#no this was not inspired by me remembering how many copies i have of one book

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗙𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒄��𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris records a TikTok with Tara after many requests from both fandoms, but fans reacted contrary to what he expected, generating questioning thoughts in Y/N.

WARNING: Crying, comparison, fighting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The morning sun beamed beyond the half-open curtains in the living room, painting the room with orange and gold tones. Sitting at the kitchen table, Y/N immersed herself in her books, trying to focus on her notes as the sounds of Nick and Matt echoed around the house.

At that moment, Chris was absent. He had gone to Tara's house, a new friend of the triplets and, consequently, of Y/N, who had recently become a frequent figure in their lives. The objective was to record a video for Tara's channel since after the large group's social media post together, both fandoms started begging for collabs.

As Y/N immersed herself in her studies, a notification flashed on her phone screen. The girl looked up at her device, seeing the new message.

pretty boy: hi baby!! look, we did a tiktok! I look so cool: link.

A smile curved Y/N's lips as she clicked on the link, curious to see the result of one of Chris and Tara's creations. The video started, and she immediately recognized the song as one of her favorites, humming softly as her eyes captured the funny dance and interaction between the two.

A laugh escaped her lips when she saw Chris shaking his head in the lyrics "Would you get down on knees for me?", remembering all the times the song played when they were together, and exactly in this part, Chris always got down on his knees in front of Y/N, making her laugh.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to relax and enjoy the scene. It was a genuine demonstration of their new friendship, and Y/N felt grateful to be part of that dynamic.

However, her joy was momentary.

As the video came to an end, Y/N scrolled through the comments, eager to see the reaction of Tara's followers. What she found left her cold.

Among the funny and complimentary comments, there was a barrage of messages that cut like sharp knives. Ardent fans of both Tara and Chris were heavily shipping them, completely ignoring Chris's long-standing and public relationship with Y/N.

"Chris and Tara are so cute together!"

"I so wanted them to be a couple 😭"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you don't hold a candle to Tara. Chris deserves someone like her."

The words echoed in Y/N's mind, like a distant echo of an approaching storm. She felt a tightness in her chest, a mixture of sadness, anger, and confusion.

How could they be so cruel? How could they judge their relationship based on fragments of a distorted reality? Y/N felt vulnerable, exposed to the relentless cruelty of the virtual world.

Her thumb moved automatically as she left the comment box, sliding the screen to the TikTok below the one she was watching, craving a quick distraction. But her hope was suddenly dashed when she saw that the next video was an edit of Chris and Tara's TikTok and all the others after.

She knew the fans were fast, but at that moment, she wanted them to be as slow as possible.

Y/N closed the app with a heavy sigh, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It was difficult not to let the strangers' words and opinions get to her.

With a determined effort to forget about it momentarily, Y/N turned her attention back to the books, seeking refuge in the comforting familiarity of the printed pages, forgetting to answer Chris.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The day was coming to an end. In the room shared by Y/N and Chris, the atmosphere was filled with a silent energy, interrupted only by the gentle slide of Y/N's fingers over her phone screen, and the low sounds of various videos.

She was lying in their bed, having already taken a comforting shower, but her mind was still shrouded in a haze of dark thoughts. As she scrolled through her TikTok's For You, romantic edits of Chris and Tara popped up with disturbing frequency. Y/N's expression was a mixture of sadness and self-questioning, her eyes reflecting an inner storm.

She felt her mind defeat her with thoughts of comparison. She knew she would never reach Tara's beauty, humor, and even body.

The heavy atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door opening gently. Chris entered the room, radiating an aura of euphoria. His eyes sparkled with joy, and a smile spread across his face with ease.

"Hi, my pretty girl!" Chris greeted, closing the door behind him. "You won't believe how amazing the video with Tara turned out. I can't wait for her to post it so you can see it!"

"Hey, baby! I'm so happy you had fun." Y/N looked up from her cell, forcing a smile on her lips, trying with all her might not to reveal her current state - the last thing she wanted to do was ruin Chris's excitement, but the sadness still hovered in her eyes.

Chris immediately noticed the change in her expression and approached the bed, worried.

"What happened, babe?" He asked in a worried tone, frowning and sitting down next to her.

She just shook her head slightly, unable to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. Chris reached out to caress her face gently, seeking to comfort her with his loving touch.

"You didn't answer my text, I really thought something was happening... You know you can tell me anything, right?" Chris continued gently. He didn't want to force anything out of her.

Y/N nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. Before he could say anything else, Chris noticed the phone in her hand with almost silent sounds escaping from the speaker, leaning over to peer at the screen.

Romantic edits of Chris and Tara filled Y/N's device. He swallowed hard, instantly connecting the dots.

Chris's comforting touch on Y/N's face seemed to turn cool. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a sigh escaped his lips before he could control it.

"Y/N, are you really upset because of these silly edits?" The boy questioned, his voice filled with disbelief. His touch against the warm skin disappeared within seconds, the boy removing his hand from her face before sitting down on the bed.

Y/N flinched at the accusation implicit in his words, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes as she struggled to find a coherent response.

"It's not just because of the edits..." She, her voice shaking with turbulent emotions. "Did you see the comments? They-"

Chris shook his head impatiently, cutting her off abruptly, frustration beginning to seep into his expression. He couldn't understand why something as trivial as fan edits could affect his girlfriend so much.

"Y/N, this is ridiculous!" He continued firmly. "These edits and comments don't mean anything. They're just fan jokes. It's not the end of the world." His voice came out louder than before, his posture now rigid.

His words hit Y/N like a sharp knife, making her feel even more inadequate and misunderstood. Anger bubbled inside her, a simmering mix of resentment and hurt.

"You don't understand, Chris!" She snapped, her voice shaking slightly. Her right hand worked to lock the screen of her phone in one quick motion, tossing it aside. "This isn't just about the edits. It's about how I feel about being compared to Tara, about how it's making me feel inferior to her! How would you feel if people started wanting to see me with a man other than you? While I'm in a relationship with you!"

Chris rolled his eyes dismissively, his patience beginning to wear thin at the intensity of Y/N's emotions.

“You’re so tiring sometimes, Y/N.” He snapped without thinking, his voice tinged with irritation, not giving a damn about how his girlfriend felt. "I can't deal with all this insecurity all the time. It's fucking exhausting."

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless, her rigid posture quickly crumbling. She felt tears run down her face without force as the painful realization settled in her heart.

She was tiring. She was insecure. She was too much for him to handle.

The pain of rejection burned in her chest as she retrieved her phone again, ripping the comforter off her legs. Her lips were pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the ugly sobs that she wanted to let out. She wouldn't give herself the luxury of showing Chris how much he hurt her.

The girl got up from the bed in one quick movement, grabbing her pillow and heading towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Chris's voice echoed harshly behind her, his body rising from the mattress quickly.

"I'll sleep in the living room." Y/N responded curtly, turning the handle with ease before walking through the door, slamming it, feeling more alone than ever amidst the multitude of turbulent emotions.

She could feel her heart being crushed a little more when she didn't hear Chris call for her again, let alone try to reach her.

The stairs leading to the living room were silent, and her pillow clutched to her chest as a last vestige of comfort in a world that seemed to be falling apart around her. Each step up echoed like a lonely echo in an emotional void that seemed to swallow her whole.

Upon reaching the living room, Y/N found refuge on the empty couch. She curled into the soft upholstery, hugging the pillow tightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks silently. The phone rested next to her, emitting a dim light that wouldn't turn off, almost begging her to pick it up again.

Hours dragged by like centuries as Y/N fought the ghosts of her own mind.

At some point, she had given up resisting and was on her TikTok again. The algorithm seemed to hate her, delivering her frequent videos of Chris and Tara, which were like a sharp dagger in her heart.

They would really look beautiful together.

Dawn fell heavily upon her, but sleep refused to welcome her into its comforting arms. Instead, she found herself trapped in a whirlwind of torturous thoughts, her mind pounding incessantly with doubts and questions about her relationship with Chris.

Until her brain shuts down completely, letting tiredness win.

At 3 a.m., in the darkness of the night, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the room. Chris was there, his tired face etched with worry and regret.

His eyes quickly found Y/N's figure lying on the couch, already asleep, curled up and shivering slightly from the cold. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the swelling that surrounded them, the traces of tears on her cheeks and her still damp face. Next to her, her phone repeatedly played one of the videos she had watched before falling asleep.

A lump formed in Chris's throat. He intensely blamed himself for not having thought before acting and, much less, noticing how much his actions had affected his girlfriend.

With hesitant steps, he approached her, feeling the weight of his own anguish on his shoulders.

Gently, Chris turned off her phone, cutting the endless cycle of pain that had consumed Y/N. He then crouched down beside her, studying her peaceful face with a mixture of love and pain.

With a resigned sigh, the boy carefully took her into his arms, hooking them around her back and behind her knees, feeling the weight of her fragile body against his own chest. Y/N hummed softly in response to his touch but didn't fully wake up.

Chris carried her down the stairs and back to their bedroom, where the soft light from the lamp bathed the room in yellow tones. Tenderly, he placed her on the soft mattress, covering her with the comforter carefully so as not to wake her.

Y/N shifted slightly under Chris's touch and the new surface beneath her limbs, her eyebrows furrowing in an expression of discomfort. She looked restless, as if she were immersed in a nightmare.

Chris watched her for a moment, feeling the weight of his own harsh words weigh on him like an anchor. He knew he had hurt Y/N deeply, and the pain of seeing her suffer was almost unbearable.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to her, his hand reaching for her with a tentative touch. Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes finally slowly opening to meet Chris's. She fought the urge to get up and leave the room again, her anger at Chris's actions and sadness in her mind, making her want to avoid him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, sharing a silent understanding that transcended words, Y/N making the decision to let him say what he wanted.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Chris muttered, his voice thick with regret. "I was insensitive and selfish. I didn't want to hurt you, I acted on impulse and completely without thinking. This whole situation is not silly if it hurts and bothers you, and I promise that we can talk better about what you saw and how you felt, and solve this together... Just please, give me this chance?"

Y/N blinked slowly, her eyes locked on Chris's as she processed his words. For a moment, she felt the weight of hurt and disappointment pressing against her, but then she saw the sincerity in Chris's eyes, the pure, unconditional love he had always offered her.

And in that moment, she knew that forgiveness was the only good choice to make. With a sigh, she squeezed Chris's hand tenderly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

"Just one chance. I want you to fix what you did and do it right this time."

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[filibusterfrog]

Hi there!

I was screaming about this to a friend and then realised I should also send it to your face, bc why talk nicely about someone behind their back when you could also let them in on it!

Your art is incredible and always brings a smile to my face, I remember many years back when I was a lil 13 year old coming across some of your art that was stolen and reposted on pinterest and being instantly captivated and spending an hour finding one with your watermark so I could look you up.

Your art was a major turning point for me in going from just copying how to draw anime books in my local library to trying to figure out what sort of style I wanted to draw in and learning more of the fundamentals. I recently raved in a friend's DMs about your art and character design and they told me they could absolutely still see a bunch of your influences in my art and characters to this day, even over half a decade on, as well as countless costumes for larp.

Your art has always inspired me, and for years now, whenever I have art block (and I remember), I'll scroll through your art and remember what I like about doing art and think what I want to create, rather than getting caught up in what I feel like I should make.

Your art indirectly linked me in with amazing communities, and the best people I have ever met. Seeing your art during the bushfires was a huge comfort to me, it was a scary and terrible time and seeing someone else sharing my feelings and making them visible in a way I couldn't do yet was so helpful to me in ways I can't describe.

This has been long and overly sappy, but know that your art made an impact on a little 13 year old who felt alone, who's now an adult with a strong community.

Please look after yourself, and know that even if you never make anything ever again, you've still touched people's lives for the better.

hello anon! ive been rereading this ask almost daily since you sent it :) thank you very much for letting me know, there are few things i like better than people telling me that my work means something to them.

[fool-tarnished]

"Remember me" - Chapter 1 - Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Synopsis : Born in Konoha, [Y/N] wasn't necessarily known as the most impressive or powerful ninja, but rather for her kindness and compassion. She became like an older sister to Naruto and a loyal, faithful friend to many ninjas in Konoha. Without even realizing it, she had earned a special place in the heart of one particular ninja with grey hair. But everything changed the day the Third Hokage entrusted her with a mission from which she would not return unscathed. Pairing : Kakashi Hatake x Reader If you want to read Yamato's version, you can find it here.

