#only tagging the books i've already posted about this time

[nausikaaa]

Part Two!

July

Six Of Crows by Leigh Bardugo. 5 stars. this is the book i always turn to when i feel my motivation slip. this was my fourth time reading it. i finished it in three days and immediately moved on to the sequel. it's just so good, it grabs you from the very first page and sets off running and doesn't let go.

Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo. 5 stars. of course i had to finish the duology. it was amazing as always.

A Curious History Of Sex by Kate Lister. 4.5 stars, super interesting and really funny, my only issue is that it was mostly focused on middle ages and victorian England. a wider scope would have been even more interesting to compare different places and times.

August

Women & Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard. 4 stars, a short but enlightening read. really made me stop and go "damn every woman on the planet has dealt with deeply shitty men haven't we? shits fucked."

Salt Slow by Julia Armfield. 4.5 stars, a series of short stories so i liked some more than others, but they were all really atmospheric and fun. also as an aside i counted three references to greek mythology, miss Armfield please write a sapphic horror novel set in the classical world next.

Pride: The Unlikely Story Of The Unsung Heroes Of The Miner's Strike by Tim Tate with LGSM. 5 stars, if you follow me you may know it read this as research for a fic, but honestly i couldn't put it down. i learned a lot, laughed a lot, cried a lot. wouod highly recommend.

September

Murder In The Family by Cara Hunter. 3 stars. read it in 2 days, most of it in one night in just over 3 hours. the amount of twists in such rapid succession had me so invested, but the ending was a bit of a letdown.

Liberated: The Radical Art And Life Of Claude Cahun by Kaz Rowe. 4 stars, a quick read but very interesting, i really wish we'd learned this kind of history in school!

October

The Ancient Guide To Modern Life by Natalie Haynes. 2 stars, there's absolutely nothing wrong with this book, it's just that i knew a lot of the information already so it dragged for me. would probably be better for someone who hasn't already listened to her podcast multiple times, as it's a lot of the same info.

The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman. 4 stars. i actually consumed this as an audiobook and regret not getting into them sooner. anyway, a really good mystery and i loved all the characters. i was suspicious of people who did turn out to be suspicious but for non murder reasons, everyone just has secrets in this book. and it managed to finally make me cry in the very last chapter. i'll definitely be reading the next book soon!

Secrets Of The Vampire: A Supernatural Sourcebook Of Our Legend And Lore by Julie Légère, Elsa Whyte and Laura Pérez. 3 stars, enjoyable but short. i really liked the illustrations.

November

The Man Who Died Twice (Thursday Murder Club 2) by Richard Osman. 5 stars, even better than the first one! super exciting and very sweet and touching at times.

Dracula by Bram Stoker. 4 stars. yeah i did Dracula Daily this year. actually i did Re: Dracula but that's basically an audiobook, right? it started in May, ended in November, so i've included it here. honestly, i liked it way more than i'd thought i would. obviously there are parts that make you cringe and remember this book was written in the 1890s, but so long as you read it critically it's really enjoyable.

The First Ladies Of Rome by Annelise Freisenbruch. 5 stars, supplemented the knowledge i already had while also having loads of things i hadn't known before, especially about the later empire which i never studied. overall was super interesting. i want more than ever to go back in time and befriend Julia The Elder, she sounds like an absolute riot. also tv show about Galla Placidia when??

The Bullet That Missed (Thursday Murder Club 3) by Richard Osman. 5 stars. another banger. stayed up all night to finish it, i just couldn't put it down. i'm really attached to these characters now. i fear for Stephen in the last book.

The Last Devil To Die (Thursday Murder Club 4) by Richard Osman. 5 stars. i hate being right. RIP Stephen. bawled my eyes out. but i finished the series!! i felt the mystery wasn't quite as interesting in this one, but the character development was absolutely top tier.

December

The Deathless Girls by Kiran Millwood Hargrave. 3.5 stars. started off strong, was a fairly easy read so i got through the whole 300 page book in a couple of hours (with a break in between for work), but i felt the ending was rushed and dissatisfying. all the setup was there for Mira to become the third vampire, and then at the very end she just leaves and it's some random Countess a single line is devoted to? i can't even tell if it was supposed to be a surprise twist, but it just fell flat and made the ending basically a defeat for the heroine.

Heartstopper Vol 5 by Alice Oseman. 3.5 stars. a quick read but cute. i definitely can feel that this comic meant more to me when i first read it at 17 than it does at 22.

Weak Heart by Ban Gilmartin. 5 stars. this is my third or maybe fourth reread, such a comfort book. the characters feel like old friends at this point.

A Lady For A Duke by Alexis Hall. 5 stars. i was really surprised by how much i enjoyed this book, as i don't typically go for book where the romance is most of the plot, and i especially don't tend to like Regency historical fiction. but it was just really fun and sweet, and it kept me interested all the way through despite being quite long. multiple moments elicited actual shouting. the romance was excellent, i was really rooting for the characters and so happy for them at the end.

Elektra by Jennifer Saint. 2.5 stars. very hit or miss. Clytemnestra's point of view is really good. her compassion, her complexity, and the way she tries to justify her actions are all so well done. Cassandra's was pretty average. i personally wasn't interested in another rehash of the trojan war, and i felt her chapters just slowed the story down, but i can see how they would benefit someone less well versed in the myths. Elektra's point of view just made me angry. her motivation is never really explained in a satisfying way, and the author clearly felt that she has to address the Electra complex, but knowing the history behind it just makes me angrier. it was a badly thought out psychological theory used to gaslight and victim blame victims of sexual abuse, and while i don't believe that the author knew that, seeing it be treated as in any way valid and applicable to the real Electra boiled my blood.

Country by Michael Hughes. 4 stars. the book i chose to spend all christmas day reading this year. a really good story, and knowing the iliad made it even better as i could recognise characters and interactions map onto the original story! it felt like playing a game while reading, picking up all the little references.

Did Not Finish

Helen Of Troy by Margaret George. i did read some more of this but just keep dropping off and gravitating to other things. maybe i'll have finished it by next year.

Bitch by Lucy Cooke. another book that has done nothing wrong, it is a me problem. i will try to finish it.

Dykes To Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel. again, working on it.

In The Vanisher's Palace by Aliette Du Bodard. read three chapters (it's only ten chapters long so a decent chunk) and decided it wasn't for me.

