tell him about the happiest night of your life, and Hoseok can’t…

He can’t resist it. It’s autopilot as he drags himself to where his phone is still ringing, and it’s only after a deep and shaky breath that he answers it. 

You don’t even give him time to speak for you’re launching into your squeals and happy giggles and how Namjoon did it, and Hoseok feels a reluctant smile cross his features. It only grows when you start to gush about the ring, complimenting his skill, and he can feel a bud trying to make its way up his throat, so he mutes his phone. He doesn’t want you to hear as he rushes to the kitchen sink, as he chokes and coughs and gags and eventually spits out a nearly whole sunflower. 

It’s not a big one, maybe an inch or so in diameter, and not fully bloomed, but it’s there, and Hoseok knows it’s more of a death sentence than anything. 

“Hobi? Are you there?” 

He wipes his mouth and clears his throat and leaves the flower in the sink with its red-stained petals so that he can unmute his phone. 

“Yeah, Starshine, I’m here.”

[now]

In the alley beside your wedding, Hoseok coughs. He coughs and he gags and he chokes, until the ground is littered with flower petals that aren’t from your bouquets, and blood drops and tears. He chokes until he can’t breathe anymore, until he has to reach in and pull the flower from his throat before he really does die, and it makes him shudder when he sees that it’s nearly fully formed, almost completely bloomed and everything.

He doesn’t think he’ll make it through the next one.

He stands up, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of the red suit he chose for this exact reason, and he looks through the window, to the space where you should be dancing with Namjoon. 

You aren’t, though. You’re watching him, brows drawn together, confused, and you’re saying something that he can’t quite make out through the glass. 

Fear strikes his heart. Fear that you saw everything, that you know everything, but directly after it comes relief, because he knows now. He knows what he needs to do, because he doesn’t think he can bear to have you watch him die, but he doesn’t think he can bear not to love you anymore, either; no matter what, he’s lost you, and that knowledge solidifies his decision. He holds a hand over his chest, and you mirror him, your fingers closing around the pendant he made so, so long ago.

You turn, looking for someone - Namjoon, maybe, or Jimin, to ask what’s wrong with him, and he takes the opportunity. He heads out of the alley, as fast as his legs can carry him, because he knows. 

When you finally make it into the alley, you don’t understand. Your best friend, your best man, is nowhere to be found. In his wake are flower petals, drawn out by the wind. 

One catches your eye, and you pick it up. It’s soft against your fingertips, and you frown when you see the red on it. 

You don’t ever see Hoseok again.

[nightlight-stardust-and-rain]

I fucking NEED to write a Homestuck reincarnation AU with the ancestors. So I'll do it.

Tbh it'll be mostly our favorites hemoanarchist (gods do I love this word) ; The Signless, the Dolorosa, the Psiioniic and the Disciple. Because I love them, that's why. (let's say the Psiioniic died with the others bc if he's not dead he can't be reborn. He was still the helsman but for a shorter time)

So at first I was thinking "they could be reincarnated as Karkat, Sollux, Nepeta and Kanaya" but then I realized that there would be no Karkat, Nepeta, etc... And I love them. So nope nope nope. So I decided that they would be reborn six or seven sweeps before the beta trolls, with the same sign, same blood color and pre-scratch names. They're raised by the same lusus as their descendants. Now there's three ways to do it. 1) everyone remembers. 2) nobody remembers but they have feelings and dreams. 3) only one of them remember. The 3 would be interesting and sad ! Lots of angst. But as much as I love angst, I couldn't write it to save my life. I'm just overwhelmed by the "I want them to be happy". The 2 would be very interesting to write ! Slow burn and pining and also angst bc "why the fuck am I dreaming about my wrists burning ???". Also "I feel I loved you for so long but we literally just met ???". Nice. But sadly, I'll write the 1 ! Because I want to.

So. They're hatched like seven sweeps before their descendants. At first, they live their life quietly. Since Alternia is... Well, a whole planet, they never met when they were young (that would be too easy. They'll meet way later). They think they are alone :( cue angst. But their life isn't so bad. Kinda. Signless (and holy shit he has a lusus ! With his blood color ! He misses his mother but he's happy to have a lusus : he never had one before so) learns to shout loudly with Crabdad (lol) and doesn't go out much (bc you know mutant) but when he does everyone he mets is baffled bc he's super nice ?? He's like those people who smile at you on the streets and even if you know you'll never see him again you fell a little pale something. Half of his neighborhood got a little pale crush on him (he's totally oblivious because guess what ! He's still in love with Psii and Disciple). He studies psychology and other alien civilisations online bc he thinks it's interesting. That's all. He gives advices to people (he got a blog. He's pretty famous for his advice ! Both because he's wise and because his advices is always pacifist). He thinks he's in a other universe (again !) and then he discovers the story of the Signless (by sheer luck, since the story has been erased everywhere by the Condesce) and he's just baffled because wow, he's thousands of sweeps in the future ! Wow ! And also because "does that means that the Condesce is the same fucking Condesce that killed me/us ? WHEN WILL SHE DIE". The Psiioniic lives with his bipolar lusus (nothing new, he' s bipolar himself) and is the best hacker of all Alternia (come ON, of course he is !). Every goldblood knows him, there's a rumor (that nobody takes seriously) that he's the reincarnation of the Psiioniic ! (every time Psii hears this rumors he laughs so hard he cries. It's just so... So funny) he uses his skills for hacking more or less everything, subtly attacking the Condesce (nothing major he knows he can't win), fucking with highbloods (and if he specifically targets those cerulean that act like pirates, those indigo with bows, those violets orphaners, that's nobody's business) and search for the others three, because despite thinking he is alone, there's still a spark of hope (honestly, if we're being realist, he probably would have found them in one or two sweeps since he's really good. But that would be too easy ! So no). The Dolorosa is not in the caverns (and is thankful for that, because after a lifetime outside, she isn't ready to go back to this claustrophobic darkness where she would search and never find a hint of candy red). She does clothes. She's very good ans even does clothes for highbloods. She's both respected and feared. There are rumors about her, rumors of white light and stains of cobalt and violet blood on her lipstick. But those are only rumors, right ? It's strange for her to be this young, but it's also good. The Disciple lives in the forest, with her lusus. She's the best huntress ! Tbh she's a bit of a cryptid. People talking about the beast in the woods. Most olive bloods knows it's her ; she's not the first olive to live in the woods after all. She tries to find the remaining signlessists (is that how it's written ?) to 1) check if what they teach is really what Signless taught, because she knows how cults can be and 2) if they still have the right idea, maybe join them. Maybe not. She's not exactly a signlessist, after all.

Let's say it's a no game AU because I don't want them to die. Also, to be clear, I ship Psii/Signless/Disciple as in Psii/Signless + Disciple/Signless. I don't really ship Psii/Disciple, I see them as... Very good chaotic friends with blackflirting, could be pale or black or red but have this sort of "ewww" reaction about dating each other so no.

When they're seven sweeps, their lusus brings home a wiggler that looks exactly like them (everyone reacts differently : Disciple squeals because Nepeta is so cute ! Psiioniic look at Sollux like... What ? Is ? This ? Another Captor disaster ? In this house ? We're doomed. Dolorosa is surprised but well. She already raised a child, and this time her lusus will help. Signless is shocked. Really. He stays silent for hours and maybe cries a little. After a while they all figure out that they're their descendants - that leads to a "wait but if this is my descendant... Am I biologically my own descendant ??" confusion but eh). They're all very fucking surprised but well.

Nepeta grows up with her big Sister Meulin and their shared lusus. She never really understood that having a big sister was weird until she met Equius. After all, three of her friends also had siblings ! She loves her big sister ; Meulin is clever and nice and pretty and strong and she wants to be like her when she grows up ! But sometimes her big sister looks at the red blood of the beasts they kill with sad eyes, sometimes she draws a symbol Nepeta doesn't knows, she never kills bees, she has a lot of respect for the jades, and she hates being alone. Her sister hates loneliness more than anything. Sometimes, even with sopor her sister wakes up crying about people she doesn't knows. But her sister is the best of all. And when she tells Nepeta stories of love and equality, Nepeta listens, and understands.

Sollux grows up with his annoying big brother Mituna. They have this sibling rivalry (some trolls think it's blackflirting - ewww). His brother is the best hacker of Alternia and Sollux thinks he's very cool (even if he will never admit it). Sometimes his brother shakes his hands and legs for hours mumbling strange things (still moving still moving still alive not trapped not a helsman she's not here I'm not here) and touches the back of his neck, as if he expected something to be here. Some days his brother flinches just seeing pink. He spends days searching people online - Sollux thinks it's kinda stupid ; nobody has blood that red. His brother wears a necklace with a symbol that isn't his. He has three sharpies with three colors - Sollux expected yellow and blue and red but those are bright red and olive and jade. Sometimes he draws on his hands with those sharpies - always the same symbols. Sometimes he wakes up screaming and he talks in his sleep - about ships, about pink, about blue arrows and bright red blood and someone that was everything. Sollux doesn't really understands. His brother is sad half of the time, but it's okay, because Sollux isn't better. But he wouldn't have it any other way (he sure would like to do without the voices and the bipolarity and his brother's depression but we can't have everything)

Kanaya thinks her big sister Porrim is very wise. Maybe a bit too much for her age. Sometimes her sister seems very old. Porrim is beautiful ; the prettiest troll Kanaya has ever seen really, but there's a old sadness deep in her bones that's always here. Her big sister always hated the ocean. Most trolls feared it (because of the seadwellers) but her big sister hated it. She had an odd look on her face every time she saw a spider and never wore anything with blue or violet or pink. Her sister had a sad smile when she helped her to do her red skirt. Her sister is wonderful. Almost more like a mother to Kanaya than their actual mother. When Kanaya was little, she told Porrim so. Porrim laughed very hard and maybe cried a little, and Kanaya doesn't remember her answer (I have only one child, little sister, and it isn't you).