Warnings : Violence, memory loss List : Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // ...

Inspiration : Remember me - d4vd

Words : ~ 3000 A/N : Hello there ! Here's the first chapter of a new story for Kakashi. There'll be many chapters (i don't know how many yet) and i'll do the same one for Tenzo/Yamato if some are interested (with a similar first chapter, but the rest won't be the same). So I hope you'll like it ! Thank you all for the likes and reblog ! And sorry for the mistakes, I'm not a native english speaker.

_________________________________

Long before Naruto left with Jiraiya, the Third Hokage entrusted you with a mission. A mission that, of course, you wouldn’t undertake alone, but whose duration was impossible to predict. A mission that wasn’t supposed to be particularly dangerous either, but it still worried the young ninja, who had asked you to decline it and stay in Konoha.

You and Naruto had known each other for a few years now, and a sort of sibling-like relationship had formed between you. You didn’t necessarily show it, but you cared for each other as if you were almost family. The young blonde deeply appreciated having someone by his side he could consider an older sister: because yes, you were much closer in age to his famous sensei Kakashi than to him.

On the day of your departure, Naruto couldn’t help but ask you to promise that you’d go to Ichiraku together upon your return. That you’d promise to come back as soon as possible and, of course, without a scratch. A promise you made without hesitation and one you hoped to keep.

Kakashi, on his end, with whom you had built a connection during your time in the Special Forces, also came to say a few words before you left. Your relationship with the Copy Ninja was quite peculiar. You were close yet distant, making it complex between the two of you and in the eyes of others. You had never really put words to what it meant, and it hadn’t seemed to bother either of you.

At least, until things began to change for you. You were afraid of not returning, not just for Naruto’s sake but also for Kakashi’s. Yet, the fear was drastically different for each, which led you to question how your relationship with him had evolved. The feelings you experienced at the thought of leaving without knowing when you’d return and see him again weren’t the same as those you had for your other friends—Kurenai, Iruka, or Asuma. Something had shifted within you, and you hadn’t had time to reflect on it before being assigned this new mission.

"Be careful, [Y/N]. You wouldn’t want to miss the promise you made to Naruto. And don’t forget, you also owe me a replacement for that Icha Icha volume you ruined during our last training session," the grey-haired ninja said, with a smile you could easily discern beneath his mask. You left with your team, giving them one last look and a wave. Kakashi didn’t take his eyes off you until you were out of sight. ________________________________________

Crossing the Land of Wind had proven to be more arduous than expected. Whether due to the weather, unfortunate encounters, or other unforeseen events, it took you several weeks to reach its far edge. The team leader was the only one privy to the mission's details, and your task was to ensure their safe passage and protection. After finding the messenger, you set out again, this time for the Land of Earth. It was a particularly lengthy mission, but it seemed to be of critical importance to the Third Hokage, who had strongly emphasized its success at any cost. As for the contents of these messages? None of you had the slightest clue.

The journey through the various lands and the delivery of these messages ultimately took several months. You hadn’t faced any overwhelming challenges—just minor injuries, small delays, but nothing insurmountable. Nevertheless, the desire to return home grew stronger with each passing day. Every team member began to feel the absence of their loved ones, some even missing their children. As for you, you missed Naruto’s antics, the humor of your friends, and… the Copy Ninja, but for reasons that had become much harder to define.

It was during the final leg of your journey that these new feelings surfaced most clearly.

In the Land of Lightning, things took a turn for the worse. While crossing the vast expanse of rocks and mountains at night, you encountered a group of ninjas whose origins and true intentions you couldn’t discern. Everything happened far too quickly for you to fully grasp what was going on. A confrontation broke out, and the team leader made the decision to prioritize delivering the message, splitting the group in two.

This left you with just one teammate to try to hold off the enemies and buy time for the other two to escape.

The opponents didn’t seem particularly strong, but fighting at night clearly put you at a disadvantage. Fatigue began to take its toll, likely contributing to the event that would change everything for you.

As you saw several shurikens speeding toward your teammate, you decided to deflect them with your kunai to prevent him from being injured while fighting one of the attackers. What you failed to notice, however, was the unstable ground beneath your feet. Perhaps it was a combination of exhaustion, an unstable surface, and a strike from one of the enemies that caused you to begin a long fall from the rock where you had been standing. Without fully understanding what was happening, you desperately tried to grab hold of something—but it was futile. Your head struck a rock, and everything suddenly went black.

________________________________________

After spending more than a year and a half on the mission and successfully completing it, the team leader and the member who had accompanied them set out to search for the two ninjas they had left behind in the Land of Lightning.

It didn’t take them long to find their first comrade, who had been taken in by the Hidden Cloud Village, where they were treated and waiting for the team’s return. As for you, however, the story was different.

They found no trace of you—only your headband, which did little to encourage their search given its poor condition. They spent several weeks in Kumo, hoping to uncover information or even the faintest clue about your status or whereabouts, but their efforts turned up nothing.

Eventually, they returned to Konoha, disheartened, but determined to deliver their report to the Hokage and hand over your headband. Yet, much had changed since their departure. ________________________________________

"The mission is complete, Lady Hokage. All the messages have been delivered."

Tsunade carefully observed the ninjas standing before her.

"However, we couldn’t find [Y/N]. Only her headband was recovered. We don’t know if she’s dead or missing."

After uttering these words, the ninja lowered their head and placed the headband on the Hokage’s desk. Tsunade furrowed her brow slightly before picking up the object and examining it closely.

"Tell me everything about this mission," she said, her gaze still fixed on the damaged headband.

________________________________________

"We’ll probably run out of firewood tonight. I’ll go fetch some."

The elderly woman standing beside you gave a faint smile and nodded. She was preparing one of her famous soups, a recipe you now knew by heart. Its aroma always brought you comfort, especially in the winter.

Dressing warmly to head outside, you opened the door and carefully closed it behind you, letting out a sigh. The cold was so biting that you hurried to gather the wood and return inside. It was a ritual you had carried out every winter for the past two years, and to you, it felt as though you had never known anything else. In truth, you weren’t even sure if you had known anything else.

Everything was hazy—you remembered nothing beyond these moments spent in the little house nestled deep in the forest. How had you ended up there? Where had you come from? Why did it seem as though you couldn’t recall anything from before this home?

Poor Yubaba didn’t seem to know any more than you did. She would simply tell you that you asked too many questions whenever you embarked on this inner quest about your past. She’d say that everything would come back to you one day, but for now, your mind and body needed rest.

And you didn’t understand those words either. Why would you need rest? Was it tied to the headaches you frequently experienced?

Taking a deep breath, you firmly grasped the bundle of wood before stepping back inside the house. You placed it in front of the large fireplace that illuminated the modest living room where the old woman spent most of her time.

"This should be enough for tonight. But I’ll have to chop more for tomorrow," you said.

She turned to you gently, lifting the large pot and carrying it over to the table.

"Take off that heavy coat, Fubuki, and come warm yourself up and eat. It’ll do you good. Don’t forget your tea—it’ll help with your pain."

Nodding, you finally shed your warm layers, returning to your usual attire, and sat down at the table. Fubuki. It sounded strange, almost like it wasn’t real. Like everything around you.

And yet, how could you truly question the only things you knew when the rest of your existence was nothing but a massive void?

"Thank you for the meal, Yubaba," you said softly.

________________________________________

"So, how did the training go? Did it pay off?" Tsunade asked, seated at her desk.

"You really think we’d have come back if we hadn’t made any progress?" Jiraiya retorted, hands on his hips.

"We’ll see about that," she shot back, before Naruto jumped in with questions.

Kakashi was outside, seated near the window. Book in hand, he was quietly listening to the conversation inside. Naruto was back, and while the Copy Ninja was glad to see his student again, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of unease at the possibility of a certain topic coming up.

Tsunade had informed him months earlier that your team had returned from its mission. While Kakashi hadn’t shown it openly, he had been eager to see you again. The unpleasant news of your absence had shaken him more than he let on. Something deep inside him had stung sharply when the Hokage mentioned your damaged headband, accompanied by a lack of any additional clues—no body, no clear information about your fate.

He had stayed silent, though his face betrayed more than he intended. The Hokage hadn’t known what else to say and had simply expressed hope: the absence of a body might mean you were still alive, somewhere. And that one day, you might find your way back to Konoha.

Kakashi hadn’t responded. Instead, he abruptly changed the subject, redirecting the conversation to Naruto’s return and what lay ahead. The abruptness of his shift had startled Tsunade, but she didn’t push him further. She could tell he had emotionally shut himself off, erecting a barrier around him that might take time to dismantle. While she had tried to offer hope for your return, even she was unsure if there was anything left to hope for after so much time had passed.

"Well, Naruto, you’ve certainly grown," the silver-haired ninja remarked as Naruto leaned through the window, looking for him.

"And you haven’t changed a bit!" Naruto shot back.

With that, Naruto vaulted through the window. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a copy of the book that always seemed to brighten his sensei’s day.

"I’ve got a present for you, Kakashi-sensei!"

Shaking with surprise and joy, Kakashi accepted the book from his student under the watchful eyes of Sakura, Tsunade, and Jiraiya.

"By the way, do you know where I can find [Y/N]? It’s been so long! I’ve got a gift for her too!"

Kakashi’s gaze froze on the book in his hands. He took a moment to compose himself, considering how to respond.

Sensing that the conversation might take an unpleasant turn, Tsunade stepped in.

"She’s on a mission. She’ll be back soon, Naruto. For now, I believe you have plans with Kakashi."

Kakashi let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes briefly.

"I’ll be waiting for you at Training Ground 3. See you later," he said before disappearing.

Naruto turned to the Hokage, stepping back into the room with a questioning look.

"Do you know exactly when she’ll be back? She promised me ramen at Ichiraku!"

"Maybe we should head to the training ground, don’t you think, Naruto? You’ll see her when she gets back," Sakura chimed in with a soft smile, trying to steer him away from further questions.

"Fine, I guess. Anyway, Kakashi-sensei is probably already devouring his book—did you see his face?!"

________________________________________

After the young ninjas left the room, Jiraiya stepped closer to Tsunade. "Was she killed on the mission?" he asked bluntly.

"We don’t know yet. But I’m not sure it would be good for Naruto to know about the situation right now, especially since he’s just come back. Let him settle in first."

"I’m not so sure he’ll appreciate you keeping this from him. I only saw her briefly before leaving with Naruto, but he cares about her deeply."

"He’s not the only one. But I don’t think he’s ready to hear the truth just yet."

Jiraiya sighed and lowered his gaze. Glancing outside for a brief moment, he turned his attention back to the Hokage.

"The Anbu will eventually find her—or figure out what happened to her," Tsunade said firmly.

The ninja let out a small sound of surprise before smiling. "I see. You haven’t given up. Who knows about this?"

"No one, aside from the Anbu team assigned to the search. It’s better that way."

"And Kakashi?"

A brief silence hung in the air before she replied. "Kakashi doesn’t know either."

________________________________________

Months had passed, and Yubaba’s health had continued to deteriorate. The herbal treatments she made herself no longer seemed to be enough, and no matter what, she refused to see a doctor or go to a village to seek treatment. Despite your attempts to convince her to go to Kumo, she stubbornly insisted that it was pointless and that it would pass on its own. The day she could no longer even get out of bed, you decided, despite her protests, to take her to the Kumo hospital in one last hope of helping her.