The Menelaid by John Barth. it's not even very long but it's just really meandering and boring. i really tried but just couldn't focus.

and finally, top picks in no particular order that i think i would recommend to anyone who wants to read something new in 2024:

Books I Read In 2023, Part One

In January I decided I wanted to track my reading, as I usually don't really have a sense of how much I read per month or year. I don't like things like Goodreads, so I just jotted down the books I read and what I thought of them in my notes app. Now that we're halfway through the year, I thought I might share what I've read, and then in December I can add part 2. So, without further ado,

January

The Girl From The Sea by Molly Knox Ostertag. 3 stars, a bit slow but generally sweet and fun.

Jackalope Wives And Other Stories by T Kingfisher. 5 stars, every story slapped. would highly recommend if you like dark fairytales with a sense of humour.

February

started Helen Of Troy by Margaret George. I still haven't finished it (she is LONG) but i'm really enjoying it!

I Was Born For This by Alice Oseman. 4.5 stars, it was entertaining and emotional like all of Alice Oseman's books but i have to deduct a half a star for the main character (who is from the south) briefly assuming with no basis that being from north = transphobic and the narrative treating this as a rational assumption and not super bigoted and classist, like what the hell was that about? also via this interaction Alice Oseman managed to find yet another way to mention Durham in her books but this time i couldn't even go "yay i'm from there!" because now have this sense that she thinks i'm predisposed to transphobia because of where i'm from. i cannot stress this enough: what the fuck.

The Prince And The Dressmaker by Jen Wang. 5 stars, so heartwarming and i loved the art! I'm trying to get one of my friends to read it because I just know he'll relate.

March

The Lives Of The Saints by Leigh Bardugo. 3 stars, not really my jam but it adds another layer to her other books, which I really enjoy.

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel. 3 stars, made my head hurt at times because it's kinda convoluted, but still super interesting. the musical is great too. and before you mention it, yes, i am reading Dykes To Watch Out For, but it's not on the list because I just started it, and I will probably read the bulk of it and finish it in July so it will fall under there.

April

Lies We Sing To The Sea by Sarah Underwood. 3.5 stars, i'll be honest, i read this out of morbid curiosity and spite. it was a pretty average for a YA book really, not worth all the drama it stirred up in the classics community, but the end surprised me so it gets an extra half star.

A Fatal Thing Happened On The Way To The Forum: Murder In Ancient Rome by Emma Southon. 4 stars, really interesting and quite funny at times but i just don't really like the author's vibe. she's weirdly defensive of Caligula, just as she was in her book on Agrippina that i read last year. like yeah people make fun of him and exaggerate stories about him but he literally killed people, maybe he deserves it.

May

Messalina: A Story Of Empire, Slander And Adultery by Honor Cargill-Martin. 5 stars, super interesting and engaging, i never wanted to put it down! Messalina really did just girlboss too close to the sun.

I travelled this month so didn't have time for any other books, but I bought my own weight in them and will try to work through them.

June

Rain Hare by Anna Barker. 4 stars, a collection of short stories so a mixed bag. I really liked most of them, some even made me cry (to be precise, How Do I Feel About Lentils?, which does an excellent job of blending past and present to help the reader get into the confused mind of the narrator, who has Alzheimer's, and Tunny, wherein the twist hit me like a sack of bricks and all I could do was break down) but there was just one i didn't really like (Sea Glass, i just don't really vibe with the mentally ill narrator dying at the end and this being presented as what she wanted.)

Through The Woods by Emily Carroll. 3.5 stars, good horror, the art was great and the stories interesting, but they all felt like they ended just a bit too soon and therefore lost some of their impact.

Our Wives Under The Sea by Julia Armfield. 6 stars, yes, i'm straight up giving this 6 out of 5 stars because it was so so good! i devoured it in one day flat and loved it. the horror was atmospheric and gripping, the romance made my chest ache, and the ending absolutely devastated me, but in a good way.

so yeah, hopefully i can continue to get through my massive TBR pile in the coming months! and if you've read any of these books, please let me know what you think, I would love to talk about them!!

[marypsue]

I freely admit that this post is more propaganda to try to get people to consider using a book journal than me actually believing that People In General keep book journals, but consider: keeping a book journal.

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[lc-holy]

Here's a summary of the latest information we have on Miraculous special episodes and season 6.

(Please be respectful in the comments and tags on this post or create your own).

Special episodes:

- I think you already know, but the special London episode will be broadcast on October 5 on Disney channel France at 9:00 a.m. (French time).

A trailer has been released on the official Miraculous Ladybug France Youtube channel. A second trailer was released at the TFOU press conference. (video available on TF1Pro).

-The Tokyo special is currently in production, and will feature 3d and 2d animation.

-Thomas replied to someone who asked about a spin-off of the Paris special with Shadybug and Clawnoir: “If all goes well, it should become a comic book series.”

Season 6:

-The season 6 trailer was also broadcast during TFOU's press conference, it's the same trailer shown in June at Annecy. And they've added a few new sequences at the end of the trailer.

(The trailer probably contains some unfinished animation.)

-The September issue of Licensing Magazine still announces Season 6 for the end of 2024, but with no further details.

For those wondering why there's an animation change in season 6, here's what Thomas answered on Twitter:

-"It was necessary as the assets we had didn’t work anymore with newer maya versions. We needed to switch to something that will last at least for the next ten years."

-"There's a big improvement in the design, which I've been waiting for, and a big improvement in the animation, which goes beyond what I'd hoped for. It's only in terms of rendering that we still have a few technical issues to sort out, but there too, it will be much more beautiful."

For those wondering why Adrien doesn't have any new clothes in season 6, Thomas replies: "Very good question, you'll understand."

One last thing:

Even if you don't like the new animation, don't harass the writers, don't harass the animators, don't harass the new animation studio, don't harass Zag etc...

Be respectful of all the people who work hard on the series. Be patient and wait to see the final result. And even if you don't like the end result, at least give yourself time to get used to it.

[thedailydescent]

📚Book Raffle for Laila and Hashim!📚

"In those beautiful days, we used to meet in the morning and in the evening with delicious coffee and talk about our dreams for the future in order to build a new house or start a family and have a child, but now we don't meet on anything..."