Karkat thinks his big brother Kankri was someone else, before he was his big brother. He sees many things on him that shouldn't be here. He sees his big brother rubbing his wrists sometimes, and flinches every time Karkat grabs them (Karkat does it because of that ; he wants his brother to know that he doesn't have to be afraid). His brother can't cook meat, because the scent of burned meat makes him gag and cry and rub his wrists harder. His brother never does anything to the little beehive on their house - he says he likes bees. His brother loves meowbeasts, like Karkat's olive friend. His brother believes in rainbow drinkers - it's strange. Rainbow drinkers doesn't exist after all ! When he was very little, Karkat thought that Kankri was a coward - he never fought anyone and was always talking about peace and equality and love ! Lame. But then when he was four sweeps he told his brother that he wanted to be a threshecutioner and Kankri suddenly looked very afraid. He explained him things ; about their blood, about the empress, about the culling, about equality. After that, Karkat decided that Kankri was cool in a very strange manner, and that peace and equality andd love wasn't that bad after all. Karkat thinks that his brother is one of those heroes we never talk about, and nobody remembers them because they did heroics things without hurting anyone or killing monsters. He thinks that being like his big brother would be nice. He knows he has anger problems, he tries to deal with it (it helps that he isn't the only one, with Sollux being bipolar and Nepeta being autistic). His brother helps him with his quadrant confusion, when he says he has a pale crush on Kanaya but he also has a crush on Nepeta and Sollux but it's like on all quadrants ! (yup I ship them all) his brothers laughs and tells him about his own history with his lovers and how they were everything to him without really being in a quadrant. It... Slightly help (Karkat still thinks his crushes are unrequited. Fool).

Those four little trolls grows up with their lusus and someone else, and it changes little things. Nepeta begins to write books of romance and adventure and she tells stories to those who wants to hear them. Sollux knows he can count on his friends and his brother ; he doesn't have to bear everything alone. Kanaya knows that if she doesn't wants to go to the caverns, her big sister will help her. She doesn't have to be an adult before really being one. Karkat is a pacifist and thinks his shouting skills are actually very useful to scold people (he isn't wrong). He wants to deal with conflicts without violence or blood spilled (especially not his !!!). He's working on his anger. It's hard, but he isn't alone. He told his closest friends about his blood color : Sollux Nepeta and Kanaya (he wanted to tell Gamzee as well but Gamzee can't keep a secret).

Honestly the reunion between the ancestors would be very emotional of course. Like at this point Karkat and Kanaya would totally be moirails and Sollux, Karkat and Nepeta would be dating (after a long chat about the quadrant thing they decided to say fuck the quadrant system). So they would like meet in person and their big brothers/sisters would go with them but like... Just to make sure they're alright you know (alternia is dangerous after all :/). And HERE'S the emotional reunion I guess. I won't write it, I don't know how to. But you see.

My main idea was a Reincarnation AU, then it became "Karkat, Sollux, Nepeta and Kanaya growing up with their ancestors but not as their ancestors and noticing strange things about their siblings". Hope you like it, because I sure do !

[polyvirnl]

In Memoriam

Petals In Ambivalence prologue

Inspired by Link Start - Lies Stopped! by DawnWave on ao3

So I found a couple DawnWave Sword Art meets Miraculous books and decided I needed more, so heres a short one while I write the actual story.

This Au is the Black Lotus AU ((and while I realize that makes it sound like Marinette is in a Red Player guild, or taking Kiritio's place in SAO, its not, its literally just bc her handle is Lotus ingame, and i wanted a some cool alias's for it.))

Also,,, its gonna be maribat of some sort probably

The somber grey sky cried as Marinette stumbled to school, something that was fitting on that day. Adorned with black button up and slacks, grey shoes and ribbons, and a single freying bracelet on her wrist, Marinette concentrated on her breathing, feeling the cold sink into her bones while her umbrella lay unused in her hand.

She sighed as she tucked it away in her bag, the school growing closer with it’s perilous stone staircases and manipulative foxes lying in wait.

Since Lila had joined the school again a month ago, she had been steadily gaining support in the school, swaying everyone with a wag of her tongue, despite the outrageous lies she boasted. Normally, Marinette was nearly late and Lila was in the classroom before her arrival-that is to say, everyone was present before her arrival.

But not today.

Today she framed her bruised eyes like battle scars, the more readily pronounced bags a testament to how she slept that night; not a wink.

She knew she wouldn't have slept well, knew the likelihood of waking up with an aching throat and haggard voice- so she simply worked and worked, schoolwork, designs, scrolling through monotonous posts online, anything to keep her mind and memories quiet, if not silent.

Marinette fiddled with her bracelet as she walked up the stairs and through the hallway, not surprised when the door she opened displayed a distinct lack of person in the room, something unheard of since she had caught up with school and rejoined.

Her things were placed in an orderly manner on her desk in the back, her notes from last night queued on her tablet, waiting for power to be turned on to be used. Her arms were crossed on the wooden surface, head turned to stare out the window with glassy, unseeing orbs.

She didn't know how early she was, or how long she waited there, alone, before her classmates started piling in, first the early birds, like Sabrina and Max, then the giggling pairs like Rose and Juleka. No one mentioned Marinette’s lackluster presence, and she had a distant thought about if they thought she was someone else, or if they didn't care anymore. Not that she was like this today for attention. She was like this in attention, in a walking memorial of those who were lost for years, a survivor who had been lost but had finally come home three years ago.

Lila and a small portion of her posse came in. Marinette didn't stirr, not moving her eyes from the dusty window pane with the sky's tears trickling down and pelting it as if to break through and steal her away, to leave a changeling in her place with none the wiser but herself.

In the reflection of the glass, she noticed faintly as Kim walked up to his desk, that Max beside him wore the same ensemble as her, black as the night except for his dark grey glasses.

Lila’s shrill voice was breaking her shield of inattention, forcing her to listen even as she subtly pressed her hands over sensitive ears until they burned. That is, until she heard a familiar name, and a pool of dread dripped over her heart with an unflinching fist.

“Of course- that was before he and Alice got together, I was the one who got them together by the way!”

Maybe I misheard, maybe she can be a decent person for once-

Adrien stumbled in, funeral clothes like two others, grey faced and tired. He greeted them all with a small, scratchy voice.

“ The game was honestly a blast, I don't know why so many people died ! It was soo easy, but maybe I'm just that good?”

Adrien stopped where he was placing his things, face growing more pale by the second, turning slowly to stare at her.

Lila flashed a devious smirk at the ground at his attention.

“What the hell are you talking about.” He almost whispered, and the class froze. Marinette raised her head and made to stand.

“Sword Art Online of course! I was telling them all about my adventures with Kirito and Alice and the other front liners, I was stuck in that death game for years you know. I'm pretty sure its been coming back up in the media recently too~”

Marinette’s fists trembled, and Adrien eyes went glassy as he lurched out of the room.

“Lila Rossi.”

Everyone whipped around to see Marinette standing with feirce eyes.

“What.”

“Are you aware of the reason SAO has been resurfacing in the media.”

Lila sputtered.

“Of course I do, Its to celebrate the newer games being released!”

A pencil snapped, and the class glanced at an ashen faced Max, his eyes widening.

“No Lila. It's for the memorial of the dead players on the third year marker of the trap being beaten and the living players released.” She took a breath, and addressed the class as they whispered to themselves. “If you would have paid attention. Three of your classmates, are wearing funeral colors, Max, would you like to tell them why?”

“Of course, Marinette. I would assume, from how Adrien ran out, and Marinette looks, that they either played the game, knew someone who was trapped in the game, knew someone who died in the game, were a beta tester but didn't play the game, had family in the game, or had family or otherwise close contact with someone that helped in the original manufacturing before Akihiko Kayaba's dangerous tampering. Therefore, they are in mourning colors to respect the 3,853 fallen players, as well as those 6,147 living, and may be attending the memorial service that will be conducted later this afternoon.”

“Thank you Max.”

Lila sneered, out of view from those under her control before widening her eyes and crying,” I ju-just didnt want t-to think about al-all my friends that died…”

“How could you two bring that up?” Alya snapped, hugging the ‘forlorn’ girl.

“What exactly is going on in here?” Ms. Mendeliev stood in the doorway, surveying the chaos.

“Marinette and Max brought up Lila’s friends from that game, and she got sad.”

“From that game?”

“Yeah from when she was stuck in SAO!” Rose helpfully explained with a reassuring squeeze of Lila's shoulder.

Ms. Mendeleiev’s eyebrow rose comically.

“Miss Rossi, you are aware that it is on record who was and was not in Sword Art, specifically so that we teachers and staff know to be careful of PTSD among other things?”

“...No.”

“Miss Dupain-Chèng, with your consent?”

“Why do you need Marinette’s permission?” Juleka murmered, confused.

“Its alright, go right ahead madame.”

“Class, and specifically you, Miss Rossi, this school hosts exactly two international players from the virtual death game MMO, Sword Art Online. These players include one male, and one female, also known as One Marinette Dupain-Chèng-.”

A still pale Adrien returned with a furious Chloe.

“Ah, Mr. Agreste, perfect timing, are you willing for me to tell your classmates about what we discussed in the hall?”

“Sure…”

“Very well. As I was saying, the two players in this school, are one Miss Marinette Dupain-Chèng, and one Mr. Adrien Agreste.”

The two stared at each other, looking over each other. Marinette stood strong under the class's bewildered gaze, nodding in acknowledgment to Adrien.