________________________________________

After long hours of walking, you had finally arrived at the Hidden Cloud Village. Thanks to some passersby, you were able to get the old woman to a safe place so she could receive care. The doctors informed you that it would take some time, and that it was best for you to return in a few hours while they did what was necessary. This is how you found yourself wandering through the village, exploring the area as if you had never seen anything like it. It was pleasant to walk around in a place with other faces besides Yubaba's, to discover new places outside of the forest you knew by heart. But the noise of the passersby gave you a headache, and you would sometimes grit your teeth when sudden bursts of pain hit you. After a few hours of wandering, you made your way towards the hospital. Night was beginning to fall, and there were fewer and fewer people outside. The small street you were walking through was particularly quiet and empty, which reminded you of the calm of Yubaba's little house. But this calm only lasted for a brief moment. “[Y/N]?” The name you heard seemed to resonate inside you, but you didn't stop walking, simply furrowing your brows slightly. Your progress was halted when two figures suddenly dropped down from the rooftops and positioned themselves in front of you. Ninja uniforms, definitely, with a mask on each face. Exactly the same outfit. You stopped dead in your tracks, opening your mouth slightly as if to protest, before turning your head to see if you could retrace your steps. But two other figures had just landed as well, blocking your way. “I don’t know what you want from me, but I have nothing on me,” you said, your gaze filled with concern as you slowly raised your hands in front of you. The two figures facing you exchanged a glance before looking back at you. “You don’t recognize us, [Y/N]?” one of them asked. You couldn’t even identify who had asked the question, as fear was starting to rise within you. “You must be mistaken... I’m not [Y/N]...” “We’ve been searching for you for months.” “I... Why? I’m just here to care for the woman I live with. I don’t know what you want, but I don’t know you.” One of the two ninjas facing you leaned toward his colleague to whisper a few words before turning back to you. “Did you desert? And Naruto?” The headache was intensifying, and emotions were surging inside you, though you didn’t really understand why. “I... I don’t understand... What are you...?” Your vision was starting to darken, and breathing became more and more difficult. You began to feel an icy chill in your chest as the figures in front of you became increasingly blurry. Before you could finish your sentence or find your words again, everything went black.

[mypoisonedvine]

now here’s a thought: jonathan crane being seduced by one of his patients

I WAS SERIOUSLY THINKING ABOUT THIS LIKE A JOKER/HARLEY QUINN MOMENT!! aaaand that's how it turned into basically a whole ass oneshot, oops

hook, line, and sinker - 1.6k words

warnings: manipulation, sexual themes/groping (18+ only please), fluff but with a dark-ish twist

"Sometimes I think you're the only one who understands me," you admitted shyly, biting your lip and looking down at the tile floor beneath you.

He leaned in a little closer, resting his arms on the table between you. "You know," he replied, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it though not quite a whisper yet, "sometimes I feel the same way."

You smiled as you looked up at him again, finding a new brightness in his eyes. "Really?" you beamed.

"Yeah," he agreed, laughing, "I really enjoy our little talks. I mean, sometimes I can't believe I'm getting paid to see you."

Giggling a little, you remembered the first time he let his guard down with you, just a bit; for weeks he'd easily dodged any personal questions, clearly knowing it was a slippery slope to countertransference and an inappropriate relationship. Unfortunately for him and everyone who had insisted that Arkham was the only facility you'd never be able to escape from, you knew from the beginning that you could use him.

You could smell it on him: that deep, overwhelming loneliness. You were far too familiar with it yourself to miss it in someone else. Sure, he kept it hidden under layer after layer of intelligence, professionalism, faked normalcy-- but it was there, and it was calling out for someone else to truly see him. You saw him from the second he walked in that armored door, back when they still kept you in the jacket; now, months later, you'd convinced him you weren't a threat and that he was the one in control of these sessions.

The other facilities, with their inspiration murals and their bean bag chairs, they were a breeze to break out of. You knew that Arkham Supermax was going to be an entirely new challenge, but you'd been preparing since the beginning. Each week with Dr. Crane, you got him to be a little naughtier for you-- first it was as simple as convincing him to let your sessions go long, leaving everyone else waiting as you poured your soul out for an extra half hour. Convincing him that you needed him, that only he could help you. Then it was the praise-- you're changing my life, I've had so many shrinks and you're the first that really listened, you're so incredible-- all that shit he'd probably been craving since his daddy didn't hug him enough or something.

Once you'd given him some compliments, he returned one to you: you made up some sob story about your low self-esteem just to get him to admit that you were attractive, and you took the compliment with a coy little thank you, Dr. Crane... that's high praise coming from you.

Then it was contraband, just little stuff. He snagged you an extra serving of dessert on your birthday; he brought you a copy of your favorite book, as a reward for increasingly good behavior. Sometimes you thought about just asking him straight-up for a metal file or few paperclips, but that would be risky-- you could throw away all your work if you jumped the gun too soon.

Then there was the journal... you knew, no matter how much he swore he wouldn't, that he was going to read that fucking journal. You couldn't be sure if that was always the plan, or if it was just a temptation he would eventually surrender to, but you wrote all these fucked up little fantasies in that journal and imagined how he'd have to loosen his tie when he read them.

Back in January: Dr. Crane keeps asking about my nightmares, I couldn't possibly admit that I've started having sexual dreams about him...

And then there was the entry from March: I didn't mean to upset him yesterday but he snapped at me when I was talking about my anger-- he said I wasn't taking accountability-- and when he got stern with me I felt myself getting wet, is that bad?

And the best one yet, just a few days ago: Dear diary, I swore I wouldn't tell anyone what he told me, so I won't even tell you-- but I'll just say that when Jonathan showed me his mask, I fell totally in love with him. People are always hiding who they really are, but he knows me, and now I know him, too. I know I should feel guilty, but I don't. I know we're meant for each other.

Your heart was racing as you realized it might all pay off tonight. Listening to his rambling rants about fear and society and humanity, journaling about your 'crush' like a schoolgirl, making doe-eyes at him during sessions-- it was all about to happen, you had him in your pocket.

"Sometimes, I..." he began again, looking down at your hands shackled to the table, "I think about seeing you more. When I'm not even here, I mean..."

You pretended to be surprised by that. "Really? I mean... do you think about just talking to me, or...?"

He smiled a little, his face turning a bit pinker. "Do you think about us doing more than just talking?" he turned the question on you instead.

"Doctor, I--"

"Jonathan."

You had to fight off a smirk; you reached forward across the table, jingling the chains that held you down, but they were just long enough to reach to his hands. You gently brushed your fingers over his, hearing him sigh as he opened his hand for you to place your hand in. You ran your middle finger delicately in a line along his palm, and he shuddered a bit. Hook, line, and sinker. "Jonathan," you started again in a low purr, "I think about so much more than talking."

"Do you ever think about... about if we could be together...?" he pressed, closing his grip to hold your hand. After this long of a seduction, you couldn't deny that touching him in such an innocuous way was getting you a little hot. Just because you were manipulating him didn't mean you were completely faking an attraction, he was sexy-- and gullible. You liked that in a man.

Trying to look conflicted, you glanced away. "I try not to imagine that," you explained, "it's... it's not possible, with me in here. I'm fine with this, if this is all I can get-- seeing you three times a week for our sessions, telling you things I never thought I'd tell anyone. I can be okay with that. Just knowing you feel even a fraction of what I do is like-- it's like-- I don't even know how to describe it. It's amazing."

Leaning in even more, he reached up and held your face-- tenderly, reverently-- and you shut your eyes as you leaned into his touch. "I wish I was as unselfish as you," he replied, "but I need more-- I need to really be with you."

You brought your hand up to hold his, jerking the chain a bit. "I need-- I need you, too," you mumbled. "Please, Jonathan," you begged in a whisper as you opened your eyes to meet his wanting gaze, "I wanna be yours."

He sat up and leaned over the table in a split second, kissing you hard; you had to tilt your head back to accommodate the height difference as you were still sitting, and it made it even easier for him to hold your head like they used to in those old Hollywood movies-- the ones they showed here on Thursday nights, but you weren't allowed to go because you 'didn't integrate well with the general population' or whatever.

As he kissed you, hungry but relatively reserved, it was you that took it further: carefully running your tongue over his lips, opening your mouth for him to claim, having to hold back a grin when he moaned softly against you. "Touch me," you begged him in a rare moment of reprieve from the kiss, "please-- I've wanted you to for so long--"

He groaned a little as his hand slid down to your chest, opening one button of your uniform jumpsuit; he kissed your neck as he dipped his hand inside, groping your chest underneath the fabric. Your hips naturally rocked forward in the metal chair, your deprived body desperate to be filled after almost a year of forced celibacy in this prison. "Fuck," he mumbled against your skin, tweaking a nipple between his fingers, "you know we can't-- not here--"

"I know," you purred, only barely able to reach his shoulder with your hands chained-- otherwise you'd be running your fingers through his hair, holding on to his neck, pulling him closer. "But I need you-- I don't think I've ever needed anything this much..."

He shook his head; "Me either," he admitted.

"I need to feel you inside me."

He growled, grip tightening on your breast, and you smiled proudly. "I can't just leave you here," he realized, like it was his idea. "We need to be together-- outside of this place."

"I'll go anywhere with you," you promised him.

Pulling back and looking into your eyes, he brought both his hands to your face, brushing your hair aside quickly. "If I do this for you... you have to promise me. You have to be mine."

"Can you really do that?" you wondered. "Get me out?"

"I'll find a way," he assured, "I'll do anything."

You smiled up at his determined expression, flashing your best big-wet-needy eyes at him. "Jonathan," you cooed, "I'm already yours."

[i-mmaculatus]

One's Dreams　𓏲𓂃

　𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍.

　𝖠𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 . . .

Words are, undoubtedly, a big part of our life. A famous philosopher once said that we are social by nature; which means that, even if talking isn't an option, there are other ways of communication which we ourselves created. Art is one of them, including culture.

For a long time of our dear history, fans have been used as a way to express our feelings; be it wrath, lust or envy. Feelings, to put it simply, go many ways, so why not embrace what makes you human?

　𝖧𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝖩𝗈𝗂𝗇?

Comment joining + reblog and tag as many mutuals as you'd like.

Dm me a number between 1 to 4; you'll receive a photo of a fan, describing its emotions and what color you've been assigned.

You don't need to necessarily use the png in your moodboard, but it'd be appreciated either way, be it in gifs or dividers.

No copying! Inspiration is fine. Dividers, symbols and free to use graphics by others are allowed.

Remember to use the tag 'One's Dreams: The Event'

The deadline is August 25th. If you have any questions, feel free to dm me!

　𝖯𝗋𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌

200 reblogs on mb of choice + divider set + 3 custom mbs

150 blogs on mb of choice + a png set + 2 custom mbs

100 reblogs on mb of choice + a custom mb

Honorable mentions + runner-ups get 50 reblogs on a mb of choice!

　𝖠/𝖭

ohhhahahwhwhahfbmfOH MY GOD!!! itzuh onekay ://3 im so happy i could eat a whole brick Thank u all so much for this Heh....only alpha sigmas follow me!!!! so . . . . . a thousand sigams.....How cool is it that........thank u all for the support yall show me hehehe it means sososo much (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ hope u guys enjoy this event Its not the most creativity thign but im trying ok! tt

　𝖳𝖺𝗀𝗌!

Feel free to ignore this <3

@p-oisn @jazzitos @yonkiibums @i43furi @cielitas @jicito @jimzittos @n-americano @hyelita @sugarish @jaewsss @yeonzzens @yawnznn @chwepunk @aericita @aeraras @boyishdoll @kthice @c-heriis @blushoon @awwriri @alfaire @l1nque @luvfaeri @wiotas @shuaver @poemale @cg1rl @eyuulas @hanitos @qqmariztwsse @hyetart @taroism @gigipng @tzulipss @miuhyein @goldoie @d-oie @koocita @khroem @imwonyoungs @rkkuri @crylynnluv @fre-sitas @soulari @svkurq @sleepd4rling @bambicito @cyberkatsworld @obdosant

[bakerstreethound]

Heavy is the Burden

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes x gender-neutral reader

Warnings: comfort, soft Sherlock, gentleness, pure fluff, mentions of anxiety, loneliness, panic, and sadness

Summary: After a long day of errands and classes, you finally return home seeking solace and basking in the warmth of Sherlock.

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my works to other sites. I only publish here and on A03 under the same username) 

Word Count: 765

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I know I haven't been as active writing fic as I have in the past year, but inspiration struck me a few days ago and I managed to write a little comfort story. I hope you enjoy! My summer classes start up in a few days so I hope to find time to write even then for my beloved detective. Graphic by @firefly-graphics. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Time trudges on, even when you open the door to your flat, closing the door softly, the grocery bags and your backpack hanging off of you adding to the weight of your exhaustion.

You don’t want to think about the endless list of words going through your mind, determined to overload your evening and the next before they have begun. Such is the toll of an anxious mind, always on edge waiting for something to happen, sending you into a panic.

It’s a burden you carry the push and pull thriving off chaos, with you addicted as it holds you in your clutches, your form of motivation. The notion of rest exhausts you as you set the grocery bags on the counter and your backpack on a kitchen chair. 