Hashim and Laila (@hashimsafadi) are a couple from Gaza desperately trying to raise funds to evacuate safely, but unfortunately, despite campaigning for more than five months, have only raised €1,668 of their €30,000 goal. I have spoken about this couple before on my blog here, here, and here.

They have also been shadowbanned on Tumblr, and are unable to send messages or tag people. Because of this, I've decided to host a book raffle of behalf of them.

I am raffling off my copy of The Divine Comedy- Collectible Deluxe Edition - ILLUSTRATED Leather Bound Hardcover. It was purchased at the House of Medici in Florence, and is still in mint condition.

If you donate:

-€5-€9.99 to Hashim & Laila, you are entered in once,

-€10-€14.99, twice,

-€15-€19.99, three times,

-€20-€24.99, four times,

-€25+, five times.

Send me proof of donation by dropping it in my submission box (if I follow you or we're mutuals you may message me). The donation must have occurred between Oct 5-Nov 5. Nov 5 is the last day to enter and the winner will be announced on Nov 6!

Currently, Hashim and Laila are without proper shelter and have been suffering from the heat, rain, polluted drinking water, and skin diseases. They have already been displaced several times. It is vital that they have a safe place to stay in for the upcoming winter.

Please help them out.

This fundraiser has been vetted by Pali Pals (@victoriawhimsey).

You can also follow Hashim on Instagram here and here for further updates.

For further reach, reblog and tell me in the tags:

@heritageposts @neechees @jezior0 @schoolhater @aria-ashryver

@90-ghost @appsa @notalk-justthought @sar-soor @riotdyke

@vakarians-babe @vakarian-shepard @sayruq @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @commissions4aid-international

@ghost-and-a-half @4ft10tvlandfangirl @flower-tea-fairies @tamamita @turtletoria

@thatdiabolicalfeminist @fiishboowl @tooquirkytolose @2spirit-1spoon @kropotkindersurprise

@xinakwans @charlesoberonn @vague-humanoid @mysharona1987 @memewhore

@mens-rights-activia @paper-mario-wiki @workersolidarity @queenangella @troythecatfish

@the-bastard-king @palipunk @neptunerings @earth-dad @papasmoke

@lanliingwang @skarchomp @gogopri @athetos @doyouknowthisgame

@sapphling @cowboycostume @thelastbacchae @heir-of-the-chair @woodwool

@transmarx @tadpoledyke @soaen @kandyshoppe @v1leblood

@meshimellow @garcavisconde @iwtvdramacd18 @softdog @dollyrin

@indihome-suck @socalgal @wayneradiotv @ghelgheli @maester-cressen

@northgazaupdates @watermotif @stuckinapril @mavigator @zamanassad

@yugiohz @aristotels @komsomolka @toiletpotato @fromjannah

@omegaversereloaded @punkitt-is-here @timetravellingkitty @deathlonging @briarhips

@dirhwangdaseul @mahoushojoe @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @transmutationisms

@sawasawako @deepspaceboytoy @post-brahminism @khanger @3000s

[ifiguredyoudloveme]

Book Boy

timothée chalamet x female!reader

summary: ever since timothée saw you at the store, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you. once he finally sees you again walking down the street, he can't help but ask for your number.

warnings/tags: 18+, nsfw, sub!timmy, dom!reader, bondage, p in v, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, cum makeout (?), dirty talk, use of the word mommy

words: 3,198

a/n: i haven't posted in so long but timmy's look as marty sparked some very ungodly thoughts and i just had to write something. (this is far longer than i intended it to be.)

Timothée wanders into his favourite book store one rainy afternoon, searching for something romantic, and well...sexual. He feels like he's being spied on as he skims through the romance section, looking behind his shoulder as if anyone knows, or cares, what he's searching for.

Upon walking in he was greeted by the store owner – an older, chubby man with a large, grey moustache – and asked whether he needs help finding anything, to which Timothée replied, “Just browsing, thank you,” in a tone far higher pitched than he was going for.

He pulls out a book from the shelf and flips it around, skimming through the blurb on the back. His eyes widen, and he quickly hides it in his jacket. He nearly jumps out of his skin when a girl speaks over his shoulder.

“I've read that one,” she says in a friendly, innocent tone. “Oh, shit. Didn't mean to scare you,” she giggles.

Timothée turns around to face her, the book still hidden in his jacket. “What one?” He asks stupidly.

She giggles again, pointing at his jacket. “The book hidden in your jacket..?” She crosses her arms. “You're not planning on stealing that, are you?”

“Oh, this?” He says, pulling the book out. “Of course not.”

“Good,” she smiles, and turns her attention back to the shelves.

Timothée stands next to her awkwardly for a moment, swaying back and forth on his feet.

“Is it good?” He asks, voice cracking. He fakes a cough into the back of his hand.

She turns back to face him, her eyes looking into his with a glint of something he can't quite place. “I guess it depends what you're into.”

Timothée gulps. “Okay. I'll– I'll get it,” he croaks, before turning and walking back towards the front of the store. He places the book in front of the kind man and he gives Timothée a knowing smile before placing the book into a brown bag. He quickly hands the man some cash and rushes out of the store.

That night, Timothée lays on his bed, stomach down, and reads the book. The first page alone is a sex scene, and he's already humping his mattress. He can't help but imagine the woman in the story is the woman he saw in the bookstore and the man is himself.

The man gripped her breast lightly, so as not to hurt her, and teased at her soft clit with the tip of his tongue.

He imagines her reading this and his hips speed up.

She arched her back from the bed, the warmth from his mouth too much to bear. But only when his finger slid inside of her did her breathing halt and her body convulse, the eruption of orgasm flowing through her and out of her as a moan.

He cums, shaking, his face buried in the pages, the scent of aged paper filling his senses. He wonders if this is the exact copy she borrowed.

Out of it, he throws the book at the wall. The book itself is unarousing, he realises. Far too formal. He'll return it tomorrow.

Later, after cleaning himself up, he walks outside on the balcony of his apartment and lights a cigarette. Leaning on the railing, he watches the bustling street below, still erupting with life despite midnight.

That's when he sees her – in the same outfit, only with a jacket this time, wandering on the other side of the street. He immediately opens his mouth to call out for her but realises he doesn't even know her name.

So, he bolts inside, grabs his own jacket, and rushes out the door, making his way down the windy stairs and finally, into the night. He looks around frantically before spotting her again, turning right at the end of the street. He runs.