Tikki patted her from inside her purse as Lila started up again, clearly scrambling for excuses.

“M-My mother! My mother didnt write my name on the record because she thought that I would get bullied for it!”

“While that may have been possible in other cases, the players of Sword Art are public record, seperate from their alias ingame so as to not promote grudges lasting to the outside.”

Mendeleiev sighed, almost bored, and brushed the topic away as if the students were not edging away from Lila and shooting looks of disapointment, shock, and disbelief at her.

“Anyway, carrying on, as Caline has called in sick, I will be filling in for her. Open your books to page 208, and start annotating. Adrien, Marinette, and Max, if you need to step outside for a moment to calm down, do so.

Max shook his head, replacing his broken pencil with another, as Marinette and Adrien stepped mechanically towards the door.

Outside, it was quiet for a moment.

“Do you plan to go to the memorial today?”

“Father is still unsure If he will allow it. It will probably be crowded, and it does seem like it's going to be a pretty public event…”

“I could send you the e-vite to the online one, or videochat you from the one at the tower?”

“I would like that, please send me the evite, in case he doesn't allow me to go.”

“...What was your handle?”

“Luciole, yours?”

“Rōtasu.”

Notes:

*Luciole means firefly, *Rōtasu means Lotus

[yeaimfishboi]

A bitch has been writing on this hellsite for two years

I’m gonna start by saying thank you.

Thank you to my followers...

Whether you’ve been here since the beginning, fairly recently or somewhere in between. You have all listened to me when I lost my friends in a car accident after being on here a month. You have listened to me rant, scream, and cry. You’ve listened to my life stories countless times and you still are always there to comfort me. Maybe you send me little notes about the stuff I write or just read it idly, but still thank you. I love all 2,617 of you so so fucking much.

To my mutuals (I’m tagging you guys) thank you.

You’ve all heard me cry and rant, you’ve listened to me just vent my insecurities. You’ve beta read my fics, edited my fics, made edits for them, left reviews, done collabs with me, responded to my ask games when nobody else did, defended me, and have been there for me through thick and thin. To my mutuals as a whole I thank you. I love you all and truly consider you all my friends and family. (Now to the tagging)

To start off... the person who made this blog possible @flynnitup thank you

Without you convincing me to get off my ass and get my work out there, there would be no @yeaimfishboi. Thank you for always encouraging me and being my #1 supporter.

To the girls that have been there since the beginning @kpopstarsreact @kimjongdaely @ggukverse and Katie, thank you.

You guys were my first mutuals and you helped me integrate into tumblr writing and without you guys I wouldn’t have made it more than 4 months. You helped me establish my presence as a writer and beta read my earliest fics back when I had no clue what to do. You guys have still managed to stay my friends for two years. Thank you so so so much.

To The Real Hoes™️ @sondontdothat @emmaishere92 @justlovingkpop

You guys have managed to become my family. We talk almost every day, and exchange memes on a regular basis. You call me every nickname imaginable but I love every minute of it. You guys have talked me through panic attacks, mental breakdowns, relapses, and flashbacks. You’ve been there for me through every step of getting healthy again. We’ve joked, laughed, cried, and sniffled together. We’ve had calls that lasted hours and calls that lasted seconds. You’ve met my family and they all love you. Thank you so much girls I don’t know what I would do without you.

To the kids I met through the Beacon/Stay GC @felixthekoala @tinyjisung and ZD thank you.

You guys helped with story ideas, the fine tuning, and even pretending to be idols for me on kkt. You have listened to me scream about Woojin and Felix or scold you bc Chait isn’t real at all. You’ve made me laugh more times than I can count and I love it. Thank you guys so much.

To @changbeanie thank you.

You’ve inspired me to be an even better write than I am and inspire to always keep improving. You’re an idol to me. I also want to thank you for defending me in my times of need and helping me when I need it. You are such an amazing friend, thank you.

To mijita @felixmahdork, thank you.

You never fail to make my day. You make me smile and you make me proud every single day. You have been one of the biggest blessings to come from starting this blog and I can’t thank you enough (legit crying whilst writing this). You are amazing in every sense of the word Lou. Thank you for everything.

To the moots I’ve met through nets or random experiences @stantalentstansk @yeoldontknow @oh-beyond @baekwell--tart thank you.

You guys have helped me through so much, especially when it comes to my writing. You’ve made me want to strive to do so much more. You’ve made me smile and blush. You’ve made me happy. Thank you.

To my seester @channiechanchan thank you.

I don’t even know how to communicate into words how grateful I am for you. You’ve made me giggle, and you’ve had me at a loss for words. We’ve cried together and talked about our issues. You defended me when I defended you. You protected me when I protected you. We’ve sang together and dyed our hair at the same time. You are truly someone I consider a sister and I cannot think of someone (besides my blood sisters) better to call that. I have no clue what I would do without you Nessa, thank you.

To ReeRee and Dawn ( @butterfly948 @cold-eyes-made-ice ) thank you.

You two are two absolutely stellar human beings. You remind me that there is faith in humanity. You guys are so down to earth and kind. You’ve heard me rant for hours and stayed there for me even when I’m being an over dramatic bitch. I love our crazy antics and admiration for each other. Thank you, girlies.

To my wifey @cherryblossomchangbin thank you.

We’ve had our ups and downs (more ups than downs) and I couldn’t imagine a better person to have gone through it with. You’ve made me a tougher, stronger, and better person. You’ve helped me grow so much as a person. You’ve done things that made me question your sanity and vice versa. You’re never afraid to call me a hoe or a bitch and I love it. You make me laugh and smile almost every day. I thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me.

To the L.E.E in L.E.E.K ( @renjunsunflower @blk-mingming @gunpowder-writes) thank you.

Joining the blog with you girls was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made on this blog. You’ve read my work before it came out and you’ve listened to me be constantly unable to make any decisions on it. You guys have probably heard more of my sob stories than anyone and not once have I ever felt judged for it. You’ve heard me cry out in physical pain but not once did you make me feel diminished. I’m so thankful for you and I couldn’t imagine my life without you. So thank you.

And to the two people that have helped me more than anything, my two best friends @roadworkaheaduhyea and @justlovingkpop

To Hannah, I know you’re still reeling over your graduation (and I’m so freaking proud and I know I said I wasn’t going to get sappy on you but- well- I lied). I want to thank you for all the countless hours you’ve stayed up with me while I wrote. For the classes you’ve skipped to help me write reactions. To the ships you wrote with me whilst on the phone. I want to say thank you for the endless support and love you’ve given me. Thank you for all the inside jokes and amazing memories we’ve built together. Thank you for listening to me talk for fucking hours on end, and giving me cuddles when I desperately needed it. Thank you for being my rock.

To Amy, you are probably the person I am most open to. You know of all of my insecurities, all of my stories, all of my habits, and all of my happy moments. You always make sure to check on me bc you know I’m notorious for not taking care of myself. You always send me cute Spanish memes, and have inspired me to work so much harder on my Spanish. You’ve helped me with so many ideas and manage to get me out of creative lulls. You make me smile every time you laugh. You’ve listened to me while I was crying or whilst having a panic attack. You’re one of the first people I go to when I need to say something whether it be good or bad. I can’t thank you enough Amoo. I love you so so so fucking much.

[jhope-seok]

Yin;Yang

Disclaimer: All of the things mentioned in this story are all works of fiction and have been made up by me, the author.  I did not intend to make anything based on real life, and any coincidences to real life are purely coincidences.

Warnings: mentions of cigarettes

Genre: Angst. Fluff. Slight Smut.

Members: Suga x Reader

Length: 7,447 words

Sequel to The One That Got Away

(A/N: holy cow wow. I got the itch to write this after hearing “All I Ask” by Adele and now this is a reality. I know I’ve been shite at posting my writing, but it’s bc i’m working on something huge right now and it’s taking all of my attention, but I took a break on my big project to write this so i can finally have my catharsis. Highly recommend reading the first part before reading this (it will make a whole lot of sense. Also a HUGEEEE thank you to @hungline for being the best beta ever. <3)

(A/N#2: HIGHLY RECOMMEND READING ON DESKTOP. Mobile screws up the formatting....reads way better on desktop.)

Masterlist

[Y/N 9:47pm] “I still love you.”

The cigarette in his fingers hovered midway on its journey to his mouth, the smoke trailing from the end the only thing letting him know time hadn't stopped. His eyes flickered back and forth from the words on the screen to the name at the top of the conversation. Suga had to sit up in his bed, as if it would help him focus better on his phone in front of him, and shook away his thoughts in an attempt to decipher if this was real or a dream.

“No,” he thought. “This is very real.” The sounds echoed up from the street below a good indication that he was, in fact, not dreaming.

He’s surprised to have heard from you at all, let alone the same night, especially after the way your time together had gone. If he had expected to hear from you, he would’ve thought to hear nasty words from you, something far different than the words he was staring at now. He had lied to you.

“I met someone.”

He was sure at the time that your words hadn't been a lie, that fate had somehow once again provided you both with a chance meeting with no options to move forward. But, looking back now, he guessed you had lied to him too.

“Me too.”

This text message almost proved to him that you had lied to him. He wasn’t sure if you had seen through his lie and were now trying to call him out on it, or if you had somehow slipped: sent a message to him that you had meant for someone else. Or, in a highly unlikely third possibility, if you had meant it for him--Suga wasn’t sure you had meant to actually send it. Either way, he knows that if he missed this opportunity to be with you, he would regret it forever.

There have been too many moments in his life where you were close in his grasp, so close he could’ve closed his fingers and you would’ve been together. Yet, every time you had always managed to slip away like grains of sand, leaving only an emptiness in his heart. He also knows that there have been times where he was to blame, his own actions having pushed you away, but he wanted to ensure that he took this opportunity to prove to you how much you mean to him.