Methodically, with practiced ease, you assemble the groceries out of the bags and put them away by memory, your brain on autopilot.

Everything is in its place, your heart calms its rapid beats, and you take a deep breath. The same goes with your backpack as you take it to your bedroom, place your laptop on your desk, and hang the bag over the chair.

You take another breath, inhaling the fading scent of Sherlock - leather, musk, and faint cigarette ash. Your heart twinges at the thought of him, how he holds you, caresses you. It’d been a while since you had seen him between you working late and him solving cases with John.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve properly relaxed without some garish nightmare plaguing your thoughts or worrying about the best way to structure your days. 

These days your mind is both your greatest asset and enemy, causing you more than enough heartbreak for a lifetime. You take another breath and change your clothes into something more comfortable, a clean but beloved graphic tee paired with soft lounge shorts and one of the many hoodies Sherlock liked to steal and wear from you.

You inhaled, catching his scent again, only this time your eyes well with tears, the full brunt of the week hitting you in tandem. 

Despite your apprehensions, your tears fall and you cocoon yourself in a blanket wishing it were a hug instead. Your eyes close and you find yourself drifting and you let the burden slip away, falling into that lovely abyss of sleep. 

A soft gentle warmth soon encompasses you and you draw to it, a moth to a flame, nuzzling into a familiar chest, the scent of familiarity, of home enveloping you. 

“I’m here, I’m home,” he murmurs into your ear unsure if you’re completely awake, but you adore it, adore him all the same. 

You shift against him, nuzzling deeper into him and he chuckles, pulling you closer so you can hear the steady thrumming of his heart, the one he told you on quiet darkened nights that it belongs to you.

“You’re back, you came back!” You mutter softly, burying your nose into the crook of his neck and inhaling deeply, your warm cocoon of a blanket slipping from your shoulders. You don’t care for he’d returned to you and you want to shower him in kisses. 

He chuckles, stroking your back, sending shivers down your spine and you press up closer to him, basking in the simple warmth of him, not having to speak a word. He knows the mood you’re in, anxious yet somber, sad but bone-weary sadness that’s embedded deep in your body, part of your soul. 

“Shall I warm us up some soup?” he asks, his fingers threading through your hair gently, making you melt impossibly more. 

You yawn at the thought of warm soup, and the crunch of toasted bread. “Only if I make us grilled cheese to go with it.” 

“That sounds wonderful.” He smiles, the corner of his lip twitching a fraction almost revealing the full shy boyish grin you’ve come to adore, the one reserved for you. 

Carefully, he helps you to your feet ensuring you are not dizzy before taking your hand and leading you back to the kitchen. Suddenly you are grateful you grabbed extra bread and cheese at the store.

You fight off a smile as you watch Sherlock scurry around the kitchen, and you toss your eyes skyward thanking quietly the force of nature bringing the both of you together.

You do not know what you would do without him, John, and Mrs. Hudson in your life. 

You wipe away a stray tear, wrapping around behind him for a hug, your hands resting along his waist. Dinner can wait ten minutes more. 

******

[very-d1pper]

inspired by a post from @jamandjazz

How Johnny Cade, Dallas Winston, and Steve Randle are affected by their parent issues.

ok so keep in mind i havent read the book since december (i dont have my own copy) so this might be a bit wrong. im using info from my mind, the movie, the musical, tiktok, and here.

Johnny Cade

so its canon that johnny wouldve ran away if it werent for the gang (starting off strong with dally-johnny parallels OUCH)

the abuse from his parents definitely gave him a fucked up sense on what it means to feel loved

which is why johnny gets along with dally so well, i'll get into that more in dally's part

he 100% thinks that the entire world hates him except for the gang

someone said that he is so sweet its sick, not true. the abuse definitely toughened him up enough that he will be mean to strangers

he canonically is somewhat responsible (going out to the store to buy supplies and giving ponyboy a note)

im saying that because im pretty sure pony says something like twobit and someone else in the gang would forget to buy something johnny remembered

johnny learned that from having to live out on the street sometimes when his parents fought or kicked him out for multiple days

he is the living definition of forgive but never forget

he just wants a home

i personally hc that the abuse started as johnny grew older, maybe when he was 6-8 years old

which is why johnny (especially in the musical) still cares about his parents

because he remembers that they WERE good people

and he hopes to bring them back eventually

Dallas Winston

oh this man...

ran away from his problems. thats canon

his mom died when she gave birth and thats why his dad is the alcoholic deadbeat abuser he is

the abuse from his parents gave him a fucked up sense on what it means to love

which is why he can talk to johnny so well because johnny is used to the type of love dally gives

he 100% hates the world except for the gang

the abuse toughened up both johnny and dally, the thing is dally grew up with it, johnny was raised with love at first

also dally's environment in ny, that place is rough in many areas

tulsa doesnt have that, at least not on the level of ny

he's rough with everyone because thats what he learned

Steve Randle

UGH THIS MAN BRO

screw u se hinton for giving us NOTHING abt him

anyways!!

the neglect sooo fucked him up

then his dad giving physical money for forgiveness?

hell nahhh

steve definitely felt like he cannot be loved without paying someone

like with real money

which made him feel unlovable because he's like broke as fuck

soda was the first person to show him what love actually is

his mom uhh eloped to wherever after steve's birth ig idfk

steve thinks everything in the world comes with a price, even an ounce of love

i literally cant think of shit for this man rn

All Three

accidentally trauma bonding

johnny mentioned something then both steve and dally said "same"

genuinely concerning from an outsider standpoint but really funny to them

if it was modern au darry or soda wouldve sent them to therapy

one time johnny got kicked out and went to the curtis house and found steve in the kitchen

j: "kicked out?"

s: "...yeah"

j: "same."

then dally walks in

d: "bottles got thrown at me in buck's place"

j: "ptsd?"

d: "no-" *remembers he's with two people who had it happen to them* "...yeah"

j and s- "its good."

johnny convinces them to do a cuddle blob thing (the gang's done them before)

darry wakes up and see them, doesnt comment but remembers for blackmail

[lxnarphase]

do you have any advice for new writers who want to start posting on tumblr?

Oh man, I'm gonna give you a list of things I wish I could've told myself when I first started posting.

Some Basic Tips:

Don't be scared to post! You'll never see growth in your followers, mutuals, and even your writing if you don't post!

Be open to asking others for help or advice if you struggle with writing. I sometimes ask some of my mutuals for help or read fanfiction to see how others write a scene. Then, I take the knowledge and write it in my own way. For example, I do well with writing dialogue but find myself always struggling with how to start the story.

Don't be afraid to post about non-writing things, too! Remember, you deserve to have fun on your account, so post what you want. You aren't a machine. You are a person!

The number of notes you get doesn't determine your worth or skill in writing. In my opinion, Tumblr has shifted a bit, making it harder for smaller writers to get likes, reblogs, or comments on their works.

But at the end of the day, in order to enjoy being a writing blog on Tumblr, you have to enjoy what you are writing and posting. Do not feel like you have to force yourself to write just for the numbers, let it happen naturally. Things will start out slow at first, as all things do, but you'll get to a point where you can barely keep up with things.

Post and Blog Formatting + Style:

Formatting is really important! Break up paragraphs, ask a friend to be a beta reader, and for longer works, go back and proofread if you have the time! It's okay if you have minor mistakes, though. I tend to miss things in my writing, and when I return a week later, I just fix them. No big deal!

Nowadays, aesthetics is HUGE for fanfiction posts and your account. Channel your creativity and style! Make your blog super pretty in your own way! It can be pink and cutesy, black and edgy, simple and clean, or colorful and cluttered! Don't have a blank blog!

PUT YOUR AGE CLEARLY SOMEWHERE! In your bio, pinned post, SOMEWHERE IT IS EASY TO SEE. I have had writing accounts follow me but no age, so I don't feel comfortable engaging with them.

You can take inspiration from other accounts (don't outright copy, though) on how they format their fanfictions. You will probably notice a lot of accounts have headers, dividers, or colored text. You can do that too, as it can catch the readers attention.

I get headers from doujins and mangas I read, websites such as Pinterest are good for cute ones, and Twitter is your go-to for more NSFW headers.

Create a tagging system to make navigating your blog easier, and have a pinned post with links to your rules/byf/masterlist/etc.

Try to put warnings in your writing. A lot of people have filters on to avoid the types of content they don't want to see, but there are the occasional people who don't put warnings in the writing post itself. It could be a simple tag or a list of themes at the beginning of the post.

An example would be a post with the tag #dubcon #tw dubcon OR putting "cw: dubcon" in the post itself before the writing itself.

This is a tag vs. in the actual post

Tagging and Reblogs

Speaking of tags, USE THE TAGGING SYSTEM! If you don't tag your post with popular fanfiction tags, it will be hard for people to find you.

Only the first twenty tags will show up in Tumblr search, including your own blog. Reblogs will not show up in tracked tags or searches.

However, don't feel bad for reblogging your own works again. Do it as many times as you want. You created something and should feel proud of it! I still reblog things from January just because.

Making Mutuals

Don't be afraid to engage with other accounts. That's how you make friends on here! But here's something important:

Be genuine. Make mutuals because you enjoy each other's work, AND both have fun talking with each other! If someone doesn't add you back as a mutual, that is okay; don't feel like they have something against you! Making mutuals shouldn't be your only goal when posting on Tumblr. Otherwise, you might tire yourself out mentally. It took me a while to make mutuals on here, but I'm glad it did it naturally instead of trying to force it.

Asks and Anons

Once you build a following, you will get the most wonderful, loving, and supportive anons in your inbox! Cherish them, respond to them, and have fun with them! Because there is a very high chance, you will also get assholes in your inbox.

I say this from the bottom of my heart but do NOT give hateful people your attention because that is what they thrive on. I still get them, but when I tell you I am at so much peace, I block and delete the messages and carry on.

If a certain message bothers me for a bit, then I just take a little break, talk to some friends about what happened, and do what helps me calm down so I don't act rashly. Don't be afraid to turn off anonymous messages for a while. This is YOUR blog, not theirs.

Don't feel pressured to answer every ask or fulfill every request. Take your time because that can burn you out! I love socializing so much, but sometimes I just pull a blank on how to respond to my asks. I always ensure my mutuals and followers know that I'm not ignoring them and just tend to go blank-brained with some asks, OR I save some of them to look at when I'm sad!

Overall, just start and DO IT FOR YOURSELF.

That's the best advice for when you want to make anything. You just have to start posting and learning and improving as you go on. Hopefully, this will sort of help. I know it's not the best list of advice, but it's just some things I would tell myself back when I first started.

If you have any other questions, I can try my best to answer them!

[fan-goddess]

Yes sir…

Thank you @succnfuccubus for inspiring me to write this and convincing me to actually do this

Summary: After another rejection, Billy’s feeling a little down in the dumps. But after meeting with your friend that morning and looking at a unique source material, you get a very unique idea on how to hopefully cheer him up.

Authors Note: Gave the friend a name as it was just easier. I loved the idea, but I don’t like this for some reason

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie @anjelicawrites d

Warnings: Smut books, p in v sex, m oral, praise kink, power imbalance role play, role play, angst, comforting, sad boy Billy Washington, the economy, begging, cuddling (if I miss any let me know)

Billy had never been a particularly avid reader. The most he’d ever voluntarily read probably being the required reading for secondary school English. You on the other hand, even before you’d stumbled across the smut section on the internet, had always been a common bookworm.

When your friend Lya first began to lend you books from her so called private collection though, now that’s when you became a woman possessed. Soon, most of what you were reading involved some sort of dark romance filtered in. Whether that was mafia, pirate, or just a simple brother’s best friend romance. You read it all with an expressionless face.

Yet when you’d begun to date Billy, you must confess to the amusement of Lya, who you’d been borrowing books from for all these years, that you hadn’t been borrowing and reading as many of those sort of books as you used too. Since now, you had a real life romance novel in front of your very eyes to carry out. It wasn’t exactly the dream romance kids pictured after watching a Disney movie, but what sort of relationships were these days?

The last few days, you and Billy had been unable to have sex due to a sudden difference in work times. Well, your work times and Billy’s interviews. Still, whilst you were used to this happening at some random times, your pussy had taken a sudden hit with the recent dry streak. Now, you were beginning to crave one of those novels of yours in your hands again. Desperate for a new sort of fiction that’d get brain stimulated and your cunt working.