Once he's in front of her, walking backwards, he can hardly catch his breath. She looks at him with that same adorable smile.

“Book boy,” she says, pointing at him.

“Yep,” he responds, adjusting his glasses. “I saw you from my apartment and I—”

“Did you read the book?” She interrupts, that same glint in her eyes again.

Timothée gulps. “Uh, yeah. A little.”

She teases her bottom lip with her tongue, then stops walking. They stand still for a moment, facing each other, before she takes a step forward. She's so close to him he can feel her soft breaths against his face.

“Were you thinking about me when you did?”

Timothée's jaw goes slack. He can only nod. She smiles, then steps back. She fiddles through her purse for a pen, the takes Timothée's hand in hers and scribbles her number onto his palm, and under it, her name.

Then, she walks off into the night.

Timothée reaches out, goes to call her name, but decides against it. He turns, smiles, and walks back to his apartment.

In the morning, after writing her number and name from his palm onto a sticky note then drifting off to sleep, he immediately calls her number.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, naked, chewing at his fingernails, he waits for her voice. The call connects after three rings and he almost drops his phone in nervousness.

“Hello?” she says politely.

“Uh, y/n? It’s me…” he’s about to say his name but realises she doesn’t know it, “...book boy.”

“Oh!” she exclaims. “You called.”

“Of course.” He stands and starts to pace around his room, a smile growing on his face. “I was, uh– I was wondering if you’d like to meet for coffee today. At noon.”

“That would be lovely,” she agrees. “I’ll come over to yours.”

“Oh, but I—”

“Shh,” she giggles. “I know where you live – don’t think I didn’t see you on your balcony.”

Timothée clears his throat. “Alright, that…that sounds good. I'm in number 106. However my apartment is quite small and in a mess—”

“So is mine,” she says.

“Okay, good,” he replies, cringing at his response. “So…noon?”

“I'll be there. Bye!”

The call ends and Timothée lets out a deep breath he didn't realise he was holding. He checks the clock on the wall. Eleven a.m., it reads. His heart jumps; he hadn't realised he'd woken up so late.

He rushes into the bathroom and runs the shower before grabbing his toothbrush and squeezing a generous amount of toothpaste onto it. He scrubs his teeth and hops into the shower, the warm water temporarily calming his nerves.

Leaning his head back, the water wets his hair and he scrubs a thick lather of shampoo into it. He smiles as he imagines his hands are hers, massaging his scalp, and he almost starts purring like a cat. He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose, embarrassed by himself, and takes his hands off his head in shame.

Once he's done, he dries his hair vigorously with a towel before sprinting into his closet and fetching his nicest suit. He pulls on his clothes and nearly trips while putting his pants on, then rushes into the bathroom to do something about his hair. It looks ridiculous, all spiked and wet, so he picks up a comb and combs it into a somewhat presentable style.

He places his hands on his hips and stares at himself in the mirror loathingly. The doorbell rings, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

Breathing deeply, he steps out of the bathroom and walks to the front door. He lifts his hand to the handle, takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

All his nerves go away the moment he sees her, and all he can think about is how beautiful she looks. Her hair is tucked behind her ears with white hair clips, and she wears a beautiful silk light blue dress paired with white gloves and white heels.

“Wow,” is all Timothée can say, and y/n grins widely.

He moves out of the way for her and she steps inside, her heels clicking against the wooden floorboards. She looks around the place as he closes the door.

“It's lovely,” she says. “I expected piles of trash and inches of dust but this…” she runs her hand along his red sofa, “...is gorgeous.”

Timothée scratches his cheek. “Well, thank you, I– it's home,” he smiles. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” she says, sitting on the couch and crossing her legs. “I have three sugars with mine, if that’s alright. I have a sweet tooth.”

Timothée nods as he brews the espresso. “So do I,” he says flirtatiously. He has no idea where his sudden confidence has come from. Catching on, she blushes.

After he's made their coffee, he places them on the coffee table and sits beside her. Being so close to her zaps most of his confidence away, and he falls shy again.

She picks up the mug and takes a sip, moaning at the flavour. Timothée gulps. “This is great, thank you,” she smiles, before leaning over and planting a kiss on his cheek. He nearly has a heart attack.

“Are you going to drink yours?”

“No, I don't– I don't like coffee.”

She gives him a funny look and laughs. “So why'd you make yourself one?”

“I'm not sure,” he replies honestly, shrugging his shoulders. She laughs harder, and he laughs along with her.

Once they stop laughing, she places her coffee down and leans back, facing her body towards him.

“I like your glasses,” she says.

Timothée feels insecure at this. He's only ever been made fun of for them.

“Really? You'd be the first,” he says self-deprecatingly.

“What do you mean?” she asks genuinely. She reaches out and places her hand on the side of his face, lightly swiping her thumb under the thin metal. “They're very attractive.”

He bites his lip and looks at his lap. “You think so?”

“I do,” she replies sweetly, leaning back again.

She observes him once again. He feels exposed, as if she knows all of his secrets, as if she can read his mind. If she could, she'd know how desperately he wants to reach over and kiss her, run his hand over her smooth thighs…

…his cock begins to harden.

“You're drooling,” she says.

He chokes on his own spit and coughs into his arm. “Pardon?”

Laughing, she leans her elbow utop the back of the couch and rests her head in the palm of her hand. “You're not very good at hiding it, you know. You wear what you're thinking in your eyes.”

“Do I?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“Mhm,” she hums with a nod, picking up her mug. She looks into his eyes as she takes a slow sip, then places it down again.

Picking up his own mug, he attempts to repeat her actions but gags the second the lukewarm dirtmilk – as he calls it – hits his tongue. He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose, placing the mug back down. She laughs again, her hand gripping his shoulder.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a moment while she finishes her drink. Timothée can't help but look at her – her gorgeous face, the way the silk of her dress hugs her body, her smooth legs – and undress her with his eyes. He thinks back to the book that now lays on the floor of his bedroom and how, just last night, he was breathing into it in orgasm, thinking of her.

She places her mug down, empty, and as if on queue, says: “Where’s that book?”

Timothée shakes his head, stumbling out of his explicit thoughts. “Hm?”

“The book you bought yesterday. Where is it?”

“Oh, I– shall I get it?”