[Suga 9:56pm] “Where are you?”

He knew this was not the answer you would have wanted back to your confession, but he couldn’t tell you how he felt through text. He knew he had to do it in person. He needed to see you, feel you in his arms when he said it back.

When his phone buzzed again in his hand, all that he had from you was an address. It wasn’t the same place where you had met earlier, and when he plugged it into his maps application on his phone, it seemed to be an apartment building. He immediately grabbed his coat and headed out the door of his hotel room.

The night air nipped at his skin as he tried to hold his hood as close to his face as possible, trying to shield his neck from the cold. He’s surprised at how much it had cooled down, almost positive that the temperature earlier had been hot enough to make his shirt stick to his back. Then again, that could've been from his anticipation of seeing you pushing his heart to pump the blood in his veins faster. But, he’s glad for the brisk walk, the air cooling down his body temperature as his heart raced. With every step he took he could feel his pulse raise slightly. He’s not sure what he wants to say to you when he sees you for the second time that night, but he knows he needs to make it count, otherwise this could very well be the end of a possible relationship--and friendship--with you. The end of everything between you two.

The last few weeks of his life had felt like a blur. What had felt like a normal Monday had wound up being one of the worst days of his life. He remembered the tone of his boss’s voice as he sat him down in his office and told him that, “Things just aren’t working out anymore.” Suga had, in the company’s eyes, been performing below standards.

“We just aren’t getting results from you like we used to. And you aren’t showing signs of improvement. You’re not listening to criticism, and you’re behind on all of the projects you’ve been given. We’ve given you a lot of opportunities to show us better, but unfortunately, things just are not working out anymore. We’re going to have to let you go.”

Suga remembered the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, the way his heart stopped for a moment. His brain couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. However, as he had packed his things, left the building and gone home to an empty apartment, he remembered feeling nothing. No anger towards his boss for firing him, no sadness at having lost his job. Nothing. He just kind of shrugged it off. He was emotionless at the thought of no longer having a job and having to find work for himself now for the future. None of that mattered.

And after a week of Suga laying around in his bed, doing the bare minimum to survive and ignoring almost every call from his girlfriend, she had finally gotten so fed up with him that she’d shown up at his apartment, just to break up with him.

“I just don’t get what’s happening, babe. I know you’re upset about having lost your job, but you won’t talk to me. You won’t answer my calls, you won’t respond to my texts. If you won’t open up to me then I can’t stay with you. This relationship isn’t a one way street, Yoongi. You act like you don’t love me anymore, and I can’t handle that. I love you, Yoongi, but you have to get your life together before we can work things out.”

He remembered how even after all of that, he’d just felt nothing. None of her words had pulled at his emotions, every word bouncing off of his skin, falling to the floor. It was all just air to him, wasted breath. Because she was right; he didn’t love her. She had just been a filler in his life. Something to make his parents believe he was living a “normal” life. He supposed at the beginning he had felt something for her, a flicker of something stronger than apathy. That's why he'd chosen to date her, but every night he laid in bed with her, every time she pulled him close, every time she kissed him, he was left wanting. She had left him wanting more, left his heart aching for something he knew he could never have. Nothing for him had been the same since college, and he knew that nothing ever would be.

After he had run out of food in his kitchen, after he’d gone through ordering delivery from every place within delivering range, he finally had decided to go to the grocery store and get himself food. He felt that it had been long enough and that he needed to go back to his facade of living like every other person. But, as he’d driven home from the store, some song on the radio had caught his ear. It was your favorite song, and hearing it flooded all of the memories of you he’d been holding at bay for so long. He remembered the first time he heard you sing along to the song, your eyes closed, voice slightly off key, dancing around like an idiot in the middle of your living room. He remembered listening to it in his college dorm room, during the moments he missed you most. Something inside of him snapped, and as he sat in his car outside of his apartment building, he cried. He really cried for the first time in years.

He let himself be sad over the times he’d lost you, he let himself cry at the thought that he’d let all communication with you drop because he was selfish. He cried because he'd let the one person he cared for most, slip away from him because being around you hurt. It had been the first time since freshman year of college that he truly felt pain. The wall he'd built to keep the hurt at bay finally fell away and released all of the things he'd held back for all those years. And as he'd wiped away his tears, and stared at the dashboard of his car, he thought to himself that he had to do something. He didn't know what he was going to do, or how he was going to fix things, but he needed to try.

So he ran up to his apartment, gathered a small bag of belongings, and drove home. He drove back to the city he'd been avoiding for three years. Along the way he called your parents. He still remembered your home phone number, the digits burned into his memory after having called so many times during high school before his parents had allowed him his first cell phone. When your mother answered she was surprised to hear his voice on the other line.

"Yoongi? Wow! It's great to hear from you for so long. I just saw your parents the other day at the grocery store. How are you?"

He initiated small talk for a while, shocked at how nice your mother was being to him considering how rude he’d been to you for the last three years. But eventually, he got to his point.

"Mrs. Y/L/N, I was calling because I recently got a new phone and couldn't switch over my contacts. I was wondering if you had a current cell phone number for Y/N? I'm coming home for the weekend and wanted to catch up with her."

He hadn’t exactly told the truth to your mom, but she bought it, quickly reciting off your cell number to him. He was thankful to find out that the number hadn’t actually changed. He contemplated the rest of the drive what he was going to send to you, what he was going to do now that he actually had a way to contact you. He felt bad about lying to your mom, so he felt like he should at least try to contact you, but he had no idea what he was going to say if he did. Suga had thought out many different versions of the same text, each sounding far too cheesy in his own mind. There was no way you would ever say yes to seeing him after all of the pain you’d gone through together, especially since after the last time you’d seen him, he had been the one to stop responding to your texts.

When he’d parked outside of the first hotel he could find in your city, he pulled out his phone and opened a new text message conversation. He punched in your number methodically, as if it hadn’t been three years since he’d last used the number. The cursor blinked on the screen at him, taunted him. It was telling him that if he wasted all of this gas to drive all of the way here, called your mother and lied to her about seeing you, and then word somehow got back to you that she spoke to him...he knew things would forever be ruined. He had to do something.

The sun was low in the sky, his courage fading with every minute, he knew it was now or never. It was worth a shot to him, so he typed quickly, and before he could think himself out of it, he hit the blue arrow, and the message was sent.

“Y/N–I’m in the area. Are you free to meet up? –Suga”

Why he had chosen to sign the his text with your chosen nickname for him from high school, he didn’t know. He waited, growing ever the more nervous as time went on. He panicked that he had gotten your number wrong, or that your mom had purposefully given him a false number. He chewed on his lower lip as he stared at his phone. He knew that the longer he watched his screen, the slower time would move.

So, he got out of his car, and walked into the hotel, and prayed that they had a room he could sleep in tonight. He hadn’t planned on staying long, but he figured that if he was here now he wasn’t going to push himself to drive all the way back to his apartment through the night. As he stepped into the lobby of the enormous hotel his phone buzzed in his hand.

“Sure, meet me at the park by the river in an hour.”

He almost dropped his phone as he read the words on his screen. You said yes. His heart jumped into his throat,anxious at the thought of seeing you again. He tried to calm himself, get his mind off of the situation that loomed in the near future, by speaking with the person at the front desk. Luckily for him they had one room left. He spent an approximate ten minutes getting himself situated in his room until he decided he could take it no longer, and grabbed the pack of cigarettes in his bag and headed out to the park you’d detailed.

It had been a while for him, walking among the streets of the city he grew up in. He was surprised at how natural it was to him, how easily he fell back into the same routine. There was only one park he thought you would be speaking of, and when you arrived, three cigarettes later, he was astonished at how it felt as if everything was exactly the same as he’d left it with you.

Except it wasn’t. You smoked, he smoked. You had both matured into beings so separate from each other, the only thing connecting you were the memories you shared between you. And he had revealed to you the truth behind those shared memories, he admitted how he’d been feeling for all of those years.

“I was going to ask you be my girlfriend.”

You’d responded in a way that didn’t catch him off guard as much as he thought you were expecting to catch him.

“That was the first time I remember wanting to tell you I loved you. The first time I wanted you to kiss me.”

But between you both, there had always been a catch.

“But you kissed her instead.”

He had always felt a need to lie, to protect himself from harm, from potential heartbreak. So when you’d called him by the nickname you’d come up with during freshman year of high school (“You’re sweet, Yoongi. You know that? I’m gonna call you Suga.”), he closed himself off immediately. He always had his guard up.

“I met someone.”

Until now.

When he arrived at the address you sent, he stood outside for several minutes, staring up at the windows above his head, trying to imagine what kind of scenario he was entering into. He pictured everything from you slapping him in the face saying that even though you still loved him, he had hurt you way too many times and he should have never spoken to you in the first place, to you crying and claiming he was the love of your life but that you were with someone else and you wouldn’t leave your boyfriend to chance a relationship with him. Although, he still had a small itch at the back of his head that you hadn’t been telling the truth when you’d told him you were seeing someone. Either way, he took one last breath of the cold air and headed inside.

He was surprised to find the front desk of your building empty at such a late hour, but he didn’t let that deter him from the task at hand. He easily found the elevator, and with every second it took for it to arrive, and then to deliver him to your floor, his heart began to race faster than he thought possible. He hadn’t mentally prepared himself to see you again so soon and now that he was mere steps away from you again, he wasn’t sure he could actually face you. But before he could blink, he was in front of the door marked with the same numbers as you’d sent in your address. And with three simple knocks there you were.