So you called the best smut dealer you knew.

“Hey bestie!” You grinned, picking at your nail while your other hand was busy holding the phone. “I need a favour…” She’d laughed when you’d asked her for a new recommendation, yet to your relief, you and her had managed to agree to a meet up the next day to, exchange the goods.

The morning you were supposed to leave, you remember kissing Billy goodbye as your adorable half asleep boyfriend was still laying in bed all cosy and pretty. “Where are you going?” He’d grumbled, so cute with a small tired pout on his face that it almost made you want to strip back down to nothing and pounce on him there and then. The lack of sex it seemed was really getting to you right now.

“Visiting one of my friends for a morning drink. Nothing much baby. Remember though you’ve got that interview at 3, so don’t forget!” You smiled, giving him another deep kiss before you go that left Billy’s cheeks flushed from bashfulness. He’s so effortlessly fucking sexy it was utterly unreal…

When you got to the cafe you’d planned to meet Lya at, she eagerly waved at you from a discreet corner of the room. She may be honest as hell about what she reads, but she sure as hell knows how to act like a fucking dealer about it.

“Hello darling!” You smile, moving so you could give her a quick hug before sitting opposite her. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright thanks babes! Stocking up on my little novel collection, which reminds me!” She gives you a mischievous smile, and from her bag produced a book with quite a different cover than what you thought it’d be. As she places in front of you what looks to be a copy of great expectations.

“Think you’ve mixed up the books Lya!” You laugh, giggling in amusement when you see her look at you with such disappointment.

“Course I haven’t idiot!” She sighs, moving to grab the book and remove the book cover, before showing you the back of it. Where much to your surprise, you find the blurb for a very different book. Called ‘Unbuttoning the CEO’. “I read it last week and thought it’d be perfect for you!”

You laugh at the title and place the secret cover back on, before placing it in your bag. You don’t bring the book up again the rest of the catch up convo, but at the end when the two of you have eaten your cakes, drunk your coffees and were saying your goodbyes, you made sure to let Lya know what you thought of the book when you read it.

When you get back home, you head to the bedroom first to see if Billy’s back or not. The bed you can see is unmade and ruffled, yet when you feel it you can tell it’s cold to the touch, telling you Billy left a while a go. You head to the living room and sit on the sofa with a small sigh, praying Billy didn’t decide to head to the pub before a job interview.

You’re still for a couple minutes trying to think of what to do to occupy your time while you wait for Billy, and your eyes can’t help but be drawn to your bag, where the book practically taunts you from inside it. Before you even know it, you’re curled up on the sofa with the book in your hand and your lip between your teeth.

Words blur as you read sentence after sentence, but your eyes certainly eagerly tune in when you get to the actual sex part, which wasn’t even very far in to be honest.

The ceo takes the assistant on his desk, and you can’t help but clench your legs together when you read about how later on the assistant helps the CEO to ‘destress’. You take a small break to make yourself a quick drink, and can’t help but find your mind drifting to the idea of you and Billy in those scenes, playing those characters. You can’t help but forget about even making any sort of drink as you imagine exactly how you could help Billy destress from the recent unfair influx of job rejections.

You eagerly get back to reading though, and by the time Billy comes back home around 5, stinking slightly of cheap lager, you’ve already finished the book twice and reread your favourite scenes about three times over.

“Hey baby!” You smile, making note on how Billy nuzzles his body into yours as much as he can as soon as he gets close enough. Your pretty little teddy bear… “How’d it go?”

“Said I weren’t what they were looking for…” He murmurs into the length of your neck, as you kiss the top of his head softly. “Another fucking failure to add to the list…”

“Don’t say that!” You firmly say, placing both your hands on the side of his face to force his eyes to meet yours. You hate the way he looks so broken in that moment. So beaten by the world that all you want to do in that moment is wrap your arms around him and keep him safe from everything and everyone. The assholes who hurt him hurt him good and deep, and if you could, you’d beat them to death yourself. Maybe even with your porn book that’d be a right sight you must admit… “You are fucking amazing! You’re my favourite person in the whole world and I will not have you bring yourself down! Do you understand me Billy Washington?”

He gulps, and for a second you swear you can see tears build up in his eyes before they’re quickly blinked away.

“I-I underhand darling. Thank you, for being there for me. For everything.” He says, before bringing you in for a hug. Practically crushing you with how hard his arms lock around your waist and his head stays tucked in the skin of your neck.

The two of you stay there for what feels like hours. Holding each other while the time goes by. The only reason the two of you even break away from each other is because your phone rings so loudly all of a sudden and shocks the two of you into remembering the situation at hand. You quickly move to switch your phone on silent, and yet your eyes somehow manage to drift to the book peeking out from behind a sofa cushion, and an idea makes it way through your mind.

“Hey Billy…” You begin, smirking when you see Billy’s usual shy persona breaking through his shell once more when he sees that smile of yours. “I wanna try something tonight…”

“What is it?” He asks, raising a brow and stepping back slightly when he sees the grin on your face.

“Just something I read recently. Wanna see how you’ll like it…” You purr, placing your hands on his shoulders and dragging him to the edge of the sofa, before pushing him slightly so he falls backwards with a small gasp. His eyes open wide as they stare at you with such awe and admiration that you can’t help but find yourself blushing slightly.

You slowly lower yourself between Billy’s legs, which seem to open as wide as they can automatically, and with innocent fluttering eyes, lay your head on the side on his leg.

“Can I please suck your cock sir?” You beg, a pout on your lips to mimic pure desperation as Billy practically seems to have a heart attack above you. He appears breathless as you spring this sudden fantasy upon him, and yet by the way you can see and feel his trousers move and strain with his quickly swelling cock, you can tell with certainty that he definitely seems to be enjoying this.

“Yes…” He eventually murmurs with a heavy breath. “You can suck my cock….”

“Thank you sir, I promise I won’t let you down!” You smile, moving your hands to undo his belt and shimmy down his trousers and his underwear. When Billy is left sitting naked before you, as he’d claimed to feel silly if he was sitting in just his shirt, you can’t even stop yourself from admiring your boyfriends erect cock that stands proudly before your face.

“Such a pretty cock sir…” You murmur, before opening your mouth and taking it in your mouth as far as you can before your nose hits the small soft patch of hair lying at the base of Billy’s cock.

You can hear him keen and whine above you, and you’re very sad you can’t see the way his eyes no doubt roll to the back of his head. You slowly move your head back and forth, keeping a steady pace that leaves Billy practically shaking and whining above you.

“Please….” You hear him beg. A noise you love more than anything, and yet at this moment it’s not what you want. You want him to feel in control for once. To know how much you worship him and adore him. To know that he has the ability to make you become so needy and desperate for him that you’ll do anything to please him. That is, with the right words of course.

“Please darling!” He continues, his whimpering so delightful to your ears that you almost throw your plan out the window so you could give him as many earth shattering orgasms as he deserves. But patience is a virtue, so you continue to suck at Billy’s cock in a leisurely pace. Drawing all sorts of noises from him that leaves your own lower half aching for a release.

“Take control of me Billy…” You eventually say, admittedly growing tired of the lack of communication between the both of you. “Take hold of me and do whatever you want to me sir…”

It seems your words finally made it into his pretty little head. Since as soon as you try and go back to putting your mouth on him after saying those words to him, you feel a strong hand wrap itself between the strands of your hair, atopping you from getting anymore closer to his cock than what you already are. It makes your pussy admittedly wetter as you’re now effectively eye level with Billy’s weeping member, and yet am unable to touch it at all. Forced to stare at it while it weeps a single drop his precum and watch while it trails down his erection. It’s absolute fucking torture.

“Please sir!” You find yourself begging, an actual pout on your lips as desperation claws up your whole body. “I wanna make you feel good sir! Wanna warm your cock in my mouth and feel your cum trickling down my throat!”

You can feel the grip his hands have on your hair tighten, and before you know it, Billy’s cock is hitting the back of your throat and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as your used like a pathetic fuck toy. You let your body go limp as you allow Billy to use you however he decides, yet he doesn’t seem to exactly have that part figured out yet, as he focuses on moaning and groaning about you like a porn star while he uses you to his current hearts content.

For a while, you almost find yourself unable to breathe. Gasping for air whenever the opportunity appeared. Yet still, you persist in your willingness, eager to see the usually so submissive man in front of you break.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He groans, moaning as he further tightens his grip on you and forces you to work harder and faster on his cock. You moan wantonly and work your tongue harder as you feel his tip become drenched in a delicious mixture of both your spit and his precum, and feel his entire length throb under the weight of your efforts. It’s actually quite flattering really, seeing how fast he’s about to cum from your suggestions.

“Fuuuuuuck please swallow baby please please please!” He whines, that inner submissive of his still lingering as he holds your head down firmly on his cock while you feel his cum shoot down to the back of your throat, and practically choke you with how much you feel quickly filling your mouth. You cough slightly as you try and obey Billy by swallowing what you can, yet you can’t help but have a few drops of his essence flow down your cheek as you struggle swallowing the first few drops.

“Here you go baby…” Billy murmurs, using his fingers to pick up the stray dribbles and put them in front of your lips. Admittedly you feel quite bashful as you avoid his eyes while sucking the remaining taste of him off his fingers, but as soon as you finish, those same now spit covered fingers rest under your chin and force your head up so your eyes can meet.

A silent gasp releases under your breath as you see an uncharacteristic carefree yet somehow cocky smile on Billy’s face. That submissive man you saw not even five minutes ago gone as this new, changed man sits before you. Like some sort of strange sexual butterfly.

“You were a good girl for me.” He simply says, allowing you to bask in the feeling of his dominance that makes your legs weak at the knees. “And good girls if I’m right, get rewarded. You taught me that pretty girl. So please, get naked, and get on the bed for me arse up, so I can reward you for being so good for me.”

Fuck you’ve made a monster. A sexy one yes, but still a sexually dominant monster.

You do as Billy says to a T. Stripping yourself quickly so that your clothes are all over the bedroom floor, and placing your body on the bed in Billy’s desired position. You wait with bated breath for what feels like hours while your skin erupts in a multitude of goosebumps, and you swear you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel Billy’s warm skin suddenly against yours. You feel his half hard cock rubbing almost pitifully against your arse, and you realise with a very sick thrill that you can actually feel him getting harder the more your juices seem to coat him.

It seems though you were so caught up in your thoughts, that you miss the sounds of Billy’s own clumsy movements of stripping.

“So pretty…” He groans. A beautiful sound that leaves you wanting more more and more. How greedy of you… “You want to be fucked by me don’t you? By your boss?”

“Yes sir!” You whine, your head going dull as you stay focused only Billy’s body and nothing else. On the way he makes you feel so effortlessly, and without meaning. “Want you to make me yours! Want me to make sure everyone knows I only belong to you!”

You can hear Billy deeply grunt behind you, and with a gasp you don’t even at first realise belong to you, you feel Billy thrust his cock deep inside you. An intense feeling of fullness hitting you as you close your eyes and grip your hands desperately at the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself.

He gratefully allows you to get used to the sudden intrusion, but before you know it, Billy is quickly thrusting himself quickly in and out of you while you moan and keen for more beneath him. Your eyes screwing shut as your lower belly slowly tightens harder and harder.

“So good!” He groans, unexpectedly yet cautiously smacking your backside with his palm that causes an absolute pathetic sound to leave your lips. “My sweet little slut. All mine to fuck!”

An abundance of yeses comes quickly and brainlessly as you answer Billy’s statement with a high pitched moan. All you want right now is to cum. And by the way you can feel your cunt clenching and fluttering hard around Billy’s cock, you can guess it won’t be long before you do.

“Fuck sir I wanna cum please let me cum for you sir I’ve been so good!” You whine, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as Billy somehow manages to move himself faster against you. The sound of his skin smacking at such a fast pace against your own to your ears sounding like an erotic symphony.

“Yes… you have been good…” Billy groans. His voice so strained it’s as if he’s struggling with all his strength to say them. “So you’ll continue to be good… by taking my fucking cum in your perfect cunt!”

You take that as your queue, and with a loud unwavering yell, you cum hard around Billy’s cock. Coaxing forth his own orgasm as he clutches hard at your skin and pushes himself as deep as he can to you. Moaning as you focus on the feeling of his hot cum filling you.