She nods, so he stands, striding to his room. He retrieves the book from the ground and inspects the mark that throwing it had left on the wall, before returning to the living room.

He hands the book to her quickly, shyly, and sits back down. He watches her as she pulls off her gloves and flips to a very specific page, twenty-three, and hands the book back to him.

Taking it from her curiously, his eyes meet the page and his heart immediately beats at a faster pace. He looks at her with wide eyes. She only smiles, innocent.

“Read it,” she whispers.

So he does.

“‘The woman—” he croaks. “‘The woman sunk down onto his cock. The tight– The tight soft walls of her cunt encased him wholly and he tried, through the ropes tight around his wrists, to reach out and touch. Muffled moans through the gag in his mouth signified something he had tried so desperately to shove away; that he was hers, but she was not his. Lust given into to the shame of God. A forbidden love. The—’”

Timothée's breathing quickens as she crawls over and straddles him, her soft lips against the side of his neck. He holds the book in his right hand and wraps his other around her waist, not taking his eyes off the page.

“‘The bondage rubbed against his skin painfully and he hoped that it left permanent marking, a reminder of this night, forever. Fuck God, he thought. What a horrible thing to think. He should be slapped. Smack! Her hand against his cheek as if she'd read his mind. What a rewarding thing to think.’”

Her lips connect to his and he drops the book. His eyes close. He drinks her in, his hands running up the back of her thighs, her ass, her back, pulling her dress up as he goes. Their lips part for only a moment as he pulls her dress over her head and onto the floor, then their tongues find each other again. She pulls off his jacket and unbuttons his dress shirt, discarding them somewhere.

Before his hands can touch her skin again, she grabs onto his wrists and pins them over his head. She smiles against his mouth then pulls away, her hand falling from his wrists to his belt. Timothée makes sure he doesn't move his arms. She frees the belt and crawls off of his lap then instructs him to face away from her with his hands behind his back. He does so without a second thought, as if by nature.

After tying the belt around his wrists securely she asks him to sit back down, and of course, he does so immediately. It's as if he's in a trance, willing to do anything and everything for a woman he only just met. She could demand he lick the ground that she walks on and he would, happily, oblige.

As she gets on her knees in front of him and begins unbuttoning his pants, he stares at her like an obedient puppy, waiting for a treat. She grips the waistband and pulls them down. In his hurry, he'd forgotten to put any underwear on – she grins up at him, delighted.

A shuddery breath escapes his lungs and his fingers flex in their restraints as she grips the base of his cock and licks at the head, lapping up his sticky wetness. He's fully hard – painfully hard – and the tip of his cock is a deep reddish purple.

“Oh, fuck me,” he groans as she, without warning, swallows him down to the hilt. He leans his head back and his back arches and he wants, desperately, to free his hands and run them through her pretty hair. His forehead, neck, and chest are already glistening with sweat, his abs flexing and rippling as his tip repeatedly hits the back of her warm, wet throat.

The sounds of spit and soft gagging fill the room and he has to bite his bottom lip to stop himself from cumming. Spit dribbles down and coats his balls, pooling under them. He gets close, too close, and impulsively places his foot on her shoulder to nudge her away. She falls softly on her ass and his cock springs free with a pop, slapping lewdly against his stomach.

His muscles relax, and he feels like he can breathe again.

“Was it too much?” she asks, crawling onto the couch beside him, snuggling into his shoulder.

“‘m sorry, y/n,” he says quietly. He almost called her mommy. “I was so close.”

His brain feels mushy. He doesn't know what it is, but he likes it.

She connects her soft lips to his and wraps her hand lightly around his cock, stroking it up and down rhythmically. Their tongues dance together and Timothée moans in both arousal and contentment.

“Are you ready to feel my pussy, baby?” she asks after pulling away from his lips and standing, towering over him. He can only nod, unable to speak.

She reaches behind her back and unhooks her white lace bra, dropping it onto the floor. Her tits are perfect and plush and a line of spit trickles down Timothée's chin. He's actually drooling.

Then, she hooks her thumbs through the waistband of her panties – white and lacey like her bra – and pulls them down, stepping out of them. He stares at her pussy that's covered in a neat blanket of hair and whines, a somehow deeper hunger erupting through him.

“You like what you see?” she asks, smiling, and he nods quickly.

Straddling him again, she grabs his face and kisses him deeply. His cock throbs pathetically between them and she grabs it, sliding his length between the lips of her wet pussy.

He struggles in his restraints. “Please, I need—”

“You need what?”

“Need to feel you, please—”

With that, she sinks down onto his cock, his length filling her up like a hand in a glove, a perfect fit. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he bucks his hips upward without meaning to, letting out a desperate, guttural groan.

She rides him, her hands in his hair and her head thrown back in pleasure, the speed of her hips increasing by the second.

She leans down and kisses his lips repeatedly. “You're so fucking big, baby. So fucking big. Gonna make me cum. Gonna make mommy cum.”

The way she called herself mommy almost makes Timothée faint. His hair sticks to his forehead with sweat and he doubts he can hold on for any longer, his orgasm being drawn closer and closer as her warmth tightens around him. He can almost see stars.

“Fuck, fuck! I'm cumming, I'm–”

She quickly climbs off of him and ends up on her knees again, jerking him off, his tip on her tongue. His vision goes black, his entire body tenses, and he releases, coating her tongue in sticky white mess.

Once he finishes, and before he knows what's happening, she connects their lips, swirling her tongue around his. His own tongue is now covered in his cum as they make out, exchanging a concoction of spit and release.

Their lips disconnect after a moment and she collapses onto his shoulder, their chests rising and falling. His own cum is dripping down his chin. He swallows.

“A forbidden love,” she whispers.

It's only one in the afternoon, and she doesn't even know his name.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Oh Oh what about 'H-how long have you been standing there?' Canon(-adjacent) Hurt/Comfort and Book? this list is actually so interesting there's so many good combinations

Thank you so much, it's been lots of fun seeing which combinations ppl picked and coming up with different story ideas. Hope you enjoy this one. 💖

True love's kiss

Rated: G

Words: 995

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Steve Harrington has a crush on Eddie Munson; Steve has migraines; Hurt/comfort; Love confessions

Eddie finds out by accident. It's one of the last days of summer, and the air has a sticky heaviness to it. He just wants to pick up some stuff he forgot after last night's campaign. Steve isn’t home, he knows for a fact. So what if he memorized his shift plan? It's perfectly normal, most definitely not a sign of obsession or codependency. 