His breath hitched in his throat when he saw you in his sweatshirt. He was thrown back into the past to the day he gave it to you. It was the first and only time he had ever kissed you, and he had given you his favorite sweatshirt to remember him by. He never forgot how your lips felt against his, and he almost broke down and cried when he saw you wearing that memory so plainly in front of him. All of the words he’d intended to say escaped him as he stared at you. His past was colliding with his present and future and his sense of time was turned upside down, a loop that was connecting that day to this moment.

“Y/N--,” he started, his words falling into nothingness in the void between you. He had thought out his speech so carefully. He was going to tell you he’d lied, he was going to tell you how much you meant to him. But when he tried, there was nothing. When he couldn’t fill the space, you did.

“Suga--” was all you had to say. The precious nickname you’d shared for all those years was the only word it took to break through his wall, to force his guard down. Hearing it now was all it took for him to close the gap between you, and suddenly, just like that day all those years ago, he was kissing you. It was just as he remembered, just as he had re-lived over and over again in his dreams. Your hands easily found a grip at the nape of his neck, and his fingers curled around your waist, pulling you as close as physically possible. The space that had separated you both for so long closed so suddenly, you were like the most powerful magnets it the world. He never knew that the pain he had endured for so many years could be washed away as easily as it was washing away now. Your lips against his was the only medicine he needed to mend the hurt of past years, and he never wanted it to end.

In the past, he had imagined that if he were to ever have a chance to kiss you again, it would be awkward and uncomfortable, the memories of the past making it difficult for you both to fall into each other. Yet, it was anything but. Your lips tasted like all of the memories he never wanted to forget plus all of the memories he'd been trying to run away from all of these years. Your tongues clashed together in a choreography so synced it was as if you had done this a thousand times. He could feel your heartbeat against his chest and it was the perfect match to the beat inside of him.

As you pulled him into your apartment, he wondered when he'd memorized this routine you were both so quickly falling into. He felt as if time had been moving so fast before, and now with every second that passed, all of his senses were alight, aware of the mere milliseconds that passed as your limbs tangled together. It was so natural to him, the push and pull between you and him, as your fingers left his skin blazing as they danced across his back. When he found your skin under his sweatshirt, the heat from within you lit a fire inside of him that had long been extinguished.

It was a blur of passion that overtook every fiber of his being. He knew that if someone were ever to ask him to recall this night in the future, time would not be able to cloud the memory of the way your lips felt against his neck, or the way you clenched around him as your climax overtook you. Every movement you made against him molded him, shaped him, left its mark on his body, and he knew that he would never be the same.

In one of the few moments where your lips broke away from his, as his eyes fixed upon yours, he wondered how he ever convinced himself that any other woman had been the one for him. Your body melded with his like you were the yin to his yang, the perfect match for every movement his made. And when the night was over, as he kissed your skin, his head spun, love drunk on the taste of your sweat mixed with his.

As the moon shone brightly on your skin as you lay in his arms, the thought crossed his mind that this was where he was meant to be. When sleep fell over him, your scent surrounding him, he felt complete; fulfilled.

The sun woke him up as it usually did. He felt called by its rising, the warmth of its rays the only thing that had kept him sane all of these years. But, as he rubbed his eyes clear of his sleep, he realized something was off. You had left him, the sheets where you had lain were cold against his arms, empty like the bed. He heard you before he saw you, the clinking of something--likely a toothbrush--against the sink his only indication you were in the adjoining bathroom.

He shifted in bed, rested against your headboard, the wood cold against his bare back, unsure of what to make of this situation. Although he could not see your face, it was as if the air in the room had become denser than the night before. He could feel the tension between you and him, a rope strung taut as a heavy weight pulled upon it. He wondered to himself what had changed during the night, wondered how only a few hours could have shifted your feelings of him. He wasn’t yet ready to face these questions in his head, so he reached over into his pants that lay on the floor, and dug around for the pack of cigarettes he always kept in his back pocket.

He considered for a moment that it would be rude to light a cigarette in your apartment, in your bedroom during his first visit, but as he contemplated this his eye caught a trail of smoke leaving a still burning cigarette in an ashtray on your bedside table. The first hit off of a cigarette in the morning did more for him than a cup of coffee ever would, and as he exhaled, smoke dancing in the sunlight.

You yanked open the door of the bathroom, hair still wet, pants unbuttoned.

Suga stiffened, but before he could get out a word, you were rushing. “I’m going to be late for work, I have to go. You can let yourself out after me. Feel free to use the shower. Just lock the door behind you.”

Your last word still hung in the air as you ran out of the bedroom, into the living room. He heard you rustling around, moving through your apartment at such a fast pace that he thought if he was standing in the doorway watching you move, you would be a blur before his eyes. He imagined you were trying to get away from the situation, but he wasn’t quite sure why. He took a deep, deliberate breath, counting to himself the seconds it would take before he heard the front door click.

Twelve seconds.

He took another drag of his cigarette, wondering what he was supposed to do with himself, left alone in your apartment. He needed to shower, he still smelled like the events of last night. Yet, while it had lulled him to sleep the previous night--the thought lingering in his dreams that it had become his new favorite cologne--now the scent was making him lightheaded. But, he felt uneasy using your shower when you weren’t home, it was such a personal place that he felt he would be intruding. If he was being honest with himself, he felt like he was intruding even just sitting in your bed, so he got up, stretched and put his cigarette out in the ashtray, deciding it would be best if he just leave.

As he dressed, he couldn’t help but stare at his surroundings, wondering what it was like when he wasn't there to repel you out the front door; he wondered what your day to day life was like. He stood in the doorway to your bedroom, looking out at the living room. He saw you asleep on the couch after a long night of work, some show playing quietly on the television, your lullaby as you slept. He took a few steps and he could see your kitchen to his left. He pictured all of the meals you cooked, hoping that you had been eating well, and wondered if you had ever shared a meal with someone at your kitchen table. As he turned back around eyes cast back into the bedroom, he was presented with the thought that he had not been the first person to share your bed with you. He questioned how many had come before him, how many had been regular guests in your apartment, and how many had been like him, a one night stand to be left alone as you hurried out the door, away from the scene of the crime.

Everywhere he looked he could see the ghost of you, and he had the overwhelming sense that he was tired of thinking about your ghost. He was tired of only being left with the memory of you. He was exhausted from never being able to feel like he had won, that things in his life had settled and that he was where he meant to be. He wanted you, and he would not let you get away this time.

As he stood at your front door, hand gripping the handle tight, he promised himself that he would not let you get away, he would get you once and for all. He was meant to be with you, and he would be with you. He would do whatever it took to make that happen.

As you sit at your desk at work, you can't help but be consumed with regret at your actions from the morning. Your boss tells you that you seem out of it, unfocused. She brings you into her office, and asks if something happened. You lie and say no, knowing that if you were to tell her she would reprimand you for being so absent-minded over a boy. She tells you that if you need to go take a smoke break you're more than welcome, but you shake your hand at her, saying you were just tired from a long night. She smiles politely and tells you that she understands, but reminds you that you have an important task due by the end of the workday. You nod and go back to your desk.

So you do your best to focus, trying to get through the day, one word, one page, one assignment at a time. You’re sifting through the paper on your desk when your phone chimes. Your heart races as you reach for it, hoping to see his name on your screen. When you realize it was just a message from your mom reminding you that your father's birthday was coming up, your heart sinks, and the shame from the way you acted to Suga comes back like a brick wall.

You want to apologize to him, but you're unsure of how to do so. You acted like you hated him this morning, like he had given you some incurable disease. But in reality, you were mad with yourself. You had let yourself slip, let your strong facade give way for a moment, and although you showed your true self to Suga last night, you knew you could never be with him and you regretted the fact that you let yourself set a standard that you know no person could ever reach. Suga was the only person you wanted to be with, but he'd cheated on his girlfriend with you.

You were back and forth all day as to what you wanted to do, whether you should text him and tell him how much you really still loved him, or if you should pick yourself up and pretend like this never happened. After all, if there was another woman in his life, you couldn't ask him to leave her for you. He had never asked you to leave your boyfriends in the past, and you had never asked him to leave any of his girlfriends. You wanted so badly to be selfish, but your heart was telling you this had to be the end of it with Suga. You had to let him go. Once and for all.

When the clock struck 6:00pm, you gathered your belongings and went home, resolved to let last night lay in the past, no matter how much it broke your heart to do so.

The rest of the day, Suga spent pacing his hotel room. He was at war with himself. He was so desperate to make you his, he was telling himself he would do whatever it took. But there had been many times where he had second guessed himself. He'd been so determined when he left your apartment, that on his walk home he threw his pack of cigarettes in the first trash can he saw. He somehow stupidly thought it would be a way to show he was committed to you. He regretted that an hour later when his nerves caught up with him.

His brain had presented him with the very real possibility that his previous assumption that you had lied about meeting someone was, in fact, not a lie. That the reason you'd run out on him this morning was because you realized how much you had truly fucked up by cheating on this new person with him. He was convinced that any attempt he would make to win you over would be thwarted by the simple words, "I have a boyfriend." He was so sure, but there was one minuscule part of him that still believed it was false. And that part was fueling his fire. The tiny flame that refused to be doused.

Slowly, for the rest of the day, as the sun got hotter, so did the flame inside of him. He tried to switch his inner mantra from "She's going to reject me" to "I have a chance." His whole life, there had been so many missed chances with you. If he let this time be another one, another moment that you were able to slip through his grasp, he wondered what the purpose of life would be for him after this day. So he gathered himself, and decided he needed to see you. He needed to take the leap and just do it for once.

He quickly searched on his phone for the nearest flower shop to him. He spent a long time talking with the man behind the counter, deciding on the perfect kind of flowers to portray his feelings. He knew roses were the wrong kinds of flowers to express what he was feeling, and in the end they had decided on a mix of dahlias, peonies, with lavender mixed throughout. The man at the flower shop, Jungkook, had informed him that if he was trying to show commitment and devotion to a girl he was pining after that dahlias and peonies were the flowers to choose.