You can also feel his pubic hair stimulating your swollen clit, which leaves you silently gasping against the mattress and your aching pussy clenching against Billy’s softening cock.

The two of you stay where you are as you allow each other to breathe and calm down, yet it’s not long before the two of you are cuddling under the bed covers, with Billy’s cock still inside you.

“Did you like that baby?” You can’t help but murmur. Anxious on whether Billy was happy over you pushing him out of his usual comfort zone.

“It was different…” He summarises. You cannot see his face to make any assumptions. Given that your man has gone back to his roots by putting his head in the curve of your neck. “But I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

You may not be able to see it, but even so, your ego swells massively when you realise you can feel Billy’s bashful smile against your skin. It almost makes you want to have your wicked way with him again. That is though, before you realise with a warm feeling chest that Billy has steadily fallen asleep against you. With his softened cock still inside you, and your arms wrapped firmly around his body ensuring his safety.

“Sleep baby…” You murmur, kissing the top of his head with a smile. “You were such a good boy for me baby… we’ll see about rewarding you later….”

You may have imagined it, but you swear you can feel Billy smile against your skin. Yet you push the thought away and instead choose to close your eyes, and allow your own exhaustion to overcome you. You and Billy’s breaths and hearts synching as you hold each other with as much love as a sleeping person could handle.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

”If I could draw I’d draw fanarts!”

“If I could draw I’d draw my OCs”

“If I could paint I’d paint all the ideas in my head and become rich!”

If I could draw and paint I would completely erase this portrait of J.K Rowling in a book from my childhood, and draw a picture of Imane Khelif there instead.

This is my copy and it’s in Swedish, btw.

The original title of this book is Good Night Stories For Rebel Girls 2. It’s the second book out of two. This is the first one.

These two books were my childhood. Do you have any idea how empowering it is for a young girl like me, feeling alone in a world that seems to become crueller by the day, a girl who feels unheard by adults, to read these kind of books? I have plenty other books like these, too! These were my two favourites.

Two books filled with strong, powerful and cool women who have changed the world in one way or another! Reading these books inspired me so, so much as a little girl. I couldn’t get enough of these two-page stories about women who were brave and stood up for what was right. Women from so many different countries and backgrounds. It was beautiful. These books were how I found out about most of my biggest idols today: Malala Yousafzai, Greta Thunberg, Anne Frank, Emma Watson etc.

As I said, these books are my childhood. Another series of books that played a huge part of my childhood are the Harry Potter books.

As a little kid, I had no idea about who Joanne truly was. All I knew was that she was an author, and I dreamed about becoming an author one day. And Joanne had written one of my favourite series of all time. Of course I looked up to her! I especially remember looking at the drawing of her in Good Night Stories For Rebel Girls 2, admiring it very much.

I have grown up. I still love Harry Potter, the series played a massive role in my childhood and it’s been there to comfort me in my hardest times. But I do not support the author, now that I’ve heard about and read the tweets she has made about trans women. It’s disgusting, what she’s said about trans women in the past, what she still says, and what she’s tweeted about Imane Khelif recently… I’ve knows for years now what she’s all about.

It hurts, you know. As a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, it hurts to know that the series I love so dearly, the series that always makes me feel better, is written by a person who has no respect whatsoever towards half of my friend group and other trans people. None. She is a horrible human being, and it hurts to know that.

Knowing that her face, her name and her story is written in yet another book in my bookshelf, that her presence is constant in my room, makes me sick to my stomach and has done so for a long time now. Ever since I remembered a while back that she’s in this book, this wonderful book about women who have made the world a better place and continue fighting daily, women I look up to so much… I’ve had this sick feeling in my stomach, because she does not belong in this book. She isn’t a feminist. She excludes trans women from womanhood and accuses cis women of being trans or intersex based on their strength and talent in sports. Based on a supposed high level of testosterone? Joanne is cruel, and she’s rude, and she is not a person kids should be taught to look up to. Not after all she’s done.

Earlier today, I was thinking about this again. And as so many times before, I wished that I myself was a talented artist. This is something I’ve thought about before, but for different reasons. I’ve always wished I could draw portraits and pretty paintings. Fanarts for my favourite ships that I can only picture in my head but not transfer to paper. I’ve always loved drawing, but I’ve never been too good at it. Now I desperately wish that I was.

Because if I was a talented artist, I would grab my pens and paint and brushes, and I would cover up the portrait of J. K Rowling in my book. I would make a whole new portrait in its place, a portrait of another woman I look up to, a strong and beautiful and brave woman. A women called Imane Khelif.

And I’d get rid of the page full of facts and stories about Rowling, I’d tear it apart and throw it away and replace it with the story of Imane Khelif, the one woman Rowling cannot tolerate because of her talent for boxing. I can write. I can’t draw, but I can write. I so wish I could do both right now, because if I truly could trust myself with fully remaking two book pages, I would do it without hesitation.

Imane Khelif’s story deserves to be told. J.K Rowling’s story deserves to be told with seriousness, and grief because of what she has become. This woman could have been a successful author and a beloved feminist, and she could have left it at that. Sadly, she chose a path of hatred and cyber bullying. She chose this journey for herself, and I am sorry for everyone who got their childhood ruined because of it. Heck, I’m sorry for her even, but I still know in my heart that she has no excuses for what she has done. I despise her.

Kids need to be warned about TERFs, not trans women.

Collage made by @thingsmk1120sayz (I will delete it immediately if you ask me to, love <3)

I stand by Imane Khelif. I stand by the girls who grew up to be strong and wonderful women, the women who made their childhood dreams reality and won medals in the Olympics, the women who became successful artists, the women who reached their goals and ended up writing bestseller books loved by generations.

I stand by them, and I love them. But I feel nothing but hatred and pity towards J. K Rowling. Fuck her twisted beliefs. Much love to Imane Khelif!

Edit: I would like to clarify, Good Night Stories For Rebel Girls 2 was released 2017. I have no idea when Joanne started spreading her transphobic views on social media. Feel free to educate me on reblogs and comments! Anyways, I don’t think that the authors of this book, Elena Favilli and Francesca Cavallo, meant to cause any harm by putting Rowling in their book. Either this was before Rowling started tweeting transphobic things, or the authors didn’t know about her being a TERF (I doubt the latter). So please don’t send any hate to these wonderful authors! If you want to send them questions regarding their books, I’m pretty sure you’re free to do so! xx

[itsnothingofinterest]

Any predictions for the next chapter, or from this wrap up in general?

I’m gonna be honest; with Shigaraki dead, who knows how many of the League with him or soon to follow, and most of Class 1A ending their arcs as a disappointing collective carbon copy of the last generation, I’m not too interested. And that may hinder my ability to predict what little we have left, let alone to any enjoyable capacity.

The only real prediction I can make is about how the wrap up will take every implication or consequence of the kids’ failure to save or change and…continue to ignore them, brush them under the rug that is this feeling of how much the ‘day has been saved’ we’re being given.

I’m talking zero mention of corruption in the hero industry, no talk about the folks heroes aren’t around to save despite inspiring complacency & dependency, nothing to make us think villains won’t be treated worse after how Twice, Machia, and Shigaraki were treated, and you better believe they won’t bring up the Singularity Doomsday.

(Or, potentially more infuriatingly if it’s done poorly*, they actually will bring up some of the League’s old talking points…most of which no one on the heroes side have ever been shown caring about and weren’t really brought up in the final arc at all…and it’s all to talk about how they’re handling it the right way tm, which we learn is super easy for them. Turns out Shoji really can solve all of quirks racism by just being super inspiring at bigots, maybe with some finger wagging at them if he’s feeling daring**; don’t know why Spinner’s mob thought they needed to riot like that. And Shoto just made a few calls, gave a speech maybe, and now heroes abusing their power and/or families is a thing of the past; sure makes the lengths Touya went to seem silly.

Ugh, I’m getting a migraine just typing that out.)

And it’ll all end with future Deku saving some kid lost in the streets like Tenko Shimura, and we’ll be asked to just pretend that means every kid like Tenko Shimura gets saved from now on…even though that’s not how his backstory or criticism of the system worked at all. Remember: ‘the day is saved, so don’t think about it too hard.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Which I expect it would be.

**Which he will not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If, after seeing me say that I don't want an ending where they do nothing but also don't want an ending where they do everything, you're wondering what ending I'd be satisfied with…I honestly couldn't tell you.

I should want an ending where they change and improve things; but after spending a sizable fraction of MHA's total length effectively fighting against change and improvement because it was villains trying to shepherd it in while the heroes were always talking about rebuilding it all back to normal to the very end (including just last chapter), I don't know how Hori could pull that off without it feeling like bad writing. And unless that writing gets bad enough for Tomura to return from dust, I don’t much care for that idea either.

[exorcqism]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; choso’s mind has been spiraling for a couple days now. the fact that you wrote your phone number down on his hand had him going. he wanted to call you. he wanted to text you. but he just couldn’t. in order to be sanitary, he’d write the number down again on a sticky note and scrubbed the ink off his skin. he didn’t have time for a lover…but he felt like making time for you.

₊❏❜ ⋮ part one ⌒

. ݁ ࣪ ، ⌗ masterlist

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.33K

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; idk how long this story will stretch but if ya like it,, i’ll make more parts to it. not too many though. i wanna get to geto too (as promised). hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D (also lmk if you wanna be tagged for possible upcoming parts if i decide to continue)

another note: i finally made a masterlist. that shit took me 5 HOURS to make because i was fixing and adding so much stuff. i just wanted it to be pretty. ya should go look at it :P and should i make a AO3??? i see so many writers with them and i was wondering if i should do that too..

final note: guys,, remember this is my personal twist on the mid 90’s era so some things from current time will be put into the story (such as the ability to text without emailing one another or using a pager, familiar current time songs that are added into the 90’s era of this story, certain tv shows/movies that came after the 90’s)

₊❏❜ ⋮ continue to part three ⌒

“choso, we should make the house look like a haunted house!” itadori suggests. october was the season of spooks and scares (as yuji put it) and choso wasn’t into festivities that much but if he had to do it to make his little brother happy, he would do it.

the boys make their way to the nearby department store, letting yuji pick out what decorations should be put up in the house. for a little boy, choso didn’t even even pick up how significantly scary the items were because yuji wasn’t shitting himself out of fear.

“uh…yuji, i know you said you wanted the place to look like a haunted house…are you sure you won’t freak yourself out and start crying?” choso said, stifling his laughter.

“i’m not gonna cry.” yuji crossed his arms. “and i’m not scared of some dumb clowns. they’re just decorations, anyway.”

yuji was more mature than he looked…in the aspect of fear. he was a small boy but things didn’t scare him easily. you could say he’s a risk taker outside his moments of vulnerability. choso knew that he’d might jump back behind him, tightly holding the hem his tan sweater if he saw kechizu. the male finally smiles at the pink haired boy and nods.

“you’re right. they’re fake.” choso says calmly.

as they approach the checkout area, yuji sees the food area. serving simple things like pizza, hotdogs and drinks. the stuff you’d find at a concession stand of a sports game.

“can we get a pizza?” yuji asked. choso paused. he didn’t intend on spending 13 dollars on food from a department store. he had other plans anyway.

“you sure you want that? i was gonna get you a happy meal before we went home.” the male yawned, threading his fingers through his hair. the sudden mention of a happy meal excites yuji like a child on christmas morning.

“never mind, i don’t want pizza.” itadori quickly switches. choso chuckled, knowing how easy it was to get yuji to think about his choices.

“aw, cute kid,” choso heard a voice behind him. the male whipped his head around, his brown hair following along with him, only to see you standing there with a smile.

“is this your little brother?”

choso flushed a red color when he instantly remembered your face, almost making him feel bad for not calling you or texting you since you dropped off your number to him. he was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“uh..yeah, that’s—this is yuji.” he stumbles a bit, trying not to make his embarrassment known. itadori already knows the deal, so he waves at you with a big toothy grin, making you smile and wave back at him.

“um..what’re you doing here?” choso queried, trying to spark a conversation first for once. the male was obviously nervous and you could see his cheeks reddening the more he looked at you. if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he would explode right in front of your eyes.

“shopping, like everyone else,” you teased. “but really, i just gotta pick some stuff up for my mom and then i’ll be on my way.”

your eyes travel over to the shopping cart that yuji was clinging onto, looking at the halloweeny decorations and you smile.