Anyway, the point is, Steve isn't home, so Eddie doesn't ring, just lets himself in and marches into the living room. And that's where his plans for the afternoon derail. 

Steve is on the sofa in front of the television. Eddie's swoop of surprise is short-lived, however, because he isn't watching a movie or game. 

The tv isn't on at all. The entire house is deadly quiet. The blinds on the windows are drawn and the air conditioning is on, the room dark and cold.

Steve is buried in the pillows. His shoulders are shaking. 

“Stevie?” Eddie blurts. “What happened?” 

“Eddie?” Steve croaks. One eye pokes out from the pillows, bleary and horrified. “I- … H-how long have you been standing there?” 

Eddie doesn’t answer. He has already bridged the distance and is sinking down on the armrest by Steve’s head.

Steve sees the concern on his face and groans. “I'm fine. It's just … fucking headaches, don't worry.” 

But Eddie does worry. Eddie is freaking out, which is only natural given their shared history. He makes a horrified sound, shooting up to grab the walkie from Steve’s room and call a code red. 

“No, wait,” Steve says, holding him back with one shaky hand to his wrist. “‘s not anything supernatural. I mean they’ve gotten worse, after everything, but that's probably ‘cause I took a few hits too many. I've always had ‘em. Ever since I was a kid.” 

Eddie lets that statement trickle in. 

“Oh,” he then breathes, sitting back down and gesturing at the dark room. “You mean migraines?” 

Steve, who has thrown one arm over his face, peers out at him. 

“How d’you …?” 

Eddie shrugs sheepishly. “My mom used to get them, before …” 

He trails off, lost in the memory, fingers grasping to fiddle with something. He only realizes where they've landed when they start scratching at Steve's scalp, and a noise spills from his chest. Eddie flinches, stomach alive with an entire whirlwind of butterfly wings, and makes to pull back his hand. 

“No,” Steve mumbles. He's pale, but some of the tension has bled from his features. His voice is slurred. “Don't stop. Feels good.” 

And who is Eddie to deny him? 

Nodding, he slides off the armrest to sit more comfortably, pulling Steve’s head into his lap to rub soothing circles into his temples. He only notices the book lying on Steve’s stomach when it gets jostled by the motion and almost tumbles to the floor. 

“Hey, what’s this?” Eddie mutters, flipping it over to inspect the cover. “Fairytales?” 

Steve takes a few moments to reply, and in the low light, Eddie imagines he sees two pink splotches bloom high in his cheekbones. 

“My nanny used to read ‘em to me when I was sick. I was tryna, but … the fuckin’ letters keep moving.” 

“I'll read you one.” 

Another blink of those pretty eyes, pupils fuzzy and unfocused. “Really?” 

“Sure,” Eddie nods, reveling in the smile he gets when he flips the book open. “Let’s see … Once upon a time, there was a king. He was beautiful and kind and brave, and everybody in the realm loved him dearly. But the king was cursed. He-”

“Wait,” Steve mutters. His lids flutter as he struggles to stay awake. “I don’t- … Which one is this?” 

“My favorite,” Eddie replies. “Now hush, you’re supposed to be resting. Where was I? … The king had been befallen by an evil curse. He couldn’t love himself. He slaughtered many a beast, fought countless battles, hoping to prove his own worth to himself, but nothing lifted the shadow looming over him.” 

Eddie turns a page, crinkling his brow in thought. 

Steve stifles a yawn. His head is getting heavier in Eddie’s lap. “Then what happened?” 

“Patience, I was getting to it,” Eddie scolds. “One day, a new jester arrived at the court. He was skeptical, having heard grand tales of the young king’s beauty and good heart, never quite believing them. Yet, the second he beheld the king with his own eyes, he was enraptured, and he vowed to-”  

“En-whatchered?” 

“Enraptured, Stevie,” Eddie sighs, setting the book aside in favor of combing his fingers through Steve’s hair again. “Smitten, enchanted, lovestruck.” 

“Pffff,” Steve makes. “Love at first sight ain't real.” 

Eddie scoffs half-heartedly. “It's a fairytale. It's not supposed to be realistic. And besides, I'm only telling it, not making it up.” 

“Oh yeah,” Steve says. If his eyes were open, he'd be rolling them right now. “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Eddie agrees, and losing himself for a moment in the lines and angles of Steve’s face, the feel of his hair between his fingers. 

“How does it end?” 

Eddie blinks. “Huh?” 

“The story, silly,” Steve mutters. “How does the jester save the king?”  

“Who said he does?” 

Steve sighs, satisfied and exhausted. “‘s a fairytale. Gotta have a happy ending.” 

Eddie shrugs. “Fair enough. What d’you think he should do?” 

Steve stays silent for a long moment. Eddie is starting to think he fell asleep when he speaks again, so softly it's nearly lost under the rush of the air conditioning. 

“How ‘bout a kiss?” 

“Ah,” Eddie says around the lump forming in his throat. “Good one. Can't go wrong with true love's kiss.” 

Steve hums in agreement. 

“After the king sleeps, though.” His hand finds Eddie’s, interlacing their fingers. “Waited so long for this. Wanna do it without a headache.” 

Eddie is left in the dark, listening as Steve’s breathing evens out, wondering how much of their conversation he'll recall when he wakes up. 

More celebration ficlets

[screamingcrows]

Long days - Alhaitham x reader

note: an old thing I've never posted and decided to rework while taking a break from my dead dove dottore wips. There's a part two brewing in my mind. I'll say: bathtub and bed. I do not consent to this being used for ai and will give you Bordetella pertussis if you do. Tags: gn reader, soft, fluff, domestic, established relationship, reader is a student at the Akademiya, overworked Alhaitham Minors, ageless, blank blogs DNI

Lounging around in Alhaitham's house on workdays was always a comfortable experience; you'd wake up to him pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead before leaving, always leaving slices of zaytun peaches, your favorite, on the table. The living room was your preferred spot during the day due to the cool breeze wafting through. He'd often come home and find you laying on the couch, reading through whatever books were left out to avoid your own studies.

The front door was slammed louder than usual, causing your head to perk up in confusion. It was never really difficult to guess if it was him or Kaveh coming home, but today was different. The door had been shut with more force than what Alhaitham usually did. Letting out a soft sigh, you put the book you'd been reading away.