As Suga left the shop, he was taken with how much his heart had steadied, with every step he took closer to your apartment he felt his heartbeat calm, his mood lift, and his smile grow wider. All of his anxieties from earlier had disappeared. He could feel it. This time it would be real.

But, he realized he should probably not show up unannounced at your apartment. He wasn't even sure that you were home yet after work. In fact, he wasn’t even sure what time it was. The sun in the sky indicated that it was sometime mid evening, the sky having turned a warm pink as he made his way through the city. He dug his phone out of his back pocket, careful not to ruffle the bouquet and pulled up your conversation from the previous night. He reread the messages, wondering to himself what it would be like to hear you say what you'd wrote to him.

"I still love you."

He could almost hear it if he closed his eyes, but he stopped himself from lingering in his thoughts too long. He needed to focus on the present, on the now. He clicked on your contact information and pressed the phone icon as it prompted him: "Voice call" or "Facetime audio." Suga's finger hovered over his screen. He hesitated, unsure of how you would react to a phone call from him so soon. He ran through all of the possible scenarios in his mind again, but then landed on the decision that he didn't care, he needed to do this. At the very least he needed to do it to have a moment to look back on and say “At least I tried.” So, he pressed down, the dialing sounds filling his ears.

"Hello?" Your voice coming through his speaker sounded surprised. There was also a hint of anger that he couldn't place. 'Is she angry I called?' he wondered to himself.

“Suga?” you prompted him, and he realized that he hadn’t actually said anything.

“Y/N, are you busy?” He cut to the chase, not bothering with awkward pleasantries. He knew that if he let himself beat around the bush he would wind up hanging up and regretting his choice.

“No. I just got back from work.” You paused, and he was taken aback by how, real this conversation sounded. To an outsider on either side of the conversation they might think that this was just a normal chat between a boyfriend and girlfriend. Or at least a regular conversation between friends. Something he hadn’t called you for a long time.

“Why? What’s up?” You asked.

“Oh.” After everything he’d gone through in his head, he’d missed the one scenario where you asked why he was calling. “No reason,” he lied. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

He shook his head at his own stupid lie. He was ashamed that he’d lost confidence so quickly. After so many hours of working himself up, he’d fallen so fast in the face of a question he hadn’t been prepared to answer.

He could hear your breath hitch through the phone. “O-oh.” After a few awkward beats you continued. “Okay. When do you go back?”

“Tomorrow.”

You bit down on your lip hard, chewing to keep yourself from asking the only question you wanted to ask. You yearned to see him again. You wished you could hold him in your arms one last time, feel his body against yours, taste him against your lips. But you refrained.

“Well, travel safe, I guess,” you murmured.

“Thanks, Y/N.” His voice sounded soft. You wondered where he was, what he was doing that prompted him to call you. He had never been the type to call without a reason. Not recently, at least. As you threw your phone down behind you on your bed, your eyes caught sight of the arm of his sweatshirt peeking out from the under the bed. As you reached for it, you figured it must have gotten kicked under your bed in the haste that was made to remove each other of all clothing last night.

You pulled it on over your body, relishing in how soft it felt against your skin, imagining that the fabric was his hands, brushing over your arms as he pulled you close. You wondered if this would be your new normal, if you would forever be left with this yearning inside to relive the events of the previous evening. You knew that no one would ever live up to anything he had given you, would never make you feel anything compared to the way he made you feel. And while these thoughts were running through your mind, you still wished somehow you could make it work: fix the past, and forge a new path, together.

You sighed to yourself. What you both had done last night had been a mistake, you reasoned. He said he had met someone. He had cheated, and you hadn’t stopped him, in fact, you were the one who started it after all. You should have respected his boundaries, but now he would have to go back to his girlfriend and tell her that he cheated with some nobody from his past.

You shuffled through your bedroom to your couch, tears slowly streaming down your face as your mind ran through the negatives. There was no way for you and him to work. The past was a prime example of that. Every time your paths crossed, it was as if you were looking at him from below and he at you from above. At the same place but never truly together.

You turned on the television to try and drown out your thoughts as you wrapped yourself in your favorite blanket. “At least I have this to remember him by,” you thought, as you pulled the hood up over your head. You were keen to lay on your couch for the rest of the night, letting the sounds from whatever show was on to muffle your thoughts and lull you to sleep. But after only a few minutes there was a sudden knock on your door. You turned the sound down on the television, hoping that whoever it was would assume you weren’t home and would go away.

But they didn’t seem to be fooled by your act. They knocked again, three raps on the door. You lifted yourself into a seated position, still hoping that they would go away if you just never answered.

“Please, answer the door. Answer it, Y/N. Where is she?” Came muffled behind the door, his voice sounded impatient and anxious. You stood in your spot at the sound of his voice, the blanket falling to your feet. You rushed to the door, heart pounding in your chest as you fumbled with the locks. You had to see him, had to prove that this wasn’t a dream. As cliche as it sounded in your head, you had to know that he had come back for you.

Your heart felt like it would burst up through your throat at the sight of him in your doorway. You were speechless as you stared into his eyes. The tears that had subsided from earlier returned as you fell into his arms. You heard something that sounded like plastic crumple as it thudded by your feet. Your brain briefly wondered what had made such a sound, but all that mattered to you was his warmth that surrounded you in an embrace that cured all of your broken hearts from all of the years past.

“How are you here?” Was all you managed to get out, the only words that made sense to your brain.

“Y/N, I’m here for you. I’m not leaving without you this time,” his breath fanned over your hair, a calm reassurance. “I am leaving tomorrow, but I can’t go back without knowing you’re mine.”

You lifted your face from his chest, a tingling spreading throughout you. “This is real,” you repeat in your mind, a mantra you have to keep to stop yourself from collapsing at his feet.

“Suga, I have always been yours.” A smile spread across your face, a contrast to the tears that were still raining down your cheeks.

“I know,” he whispered, as he wiped away the tears on your face. “And I’m yours too. I love you, Y/N. I have loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you in photography class freshman year. I have loved you since the first time I kissed you. And I will love you until the moon falls out of the sky.”

You chuckled, the joy now evident on your face. As you kissed him, your pain melted away, your heart beat with a new life. Your arms laced behind his neck, his hands wrapped tight around your waist, you knew: you had found the place that you wanted to be forever.

He did leave the next day, moved back for a month, but he called you every day and visited on the weekends. He owned up to the fact that he lied about having a girlfriend, and you told him the truth as well. He’d brought you flowers, which wound up slightly crumpled, but you reassured him that all that mattered was the thought. He didn’t tell you about how much thought was put into them, but he smiled as you rummaged around for anything large enough to hold the bouquet. (Which wound up being an old wine bottle you rinsed out in a hurry so they had somewhere to go).

You apologized for running out on him the morning after your first night together, and he laughed as you explained your embarrassment. He told you he’d gotten fired from his job, but that he would look for a new one, one that was much closer to you.

He also said that the only reason he had to move back was so he could finish out his lease, and that he’d already spoken to his parents about moving in with them until he could find another job and a new apartment. You told him it was unnecessary, that although you were going to take your new relationship slow, you would be more than happy to have him live in the spare bedroom in your apartment. You had been best friends for years, there was no way you would let him stay with his parents, especially when you had an empty room that you’d never gotten around to renting out. He said he would consider it once his lease was over.

After all, it felt like no time had passed; as if time had just stopped, waiting for the two of you to reunite again and pick up where you’d left off. Which is exactly what you told him, but that this time you were moving forward with the title of boyfriend and girlfriend.

“And, you know,” you paused, a laugh escaping your lips. “A lot more sex.”

He had laughed at that. A sound that lit a flame inside of you that had long been smothered. You were so elated to finally have your best friend back, and it felt like a burden had been lifted from your chest, one that you’d been holding on to for far too long.

You could see into your future together, and the questions he had asked you now became clear, the answers laid out in the years to come so apparent.

“What would have happened had we been together? Would we still be together? Would we be married? Would we have kids?”

As he held you in his arms at night, his heartbeat the lullaby that sung you to sleep, you knew that the answers to everything would be yes. All of those missed opportunities meant to serve as a purpose. You had both matured, ready for forever. Forever with each other. Suga was your perfect match, as you were his. You belonged together, just like the sun needed the moon. With him, you were home.

feedback is always welcome! please feel free to leave some here!