“you don’t seem like the type to be into holidays really,” you start, “did your brother convince you?”

choso also looked at the shopping cart full of stuff and blushed even harder. he was already flustered enough. it couldn’t get any worse than this.

“oh—no..he didn’t,” he chuckled nervously, “i actually really like halloween. the scary shit—stuff…you know, the movies? they’re cool.”

you giggled at choso’s nervous attempts to speak to you about the festivities that he almost never participated in and the quick fix with his mistake of swearing in front of yuji like he wasn’t there.

“oh, so you like horror movies? yeah, you strike me as that kind of guy.” you said. you couldn’t help but notice his medium length hair, just like you had seen the other night when he was working, flowing in the wind that came through as the store doors slowly slid themselves open as customers exited the building.

the male wore an oversized tan sweater with a pair of joggers and some sneakers. you could tell this was a lazy outfit. something you’d call a ‘no one will see me’ outfit.

his eyes were tired and he had a stoic expression, aside from his profuse blushing that began to die down when he finally got the chance to relax, having his hands shoved down into his pant pockets. his irises were so pretty. a pretty shade of purple. you never seen anyone’s eyes look like his before.

the silence prolonged for a moment. the two of you suddenly ran out of things to say. this was perfectly fine for choso. he would’ve lost his mind if he had to keep talking. it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy talking to you. he was just too scared.

but it wasn’t long before that silence was disturbed.

“my big brother really likes you. he thinks you’re pre—” itadori starts before choso swiftly covers his mouth with his significantly larger hand, making you giggle once more.

“i’m sorry about that…yuji just likes to say random stuff when the silence is too loud for him.” choso said trying to cover up his embarrassment.

“it’s okay,” you smiled at him. your words seemed to ease his nerves a bit but it wasn’t enough to completely calm him down. you glance down at your phone when you feel it vibrate against your thigh.

it’s your mom texting you, asking if you’re on your way back.

“oh, sh—shoot,” you say, quickly fixing your mistake before you actually said it. “i gotta go. my mom just texted.”

choso is quickly snapped out of his embarrassment trance and his head swings over to look at you, his hair following along.

“you’re going?” he asked. through his dead and serious expression, you could see a hint of sadness. a very small change in his usual expression. you nod.

“yeah. but listen, you should call me. you don’t have my number just to stare at it.” you remarked before hurrying off, waving at him as you did.

once you were out of his sight, his eyes quickly struck down to yuji. he looked like he wanted to scold the poor boy for publicly embarrassing him in front of you but he decided against it and his expression softened.

“let’s just get home…” the male sighed.

choso was happy it’s his day off. he got to stay home with his little brother to help decorate their home with terrifying decorations for halloween. choso couldn’t help but smile at yuji’s futile attempts to scare him with the masks from the store.

“come on, you aren’t even a little scared?” yuji removed the mask from his face and shook his head to fix his hair, which was flattened and sticking to his forehead.

“not even in the slightest.” choso chuckled before ruffling itadori’s hair lightly. “what about your friends? you try to scare them yet?”

“megumi is almost never impressed. he’s kinda lame….and out of the question.” yuji hummed. “but i can get nobara. she’s always screaming.”

“well, you can do that tomorrow,” choso yawned, “you gotta get ready for bed soon. you got school in the morning and i don’t want you to be tired and falling asleep in class.”

yuji frowned before he’d hug choso. it took a moment for choso to process the moment, given that he wasn’t too used to being hugged. choso finally hugged the boy back before smiling softly.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

yuji nodded and smiled back at his older brother before making his way to his room.

when yuji had finally gone to sleep, the house was quiet, leaving choso staring at the ceiling with his hair in disarray and an unlit cigarette between his lips all while he laid on the bed, doing maladaptive night dreaming.

‘workin out’ by JID played softly from the small radio that sat on the windowsill. his eyes slowly traveled over to the shoe box that stood out from all the other boxes in his closet. there was a bright yellow sticky note at the top with what seemed to have your phone number on it along with your name.

the male sat up on the bed and walked over to the box, snatching the sticky note from the box then walking over to his laptop that sat on the umber colored desk.

choso opened the laptop and navigated to the facetime app and decided to punch in your number. he could feel his stomach turning as the low adverb jingling sound repeated itself.

while he waited for you to answer, he’d take one of the rubber bands off of his wrist and tie his hair back, leaving his bangs to hang down in his face. he even took the time to fix the violet eyeshadow that he always had around his eyes, staining his fingers each time he touched around his eyelids. and finally, he’d press down on the bandage over his nose to make sure it was still sticking.

you suddenly pick up, finally answering choso’s call. your room was a bit dark like his, except you had your tv going on in the background. it was loud enough for choso to be able to hear.

unlike choso, you were sitting on your bed with your laptop. you had your hair tied up in twin messy buns with a little bit of your hair hanging down in your face. you wore a black spaghetti strap tank top, revealing the tattoo on your shoulder, and a pair of grey joggers with mismatch socks.

“i honestly did not hear this thing going off,” you giggled as you pushed the hair out of your face. you had been downstairs grabbing yourself a drink while choso was calling. “i’m sorry i didn’t answer right away, though.”

“oh..no, it’s fine. you aren’t busy are you?”

“no, not really. i was thinking about finishing this show i was watching. have you heard of american horror story?”

“yeah, i heard of it. i just never got around to watching it. i’d rather watch movies than an ongoing series.” choso explained simply before he’d light his cigarette. you nod, completely understanding his side.

“shit, well, what movies do you recommend? horror movies, since we’re in spooky season.” you flash a cheeky smile at him. choso’s heart skips a beat when you finally ask him what he’s interested in. he pauses and begins thinking, taking drags from his cigarette.

“there’s one movie, i can’t tell you all of em off the top of my head,” he begins, “watch midsommar. it’s kinda disturbing but you might like it.”

“is it gory horror or..?” you ask before taking a sip of your drink as you began to type in the movie name into the search bar in another tab, scrolling through websites to catch any good details about said movie.

“you’ll have to see for yourself,” choso places two of his digits around the cigarette, gently adjusting it between his lips before it could slip out. you realize the longer you talked to him, the more comfortable he seemed to be but you could still see that he was nervous.

“maybe we can see about it together,” you suggest to the male. “whenever you’re free, of course.” you add quickly. all of a sudden, choso is blushing just as he did at the store earlier that day. you thought it was kinda adorable how he could look so disinterested to suddenly flustered and scared so quickly.

“i—well..” choso stammered, “yeah, sure…uh, we can watch tomorrow night when i put my little brother to bed. i don’t want him interrupting anything.”

you giggled, “aw, he’s so cute, though. but i get it. little kids can get in the way of a lot of stuff.”

the two of you conversed for what felt like hours. your voice was soothing to choso. each time you began to speak, he just imagined you calling his name…just once.

your call with choso ended around three in the morning, and your cheeks were pink, smiling to yourself as you remembered the random conversations that you two had not too long ago.

you hadn’t felt like this about a guy in a long time. while men were usually throwing themselves at you, choso was clearly the odd one out. he was a bit shy but assertive and smart.

choso’s voice was deep as it came from the depths of the ocean but his words flowed smoothly like butter when he wasn’t tripping and fumbling with his words trying to hide his embarrassment.

his style, his personality, the way he looked. in your eyes he was perfect but there were a million things stopping you from telling him you loved him.

what if he has a girlfriend already? what if he isn’t ready for a relationship? what if he doesn’t want one? he probably just wants to be friends.

aside from all those thoughts clogging your brain, you were aware that you’d be moving to fast by throwing that L word around loosely when you just met him a couple days ago.

“damn it.” choso sighed to himself.

‘you’re falling for her…but you don’t have time for her. what’re you doing?’ choso was beating himself up about the whole entire situation. another cigarette is taken out of the pack and lightened as he tried to calm his anxiety and spiraling thoughts.

he was going crazy. he didn’t know what he would do. he wanted you out of his head. he was starting to feel stupid for letting you swoon him as easily as you did at the bar.

part of him wished he never met you…

but he needed more of you.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

© EXORSIIAN | © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[vulpixisananimal]

(Odile)

(Well at least they're not dead.)

(After scaring Siffrin and Isabeau half to death and guiding them home, you were off again for your next errand. Gems, you were hoping to relax for a day, but it looks like that wasn't to happen.)

(Ah libraries, where would you be without them.)

(Todays subject, the Monets. A the Inn, you didn't have many resources at your disposal. There were a few books writen by the Monets there, and you could get some information from that. But now that you were in a city with a library? It was time for research.)

(It was a sizeable two story library, with a desk up front with a librarian there. You walked up to them.) "Good afternoon."

"Good after- o-oh-!" (The librarian perked up.)

"Yes, yes, savior of Vaugarde. Please, just call me Odile."

"Oh well, good to meet you Odile! Anything I can help you find?"

"Yes, actually. Do you have books from the Monets? Or better yet, about them?"

"Don't even need to look that up." (The librarian chuckled.) "Historical section, the Monets actually live in Wolworth so they donate copies to the library."

"How kind of them." (You say as convincingly as you could.) "Thank you, but is that all?"

"Well. . ." (The librarian ducked down bellow the counter and came up with a book.) "Feel free to look through the library catalog, might take a while though."

"May I take it with me into the library?"

"Usualy I'd say no, buuuut you saved the country so sure!"

"Ha! Thank you, I'll bring it back in one piece."

(You make your way to the history section; two whole rows there were taken up by the Monets books. You select a few of them to peruse. "The Ychian Forgotten Legends." "Body Craft in Poteria; A history." "Curiosities of the Darkless Throne." All quite dramatic titles. You take the books, and the catalog, to a table.)

(You look at the little bios of the writers, printed at the back. Merlon Monet and Percival Monet. Doesnt say where they're from. Doesn't say who they were. Just that they're a bonded couple traveling the world searching for truth. Gems. . .)

(You could read through the books, but you already read some of their books, it would be wasting time. So what about the catalog? You open it up, looking up by author name; Monets.)

(History books, from all over the world. From the tallest mountain in Tour'bach, to the depths of the Mala'ka reefs. You found books reaching back to four, five years ago before they abruptly stopped. Hmm, usualy writers have some smaller, less ambitious books as their first few publications, but you didn't see any here.)

(Then what was the first book they published? Five years ago, and the only book listing just Perci as the author. And the title, well, it certainly caught your eye.)

("The Monet Family; When ego overtakes devotion.")

(You're sure you would have caught something with such a commedicly obvious title while looking through the Histories. You get up, then, and look through biographys instead. Nothing. You go to the front desk to ask where it could be.)

"By the looks of it, someone checked it out." (The Librarian was looking through book rental records.) "One. . . D.D.W.D."

(A bust. The librarian didn't even remember who this person looked like. Gems alive. . . But, that is a lead. Back to the catalog.)

(Last name, D. Look for last name D, first name D, middle names D.W. . . You had a theory, and. . . If you were right. . . Aha!)

(History section, a handful of booklets, written by "Daniel D.W. De'Worde." Ha, cute. You get up and look for one of the booklets.)

(Daniel D.W. De'Worde. You knew that last name easily, it was William De'Worde. The couragous journalist in the fantasy book "The Truth." Editor for the Ankh-Morpork Times. The spitting image of someone who cares about the truth. Ha!)

(You grabbed one of the booklets and walked back. So, who is this Daniel D, then? Daniel D, DD. . . Who would have some personality similar to William De'Worde, inspire some level of. . . Hmm. . . .)

(You sit down and lean back, closing your eyes. Do the Siffrin thing, breathe in. . . and out. . .)

(You felt paper run over your fingers, a grand, never ending library of information. Book covers, names, Daniel D. . . No, not a real persons name. . . A book? No, not that, you walk, drift, hand tracing the covers of books. You pull one. It was covered in a soft darkless cloth. Siffrin, who leads to acting, to plays, and plays have characters. The characters Siffrin likes, you like, and it's. . .)

". . . So, it's all about trickery to you?" (You mumble the lines to yourself.) "Daniel Dankovsky."

(Daniel Dankovsky of the play "Pathologic." A story of a town suffering from a plague. Dankovsky is one of our protagonists, an idiot, but smart. Someone who means well, but fails at every step. Gems. . .)

(Perci Monet, you have some interesting heros.)