"Alhaitham, is that you?"

Hoping that he'd already turned off his noise cancelling earpieces, your voice remained soft, not wanting to grate on what might be already frayed nerves.

"Obviously" He sounded annoyed although he did his best to hide it behind his usual cold tone, but you weren't fooled by that, not anymore.

It took you only a moment to deduce that it must've been a busy day for him. There had been too many busy days ever since he was forced into accepting the position of Acting Grand Sage, a thought that had long since taken root and blossomed into a fear that you'd never get him back properly. The thought of him always being worn out and having no time to enjoy himself weighed heavily. You debated going out to hug him as usual, ultimately coming to the conclusion that the unexpected touch would likely only aggravate him further.

Instead, you rose from the couch and went into the kitchen, rummaging around for some ground coffee beans.

You cursed under your breath, suddenly understanding the frustration of Kaveh having a knack for reorganizing every time he cleaned. The only thing to do was thank the Archons that he was currently away, knowing full well that he had a habit of pushing Alhaitham's buttons on days like this.

Meanwhile, faint sounds of Alhaitham going about his business reached your ears, getting his shoes and that silly cloak he insisted on wearing off. Some faint clattering rang through the house as he emptied his pockets. Finally.

A loud curse quickly followed by a loud thud caught your attention once more, body tensing on reflex. Maybe he wasn't emptying his pockets after all? Unusual.

Hands working on muscle memory alone, a pot of coffee was set to brew, a little stronger than usual.

"Are you okay 'haitham?" Soothing words were the way forward, knowing he must be seething to warrant raising his voice.

"I'm in perfect condition," he sounded less composed, a hint of snark in his tone as if you'd asked the most ridiculous question.

You smiled to yourself, in some ways Alhaitham was like a small child, getting annoyed as soon as something didn't go according to his plan. Not that he would ever admit to it. But with a watchful eye, you could catch how his eye would twitch and his bicep flex. His movements sounded a little sluggish as he entered the living room

"You're still working through that book for your thesis? At this rate, you won't even start writing before the deadline for submission has passed," voice having quickly returned to it's normal tone, you smiled at his quip, knowing full well what would come next, "You should accept my offer of assistance, it would be the only logical thing to do."

With a small chuckle you entered the living room, the cup of freshly brewed coffee in your hands as you walked over and offered it to him.

"It would be improper for a student to receive help from the highest authority in the Akademiya," you spoke the words with a smile playing on your lips, knowing that he ached to help, having already read through your drafts and provided commentary more than once unprompted, "Besides, you hardly know enough about my field of study to be of any meaningful assistance."

As you spoke, he took a sip of the coffee, visibly relaxing at the warm feeling spreading through his body from both the drink and your presence.

"Hm, is that so?"

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he sat down on the couch, leaning back and crossing his legs. It was clear that he took it as a challenge, if the way he reached out for your book on the table was any indication. You swatted his hand away with a grin before placing it out of reach. The last thing you wanted was to spend what little time you had with him on something as dull as that.

"You have enough tiresome scholars and students to deal with as it is, no need to add me to that list."

Although you were mostly teasing him, there was a hint of truth to your words, you could see the toll his current position had taken on him, faint dark circles present under his eyes a new constant. He let out a sigh that made you grin, leaving him without counterargument was always pleasant. Not quite as pleasant as the way he patted the spot next to him, eyes fixed on the dark liquid swirling in his cup.

With a satisfied smile, you sat down, resting your body against his toned frame. He placed a soft kiss to your hair, making everything tingle pleasantly. The two of you sat in comfortable silence while he finished his coffee, the color slowly coming back to his cheeks. Begrudgingly, you picked your book back up, instinctively shifting to allow his eyes to skin across the pages as well.

"You should take a bath. You reek of poorly-written submissions and the sweat of scholars desperate for funding," you poked his chest, not taking your eyes off of the book in your hands.

"Have you considered that it could be coming from yourself?"

A small giggle escaped you as you closed your book and tried to wiggle free, which only caused him to pull you closer with a soft hum. He set down the long empty mug before taking the book from your hands, carefully setting it away for later.

"Perhaps you would be interested in joining me for a bath?"

Your ears picked up on the faint notes of hope, unable to deny that the proposition caused a small surge of joy in you. His gentle touch on your cheek was all the convincing that wasn't needed, already fully committed to helping him unwind in any way possible, pushing away the voice that reminded you that this was just as much selfish indulgence from your side.

"Hmm fine," making a show of seeming disinterested, you kept a detached tone and made sure to look away, "but we'd better get to it now, I don't want to be stumbling around naked when your roommate comes home"

A small kiss upon Alhaitham's jaw followed your statement, admiring how his lips turned up into a subtle smile. There's barely time to process the sly hint in his eyes before you feel the world spinning, finding yourself slung over his shoulder.

[batri-jopa]

"Currently"

Since I've already been tagged by both @figuringthengsout and @notasapleasure I should finally do something about it🫡

favorite color: recently it's yellow💛💛💛 Juicy mango type of yellow the most. Often combined with black and white because I enjoy looking like an oriole:

last song: Tina Turner - GoldenEye

last movie: Mask (1994) (and maaan how I never suspected I would look at Stanley Ipkiss as a relateable character when I grow older...���)

currently reading: Romans na receptę - another one of few books by Monika Szwaja that my mum borrowed in our local library. I like her style and it breaks my heart that she died being only 65🥺 There's always so much hope and friendliness and support in the world that she's depicting. And, fascinating enough, there's usually AroAllo woman representation somewhere and depicted in the positive way! Of course it is not called "aromantic" by a polish writer born in 1949, more likely for the main male character to call that "AroAllo" woman character a "robot" who "uses him as as a sex toy"🤭 - BUT nevertheless even the male protagonist really likes her, appreciates her skills as loyal assistant, treats her as good friend to confess his problems to and genuinely wishes her all the luck!👍 In other books you can expect other queers occasionally too (like a teenage son who turns out to have a boyfriend), but it's always in sympathetic and realistic yet bringing-back-faith-in-humanity kind of way🫠

currently watching: umm... nothing actually (I feel like a weirdo😑 Like maybe I should start watching sth finally just so I could fill in the meme next time around? I do have a lot of series on my "to watch list")

currently craving: MANAGE TO GET SHIT DONE!💪 seriously I need either only 2 working days a week instead of 3 or... better time organisation😩 (so what that I have 4 "free" days a week now when there are emails to answer and books to read, and my pictures to make into album, and family members to visit, and all the new pictures' ideas to draw, and new tumblr posts to create, and those fic-WIPs waiting for so long already, and... I wonder if scheduling everything in precize days and hours would help me to feel more organised somehow?🤔 or only feel more remourse for not being able to follow the schedule?😑)

tea or coffee: Oh, so glad you asked! Tea please, black, strong, no sugar, no milk. Lemon appreciated but not necessarily. Thank you!🫖☕️