[simkjrs]

chapter 6 asks that are people in distress about shinsou

SPOILERS FOR THE FIC, so it’s all under the readmore 

** before i start, i just want to say, the sheer number of people who have guessed that it’s himiko impersonating shinsou is frankly alarming and equally hilarious. thanks yall 

Anonymous said: OH MY GOD SHINSOU MY SON, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HIM??? HE DOESNT DESERVE THIS????? (for real, tho, that chapter was?? So good??? I'm so happy to have read this)

you’re absolutely right he doesn’t deserve this and im doing it to him anyways, which objectively proves that as an author i am not and never have been trustworthy. im sorry if i ever tricked you into thinking otherwise. im crying as well

Anonymous said: holy crap that chapter. where do i even start. i knew the kidnapping was coming up but that scene still managed to punch me in the gut. shinsou doesn't deserve this he just wanted to be a hero you guys. also the scene where izuku brought mitoki flowers was really great and i'm so happy that conversation happened. and the paintball fight? best thing i've ever laid my eyes upon. sorry this wasn't very coherent, i'm gonna go fling myself into the sun. thank you for this amazing chapter.

thank YOU for the feedback, i’m really glad you enjoyed the mitoki conversation & the paintball fight because those two scenes were the ones i was most nervous about. as for shinsou, you are very right. he doesn’t deserve this and im sorry 

Anonymous said: WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! that was so intense!!!!!!!!!!!! that chapter was amazing you lied sorry ://// (izuku has a crush on shinsou and i couldnt be happier. sweethearts, the both of them.) SO MUCH HAPPENED AT ONCE IM FU KCIFNSICIAJX!!!! WHAT HAPPENED WITH SHINSOU??? MY BOY WHO THREATENED HIM. WHO HURT HIM??!?!?!!?!??!!??!?! i got so emotional all throughout this chapter i almost cried like 26 times that was wild af!!! NOW HOW DO I RECOVER FROM THIS!!!! (im so worried about shinsou. about everyone.)

hfjldksf thanks!! glad you enjoyed it!! im sorry for making you emotional. its the unintended side effects of tryin to convey izuku’s state of mind 

i know this won’t ease your suffering much but for a while i intended for chapter 7 to be from shinsou’s point of view, and it was quite literally just titled “what happened to shinsou.” this may still happen. im not sure yet. stay tuned next for,

Anonymous said: *twitch twitch twitchy twich* omg suddenly i understand those comments from your betas. like. i'm legit speechless???? why. why would you do this, you evil writer from awesome land. like i just. im in like. the all caps state of shock. that FREAKING LAST LINE AKDJKLADSLKAJDSKLJLKJ. like. *squeezes air* i dont even know where to begin???? I MEAN CLEARLY I STARTED AT THE END BUT LIKE. so much. to talk about. like. the smile bits of gaming and cats and pics then THAT KAST KUUSJDFHSKJDHFSKJDHSJDF

i bait in readers with cute fun shenanigans and then i go in for the kill 

(thank you for writing in, i’m glad you enjoyed the chapter <3 )

Anonymous said: no, but like, ur saying that chapter 6 is the worst one YET (which is a HORRIBLE LIE. this chapter was great. even if it let us all devastated afterwards. but whats a good fanfiction if it doesnt affect the reader tho heh(and your certainly is a great fanfiction. one of the greatest)) is it because of the giant clusterfuck that 7 and/or 8 is gonna be? (kamino ward, all might reveal, kidnappings+ SHINSOU) im legit worried haha ( btw "(accidental) dad might: Stealth Style" is my favorite tag now)

i cultivate my tags with pride. im glad you enjoyed that one in particular :3c and also... thank you... i was super insecure abt ch6 so it’s really nice hearing ppl liked it! i really appreciate it <3 

the next chapter(s?) are going to be a clusterfuck so you are probably wise to be legit worried. preemptive apologies. i don’t know why im doing this and im sorry also 

Anonymous said: I don't actually believe that Shinsou did it, naturally. Maybe the villains pin the blame on him cause it's easier to do it to someone that everyone is already wary about? I honestly have no idea, you're too unpredictable with some of these things

u have a good nose anon... but also when have i EVER been unpredictable about anything. my taste and storytelling is incredibly predictable in that it is always The Worst and Incredibly Self Indulgent. all you have to do to pick out the path im taking is think “what path allows simk to pander to their own interests the most?” and thats the path i’ll take. this is exactly what is happening with the entirety of this fic and especially with this next arc 

Anonymous said: is shinsou being blackmailed?? controlled by someone else?? someone stole his face?? was he used as a hostage bc he interacted with class I-A more? or is someone threatening izuku again or.. ahhh idk what it is but I really feel he is not a traitor so: my current theories about shinsou. am I close?? 

yes to all of the above 

Anonymous said: Pretty sure you didn't get many theories yet cause we are still in shock. Send help pls. (Loved the chapter btw that chapter was legit a roller-coaster of feels.)

theres no help to be found. i did this irrevocably and now theres nothing we can do about it 

(thank you! i’m really glad to hear that, and hope that you have recovered from your shock :p )

Anonymous said: thoughts on shinsou's reasons: bakugou is a abusive shit who is undeserving of being a hero and made him lose all faith in heroes, blackmail, threats, brainwashing, some other type of convincing, he has been the traitor the whole time and you just want to kill us with angst, the LoV is threatening deku and if he doesn't help them they kill him, rage against society has reached its peak (same tho), or he wants to get back at bakugou, or the Cat Cafe is being threatened. please stop killing me.

this is a really impressive laundry list of unconventional reasons for shinsou to join the villain alliance. i love it. i too would become a villain in order to save my favorite cat cafe and spite a person i don’t like 

@armcontrolnerve said: it was himiko in the study with the candlestick 

d...does this make shinsou the murder victim 

Anonymous said: I JUST READ THE NEW CHAPTER AND JUST WANTED TO DROP BY AND SAY YOU'VE UTTERLY WRECKED ME. I have tears in my eyes, I am currently flailing about like a fish while my brain goes into overdrive trying to dodge the reality of that ending. Shinsou was helping Izuku not two scenes ago, he was probably kidnapped and forced to do it against his will via torture or something. I refuse to believe that Shinsou is a villain and you cannot tell me oTHERWISE

good instincts. hold onto that feeling 

Anonymous said: My guess: shinsou was kidnapped by Villain Alliance. Himiko Toga is using her quirk to impersonate him. But...why

bad pr image for yuuei 

Anonymous said: all im thinking is that girl with the quirk that lets her shapeshift into people if she gets their blood and im just. oh no. shinsou. how could u do this to the poor sweet gay boy. meet me in the pit for a fight, and also a round of compliments for ur fucking writing skills. u made me cry. i love this fic so much but unfortunately i still have to challenge u to a duel, for the sake of these poor children, and their mental health,,, (ps i love ur writing and ur fantastic!! byeee)

if you kill me youll never get these children back alive

(thank u though... this made me laugh. rest assured that i will promptly apply all my writing skills to elucidating the mystery of what happened to shinsou) 

Anonymous said: Shinsou probably got his quirk stolen by Sensei or someone is impersonating him I guess. Or his classmates are jerks and framing him or something. Smh

his classmates threw him under the bus

@sunslammerdown​ said: hi i am a person who reads your very extremely good fanfiction... thanks very much and also Wow Rude How Dare You. you said you were surprised at not getting more shinsou theories so heres my two: 1) It Was Toga, shinsou is kidnapped its not good 2) It Was All For One who can take quirks and use them on people and shinsou has a mind control quirk, its very not good still

what if its... 3) both, for maximum suffering, and the ultimate very not good happenstance 

@viperofsand​ said: I am sure I had something in mind when giving my review while I was reading chap 6, but after the final part my mind was all 'WHAT THE HELLLLLL', so, there is that. Also, I am inaugurating #ShinsouIsNotAVillain2017 for this fic starting now.

this is a good hashtag. i’m behind it. i have no right to be but i am 

Anonymous said: ok i'm trying not to panic bc of the cliffhanger but just tell me, will we know /why/ shinso is doing what he's doing ?? i'm trying not to spoil for ppl 

no worries! we will find out exactly what happened to shinsou...

@auspiciouswhiskers​ said: How much do I have to pay for a Shinsou redemption and/or Shindeku endgame because pleeease you have responsibilities

you don’t even have to ask. its already under way...

(more specifically: you just don’t even need to ask. there just isnt a need. hold that thought for a shindeku endgame though bc who KNOWS where im headed with that) 

Anonymous said: Izuku's gonna lure Shinsou with cats and everything will be just fine. Izuku holding up fuku, taka and isao: you know u can't harm them Shinsou: defeated

this is the ultimate villain shinsou ask. nothing is ever going to top this. you dont even need to fight shinsou you just have to appeal to him with cats and he’ll crumble instantly 

Anonymous said: Eh, I don't know if I'm angry, but I am a tad disappointed if it actually is "what it looks like" with Shinsou. I mean his whole deal is that while his power seems like one that a villain would have, he doesn't actually want to use it that way. If he really is a villain in your story, that sorta defeats the purpose of his character, you know? But I guess I'll just wait and see what you plan to do with it.

that aspect of his character is probably what makes what im doing 100% more awful so i guess what im trying to say is: don’t worry it’s not what it seems, but also, i should not be allowed to touch a computer 

Anonymous said: ok ok i have an idea about why shinsou provided inside help(i hope im at least a little right or im going to cry): he was threatened by the league? they saw him hanging out with deku and probably knew that he didnt know he was Hella Strong or smth and were like "look, if u dont want ur friend to die ur gonna have to Cooperate" and shinsou being an amazing friend was like "U LEAVE HIM ALONE U COCKROACH" and he did That. it probably happened in That One Stupid Horrible Month (please. PLEASE)

shinsou became a villain for deku confirmed. be gay, turn to the dark side 

Anonymous said: honestly while i'm still Actually Dead over the latest chapter Izuku having his Gay Awakening over someone who stabs him in the back is Relatable lol

h...hold that thought... 

also. i’m really sorry to hear that, and i hope you’re in a better place now. may your future gay relationships be blessed

Anonymous said: It's Mamoru. The ending to your new chapter is definitely a twist that I didn't expect at all. But oddly I'm not angry. Is Shinsou really going to be a villain? Because it kinda goes against he is fighting for. Or is he threatened?

spoiler alert...

@chocowl said: holy fuck simk

A theory: was Shinsou kidnapped by the VA and Himiko used her Quirk to look like him? That would explain the silence towards Izuku and would heal our tormented souls Q-Q

the truth is, the entire villain alliance is conspiring to fuck over shinsou, specifically

[strangesmallbard]

1, 2, 7, 15, 25, 28, 37. you don't have to answer them all! I'm very curious and I love your fic!

ghfgGHF thank you so much!! this made me smile oh gosh. i’m sorry this is so late, i haven’t been on anything but tumblr mobile in a good while and i tend to only lurk on there.