(You look at the title of the booklet. "Stories of Uldarmitch." A collection of histories and tales from a small town past Mwudu. Some of them were quite interesting; Daily life, history, tall tales. But one thing that you do note, is that the author was very dramatic. Familiarly dramatic. You chuckle, gems, and he couldn't have come up with any better pseudonym?)

(You hear someone talking at the front desk, oh whatever. You're just an old lady who likes history. So, Nine, ten years ago, Perci was publishing smaller books under the pseudonym Daniel D.W. De'Worde. Around eight years ago, he stopped. And then five years ago, he and Merlon traveled together and published history.

(. . . So, Perci, what did you do in that three year break?)

"Well, it was closer to four years."

(You look up, Perci Monet was standing a few feet away from the table you sat at. You glare at him.)

". . . May I sit down?" (He gestures to a chair out of arms reach from you.)

"Fine." (You put your pen down.)

(Perci sits.) "Enjoying my work, Madame?"

"I can admit good writing when I see it." (You hold up a hand and make a face.) "But really, Daniel Dankovsky William De'Worde? Of all things?"

"Aha. . . I-It was, quite the phase I will admit." (He rubbed his neck.) "One I am very much over, thank you!"

"You will not live this down." (You look back down at your notes.) ". . . What are you doing here, anyways."

". . . Funnily enough, I needed a distraction."

"Ha!" (You glance at him.) "You can't escape the saviors no matter where you go, it seems."

"Hahaaa. . . No, I can't."

"Mmhm." (You look over your notes for a moment, then look up at Perci. He's looking away from you. . . Who are you, Perci Monet? Or, a better question.) "Who was the Monet family."

(He glances to you, then away. A scowl planted on his face.) ". . . They're nobody important, not anymore."

(You look at the sea of books with his name on it.) "Forgotten by history, one could say?"

"Forgotten?" (Perci stands up.) "That's one way to put it."

"Leaving so soon?" (You rest your head in your palm.)

"If this is our subject of conversation, then yes." (He turns to leave.)

(You don't say anything as you see him walk out of the library.)

(. . . . . . . .)

(You look to your research notes, and write down a single line. "Who were the Monets?")

>>>

(Nille)

(THWACK. THWACK. THWACK. THWACK.)

(You wipe the sweat from your brow, it wasn't particularly hot, but still! You were working on a little gift for Ramos. One of the wooden gardening boxes in the front garden had broken and you were building a new one. It wasn't even that hard! A few pieces of wood, bang em' together, and there you go!)

(You get up and stretch, it was getting late in the day. The gardening box was nearly done, but you shouldn't push yourself too hard. You sit down in the grass and lay back.)

(. . . What the crab have you gotten yourself into.)

(Yeah absolutely you'd love to go on a big ol' adventure with the crabbin' Saviors! Your little sibling is one of them even! Best thing to happen after being frozen. Get to see the country, no, crab that, could see the world!)

(Theeeen first big destination Bonbon nearly got kidnapped, Siffrin nearly died, and had to fight off some guy who turned into a sadness!! And then that the same guy joins the group!)

(Oh and then there's the inn, where everything's fine until Mirabelle and Siffrin come back half dead saying you were mind controlled! You don't even remember most of that day!!!)

(Don't even need to get into yesterday. Ugh, Change really wasn't giving you a break, huh.)

(You turn to the sound of the door opening. Oh it was just Siffy with, wait no that couldn't be Sif could it, 'cause he had a couple cups of tea with him. You sit up and wave.) "Heya, uuuuuh Aster, right?"

"Y-yes, that's, yes." (Change, it sounded like he was about to cry! He holds up the cups.) "Tea?"

"Sure." (Was never really your thing, but why not)

(Aster walks over and hands you the cup. You take a sip, huh. Pretty good. He's still standing, awkwardly.)

". . . So how you like the new job?"

"The- what?" (He looks at you, confused.)

"Y'know, as a scarecrow. Since you're standing around all day, c'mon sit down."

"O-oh-" (He sinks down a bit, embaressed, and sits down. Taking a sip from his own tea.)

". . . Soooooo." (You turn to look at Asterion, resting your head on a hand.) "Ramos."

"R-ramos?"

"Yeah, Ramos." (You wave a hand.) "Way I hear it, Sif's the only one of your little group who likes them, right?"

"I-I, well. . ." (he looks away.) ". . . I don't, know. Saffron, Loop, Mal, Null, they all don't, don't quite trust them, but. . ."

"Buuuuut?" (You lean in a bit more.) "I didn't hear your name on that list."

". . . I am, undecided!" (He turned back to you, a very strained smile on his face.) "There's, oh, just ah, other things to, worry about!"

"Suuuuuure." (You roll your eyes and go to take another sip of your drink.) "Weeeell, y'know if Siffy made a choice yet?"

". . . I, maybe. ." (He looks away again.) "B-but, but he might, hold off on that. Because of, w-well. . ."

". . . Yeah, I gotchya." (You take another sip, and sigh.) ". . . Sooooo, did you uh, have another reason for comin' out with tea? Or no."

"Oh. . . W-well. . ." (He rubs his shoulder and puts the tea to the side.) ". . . C-could, you teach me how to do some protection craft?"

"Wha. . ?" (You tilt your head.) "First off, aren't you pierce craft? Second off, why not ask Isabeau?"

"Ah, well. ." (He shook his head and took a breath.) "I'm, not actually pierce, myself and Mal are both protection, somehow. A-and, I would, be intimidated by asking, Isabeau. . ."

". . . Heh, alright." (You stretch and hop up.) "On ya feet, Aster, training starts now."

"N-now?!?" (He jumped to his feet, surprised.)

"Yeah, right now. Think fast!" (You grin cheekily, and take a swing at him.)

>>>

(Bonnie)

(You yawn and rub the sleep from your eyes. Whuh. . ? You fell asleep?!? When did you crabbin fall asleep. You just sat down on the couch for a second! Stupid, stupid crabface Bonnie. Someone put a blanket over you, too.)

(Bleh, what were you even dreaming about? Just another boring walk down those same boring crabbing hallways? Stupid. Stupid nightmares were getting boring. Always the same stupid stuff!!! Bleh!!!)

(What time was it anyway, it looked late. Light from a sunset was coming through the windows, and you could hear someone cooking. Guess it must be close to dinnertime then- HEY WAIT.)

(You hop off the couch and walk to the kitchen. WHO was using YOUR KITCHEN!!)

(Uh, Siffrin, apparently.)

(Why was Siffrin in the kitchen, cooking? Yeah cooking. They were making soup?!? You walk up to them and they don't even notice you!!)

". . . CRABFACE!!!"

"WA-" (Siffrin jumped like a cat, taking a few steps back.)

"What're you doing?" (You get on your tip-toes to look into the soup pot. Some veggies, cream. . .) "Where's your crabbing meat crabface! And aren't you banned from the kitchen?"

(You turn to them with a smug look on your face, but that changes to worry real quick when you see how panicked they looked. It was like they a ghost, or uh. . .)

". . . 'Frin?" (You ask, They rappidly nod their head, you snort.) "Nuh uh."

(They sink down a bit, and look away.) ". . . I-I'll, just go-"

"Hey!!!" (You run over and stand right in front of them.) "Hey, hey!! You didn't do anything wrong, stupidface!!"

(He takes a step back and stammers out his words.) "B-but, I, uh. . ."

"Hey." (You wave your arms.) "Do the breathing thing, right? Okay?"

". . . A-alright. . ."

(The two of you breathe in, and out. You wave your arms again.) "Hey, you see me, right?"

"I-I, I do, yes?" (He looks confused.)

"Okay! I'm gonna hug you, then."

(Before he can respond, you wrap your arms around them. They felt so soft, cloak was soft, real soft and nice. It actually did feel familiar. . . The nice part of those nightmares, where Sif would teach you how to fight.)

(Notfrin very, very slowly returns the hug. Hold it for a few second, and let go. Your cheeky grin was back in place.) "Heh, better?"

". . . A, a little." (He rubs his shoulder and looks away.)

"Good, stupidface." (You walk back over to the soup.) "Uhm, youuu're not 'Frin, right?"

"N-no it's, it's Aster. . ." (He walks next to you, still a couple steps away though.)

"Well you're acting like a scardeyfrin, 'Ster!!" (You sneer and look into the soup, giving it a stir.) "Why 'ymaking soup?"

"I ah. . . Wanted to, make, something nice?"

(You squint at him.)

". . . F-for, well, Ramos, and everyone?"

"Uh huh?" (You go back to the soup.)

". . ." (He sighs and takes another breath.) ". . . I want to know how to cook, just in case, or so I could, help around with some things."

(. . . HUH!)

(Yeah that's different than 'Frin. Why though? You're the cook after all!!)

(But that doesn't mean he can't cook too!! C'mon!! You should show him some basics.)

"Mmmm okay! Hold this!" (You hand Aster the cooking spoon.) "Keep stiring, I'll get spices and show you how to make a really good soup!!"

[squash1]

reading extremely loud and incredibly close (absolutely devastating, highly recommend) and i can’t stop thinking about this passage in connection to the dreamer trilogy/maggie stiefvater lore:

i don’t know how i know this (i know it is in some respect true although i may be misremembering details) but i remember maggie talking about how one day she was driving to some mundane place — the sort of place you go everyday, the sort of drive you don’t even think about because it’s become second nature — in one of her unusual, maggie-like cars and coming toward her on the other side of the road is her same exact car, and driving that car is a person that looks, from a distance, an awful lot like her. and in my recollection she was so shaken in this moment — essentially having this intense feeling of seeing herself duplicated, another version of her driving around her life — that she turned around and went home. and that this experience is what inspired the dreamer trilogy.

the idea of a doppelgänger, or a twinned self, is so embedded in the dreamer trilogy so knowing this origin story makes it all the more interesting to me. in mythology a doppelgänger is often a bad omen, a bringer of bad luck, like an evil twin, but that’s not really the case in real life or tdt. in the case of hennessy and jordan, niall and the new fenian, mór and aurora, they are all literal copies of one another — a face, a body copy and pasted. the pairs are mirrors of each other living parallel lives — in many ways more different from one another than similar. at least one of them is constantly wondering, am i the imposter? have you gotten it more right than i have?

declan and ronan are mirrors — constantly forced to recognize their father in one another and themselves. and this — the moment when ronan first sees the new fenian and thinks is that me? — feels more the like universal human experience than the true, exact copies do. that moment is the experience of maggie seeing someone with her car and changing course, turning the mundane to the extraordinary. it’s a wake up call. it’s a nudge from the universe.

it’s the moments of recognizing ourselves in others, others recognizing themselves in us. of walking around the world looking like your mother, your father, your sister, your brother, and every stranger you’ve never met.

[salami-dono]

"What? I'm not a monster."

Chaos (She/Her or Any)

This is Chaos. Chaos is my oldest Sonic OC so be nice! 😹 The child's drawing behind her was drawn on August 19, 2006 at 10:30 AM. It was drawn on a large foam board. I remember being annoyed that my mother always told me to sign and date my art so I added the time to this drawing out of annoyance. It is not the first drawing of her.

Chaos' tricks do not require Chaos Emeralds to use. That makes her pretty powerful. She is not pictured with her cheap plastic wand here in the new art but they still have it. Chaos can turn ordinary objects into magical ones. I suppose you can say these objects are imbued with chaos energy.

I changed the "doughnut" part of the hat from blue to gold. Chaos used to hide things inside their hat. They can even fit humans inside their hat! The gold "doughnut" is really a Giant Ring, or Dimension Ring. Big Ring? It's one of those. She's probably hiding a Special Stage inside her hat too. The hat itself was also an ordinary object.

It was Dottie, Chaos' best friend, who gifted Chaos these objects. She bought a cheap magician's kit which included a wand and gloves. She also got a wizard hat at the same magic shop. The shoes were either copied, or stolen. Dottie doesn't get that much allowance. Their look was inspired by the Moon Boot. Perhaps she found them in her parents' closet. lol

This is the character that carried around emergency snacks to treat what seemed like hypoglycemia. I got a lot of responses on that one post, surprisingly. I don't have diabetes (there's still time) so I'm not sure how well I could write a character with diabetes. I am seriously considering making Chaos a diabetic character.

If I had to pick a song to introduce Chaos with, it'd be Put It Together (Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo) from Cinderella II: Dreams Come True. I watched it so many times as a kid.