1. Describe your comfort zone– a typical you-fic.

swan queen LMAO. anything with a lot of women tbh, i haven’t completed a fic with a dude narrator in so long. romance could probably be considered a comfort zone even though it’s not irl. i love writing one-shots, and they’re either in a short prose style w/ more humor and attention to dialogue or long-winded, almost stream of consciousness. i usually write aus these days for ouat lmao, but i also like working w/ canon if there’s something interesting i want to expand on. i’m also trying to get more comfortable writing multichaps w/ longer plots! it’s challenging bc my brain is a mess, but v fun.

2. Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

hmm, nothing super in particular comes to mind. maybe best friends to lovers? snowed-in? i’ll keep thinking on this one. i recently wrote a meetcute in the airport, and that was really fun.

3. Share a snipped from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

hoo boY i think this section from “there’s always love if you need it,” which is a year in the life fic post emma breaking up w/ ho0k. i like this bit bc i feel good about the descriptions, imagery, and i feel pretty solid about the characterization which is rare bc i’m always nervous about that.

winter,

After Emma leaves Killian, she considers leaving Storybrooke. It wouldn’t be forever, she reasons, just to get her bearings, walk along once familiar streets in the skin of a once familiar life. She used to be a lot of someones and no-ones, and now she doesn’t know what shape tomorrow will take.

But she doesn’t leave. She finds herself driving to 108 Mifflin Street and ringing the doorbell. Regina answers and Emma is brought back to her last someone, when nervous, confused energy burned in her belly and something like hope burned equally bright in her chest. She didn’t know it was that word, then.

“Emma,“ she says, not Ms. Swan. “I heard.” Concern curves the end of the consonant, and Regina shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her hand grasps the door frame, maroon nail polish catching cool porch-lamp light.

Emma wants to say, I was ready. Emma wants to say, I felt hollowed out like a pumpkin during halloween, all my everything somewhere else and I don’t know where. Emma wants to say, I’m tired.

She says, “Still have that glass of the best apple cider I’ve ever tasted?”

(regina’s smile is like sunset along the maine coast; gradual, soft, picture-worthy but you don’t want to spare a moment looking away.)

“Of course.”

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

god “when in the chronicle of wasted time.” regina saving emma w/ true love’s kiss. can you imagine. GOD

25. What do you look for in a beta?

oh man i haven’t Officially Looked for a beta in a long time. usually i pass it off to trusted friends and i’m like PLEASE TEAR THIS APART. what i would look for though is someone with a similar style?

28. Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

oh gosh!! i love so many that i’m gonna expand this a little bc even in swen i have so many. so here’s three swen, two non-swen.

amycarey, deemn, skywideopen, wagyubeefy, and montparnasse! 

what i love about amycarey’s fic is that emma and regina (and their relationship) are still so recognizable in every single au. like, no matter what the premise is, it’s like AH YES THERE THEY ARE. and all of her aus!!! some of my favorite sq fics. down the rabbit hole was such a beautifully written and healing fic, it’ll stay with me always.  

deemn’s fics are like…gosh every single word she puts together in a sentence. i feel SO much. if you like swan queen and haven’t read who needs shelter yet please read who needs shelter please let that fic be part of your life. 

skywideopen wrote an AMAZING sw!dw fic that was absolutely everything i ever wanted out of a sq!dw fic, it was so emma and regina i cried, and it was also so true to the dw universe! spark is absolutely amazing.

wagyubeefy writers wicked fic and it’s !!! wicked was my first fandom and i always wanted a modern oz au, and boy does wagyubeefy have modern oz aus! they translate the issues of wicked to a society that also deeply reflects ours and has an incredible take on elphaba, glinda, and every character and have such a seamless, clear way of telling stories and !! so awesome.

montparnasse writes for hp, dragon age, and other fandoms and their narration/use of language is so gorgeous, like. i can’t even convey. they write rarepairs for hp like tonks/fleur and ginny/luna and each fic has just so much beautiful imagery and description and characterizations. GOSH wow.

37. Talk about your current wips.

aah!! unfortunately they are Very wips bc i have no time until the summer to work on any of them. but! here they are.

“one step, not much (but it says enough)” is my first tentative step back into multichaps, and one chapter is released already! the premise is that henry goes away to college, and emma/regina suddenly are confronted with their feelings w/ each other and It’s a Mess, also someone is trying to destroy sb, so that’s a mood. it’s also solidly in the romcom genre w/ some very sharp/sad moments, and i’m having so much developing sb into the hilarious mess it should be. the parks department hates the charmings. lesbian nights at the rabbit hole

unnamed as of now but i lovingly call it the “disaster road trip au” even though the road trip is only half the fic. it’s a college au and the basic premise is that emma and regina dated in highschool, they break up, emma moves away, years later in college she runs into zelena and they miraculously start a wild friendship. over winter break they take a road trip and end up having to pick up regina along the way and it Is A Mess and i’m excited to write it.

unnamed parks and rec au. if you’re on twitter u might have heard of this one, but regina is leslie, emma is ben, marian is ann, mm is chris, and hook is jamm.

that x files au i think i’ve been working on since last summer OH boy. regina is mulder and emma is scully but they’re also both mulder and both scully. one day i’ll figure it out.

[jennnn-kimmmm]

3:56

oops i never got around to writing my end of year post like i meant to. i feel like so much has happened over the past year and honestly i don’t rly remember too much of it. the first half of the year went by so fast, rly just building up to around may. it’s so weird thinking about where i was at the beginning of 2019 compared to where i am now. 

with school and teaching, i think that the experience i’ve gotten so far has been rly good and it’s made me have to reflect a lot on what i plan on doing with my life. honestly, i questioned my career choice, maybe too many times for my own comfort. it’s a rly, rly difficult and demanding job and i don’t think that a lot of ppl realize how hard teaching is. i think a lot of the time, it’s viewed as like glorified babysitting and not taken to seriously. but being thrown into the midst of everything and actually having control over my own classroom, it’s a lot. having to cater to every kid’s needs and making sure they’re able to be successful in their learning while maintaining control over the class as a whole is so overwhelming sometimes. the first time i subbed, i literally went home and cried. i’m rly gonna have to step it up on making sure i take care of my mental health bc it’s so easy to get sucked into feeling like i’m failing the kids. some days were rly tough but the good days always make it worth it and it was nice to see growth in the kids’ learning by the end of the semester. i also rly need to step it up with school. i kinda just floated by and did the bare minimum to get through the semester and no way is that gonna cut it, especially with my thesis. honestly not super invested and motivated with my thesis but i have to get it done. between my thesis, a full course load, studying for the rica, and student teaching almost all week, i’m gonna be exhausted, rip. just 5 more months though!

LMAO at my personal life this year omg. the first half of the year was whatever. i kind gave up on looking for a relationship and had pretty much convinced myself that it wasn’t something i needed atm bc it would just be a distraction that i didn’t need. i figured i could date around, not look for anything serious and be fine. idk why i thought that, considering how easily i get attached and when i got attached to kevin, it hit me like a ton of bricks. i honestly still can’t explain what it was about him and why him. he used to ask me all the time like why i fought so hard for him. i know there were a bunch of smaller reasons but i was just drawn to him for some reason. on our first date, it had been a while since i had felt that way about someone and once we started dating, i couldn’t get enough of him. there were so many red flags and it was so obvious that it was not gonna shape up to be a healthy relationship. i still have rly mixed feelings about the relationship. i hate that i overlooked so many things and let myself be weak and get dragged around in the relationship. i gave so many excused and was too willing to let him in even though i knew that he was just gonna hurt me again. yet i still have a soft spot for him and care about him as a friend. i know he still cares too. it’s so dumb but when i’m beta testing his app, i see the little details he throws into the UI design for me. i don’t know if he does it to be manipulative and try to and keep me on the hook, but when i see it, it melts my heart a little. i’m definitely over him in terms of ever wanting to get back with him. i know it would never be a good decision. with getting over that relationship, i think it’s more so being kind of sad that it didn’t work out. it’s probably for the best that it didn’t. we really weren’t healthy for each other and sometimes brought out the worst in each other. and i know majority of it wasn’t necessarily my fault, but i think part of me still feels like i failed him and that contributes to the whole relationship being kind of bittersweet. UGH and then there’s roger and our relationship which is a total 180 from kevin. it’s just so easy with roger. he treats me the way i deserve to be treated and he’s clear with his intentions and feelings. it’s a healthy relationship for me to be in. im happy and i feel good when i’m with him. i feel like my only hesitation with the relationship is that it’s gotten so serious so quickly. which isn’t a bad thing. i’ve always said that i date with a purpose. i think just realizing the actual reality of like holy shit this is the person i could end up with for forever is kinda scary. but in like a good way. i just want to make sure that i’m making the best decision for myself. and i feel like it’s kinda stupid to have to be stressing about that so early into a relationship but ever since he said i love you, i guess it’s just been a little overwhelming. idk how to explain it. it’s like overwhelming in the sense that i just need a second to breathe, but just a second. i want so badly to be able to return his feelings but i’m also hesitant, just bc i feel like i’ve been burned in the past, so i’m less in a hurry to jump right in with my emotions. i need to stop concentrating on what’s happened in my past and assuming that the same thing will happen again. it’s just rly scary. i know he means it when he says it. like in my brain, i know it. but im also scared that if i let him in too far, he’ll end up breaking me like the last two did. i’ve also never been in this position in a relationship before, where i’m the one lagging with my emotions so i also just kinda feel like i’m lowkey disappointing him but i know that’s stupid. i think my goal with this relationship is to just go at my own pace and let things play out. i just need time. 

man this got long. tl;dr school and teaching are just chugging along as expected. relationships are hard. i need to trust myself more. 2020 be good to me pls.