Tagging: @zorilleerrant , @chrisoels , @swordoftheseeker , @kaiaprax , @imaginatorofthings , @parttimereptile , @corey-m13 - some of you won't play probably so I'm just saying a friendly "hi"👋

[wishmemel]

so high school, ft. fushiguro megumi

synopsis: you’ve known megumi, nobara, and yuuji since freshman year of high school, but it's only recently that you and megumi have started realizing that your feelings might run deeper than friendship (that is, if either of you have the courage to make the first move...) tags: megumi x f! reader, non-curse au, this might be from megumi's pov idk, friends to lovers, all fluff, all characters are about 17, reader is an older sibling, megumi being his usual reserved self, reader is more bubbly, definitely self-indulgent (reader is a sanrio lover), probably ooc but this is just for fun, no beta reader so let me know if there’s any errors cw: i don't think there are any? please let me know if you spot anything, i'll add it! wc. 5.9k posted: 22/10/23 a/n: i've been working on this fic forever and i didn't think i was going to post it at first tbh... most of my fics stay in the drafts but i spent a little more than 2 weeks on this so i thought why not. also, yes, i know you can't legally drive a car in japan at 17, but we will ignore that for the sake of the fic!

Megumi chewed his lower lip, feeling the weight of the necklace stored in the lower pocket of his black backpack.

He and Yuuji had stopped by a comic book store before school started at the latter’s insistence—Megumi had already stopped by yesterday and picked up the copy he’d wanted in secret, stashed underneath his pillow—so he’d split from Yuuji and made his way to the Hello Kitty Shibuya store a few feet down. He didn’t want his friend to see the romance mangas that he was interested in, and he’d already spent most of his allowance on the two copies he’d bought yesterday. He didn’t want to be tempted any more.

Stepping into the store, dressed in all black, heavy eye bags present, his hair unkempt and spiky, he must have frightened the employees, but they’d done their best to greet him with a cheery smile and welcomed him inside. Megumi had pulled down his snapback and wandered around, wondering what he was doing flipping through a rack of cinnamoroll earrings.

By the time he was at the front counter, ears red, using the last of his allowance to buy a pink heart-shaped necklace of My Melody, he was convinced that he was insane. It was the last one on the shelf and it was… expensive, to say the least. He almost put it back on the shelf after seeing the price, but he hesitated, your sweet smile flashing in his mind. To see you rave and gush about him buying this necklace for you, which was supposedly out of stock everywhere online… Well, he really wanted to see your smile.

The employees at the register giggled over his flushed expression and prodded him about who he was buying it for, when he would give it to you, if you were already his girlfriend or if you were just a friend. They wrapped it in a pink box with a white satin ribbon and he left the store with the tiny amount of dignity he had remaining, his ears brick red from dodging all their suggestive questions. 

He hardly remembers stuffing the box deep in his backpack, underneath a spare sweater he keeps in his bag, and rushing over to the manga store with his hands in his pockets, nonchalantly waiting for Yuuji outside as if he’d never left.

They’d walked to school together, chattering away: well, it was mostly just Yuuji talking. Megumi listened, but that was the way he preferred it. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever been labelled talkative. Even as a child, Gojo, his guardian, had complained about Megumi’s blunt and silent nature. Yuuji didn’t mind the silence—it just meant that he had a chance to talk. Nobara despised it—she was always rolling her eyes or pressing him about one thing or the other. When it came to you, you liked the comfortable silence. You didn’t feel the need to fill it with conversation, and even when you did, it was because you wanted to, not because of some awkwardness that you felt between the two of you. 

The two boys met up with you and Nobara, both of you bleary-eyed and early at school for once. 

The two of you had this awful habit of staying up late and talking on the phone to get your homework done and then waking up hours after school had started, practically missing your first period classes. 

Megumi and Yuuji used to wait outside the gate for you two in the beginning, but now they knew you too well and usually headed inside, talking at Megumi’s locker. On the off chance that one of you arrived on time, you knew exactly where to find them. 

“Where were you two?” you asked, tilting your head to the side with a confused scrunch of your brows. “We looked for you at your locker, but you weren’t there. Nobara and I actually got to school on time! Aren’t you proud?”

Despite your weariness, your makeup was always done to perfection, uniform ironed and straightened, hair silky and shining underneath the scorching sun, so Megumi always thought you looked good.

It was just recently that you had started looking beautiful instead of nice and seemed more funny than even his best friend, Yuuji.

“Megumi and I ran to the comic book store,” Yuuji said, eyes lighting up with excitement. “I got the one-hundred-fifteenth edition of Human Earthworm. Basically, in this edition, Worm Man falls in love with this woman, but there’s a catch! She’s also half-worm, but she’s a worm from the top half of her body and the bottom half—“

“Itadori,” Nobara barks. “It’s too early in the morning for your SuperWorm stories.”

Nobara glares at him, looking like she hadn’t even had time to do her makeup.

Yuuji peers at her. “You look kind of… sick.”

Nobara’s eyes flare with uncontrolled rage and she leaps on Yuuji’s back, wrapping her legs around his waist as she pulls at his pink hair. “Do you want me to kill you?”

Megumi sighs while Yuuji laughs and dodges Nobara’s advances. You just giggle, your arm brushing against Megumi’s, though he wonders if he’s the only one who notices the warmth of your skin on his.

The bell rings, startling them, and Nobara slowly unlatches herself from Yuuji. You bound over to her and fix her hair and she allows you patiently.

“Good?” she asks, checking her phone’s reflection.

“Good?” Yuuji mocks, patting down his own hair. 

“You both look hot,” you affirm, giggling at Nobara’s murderous look. You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and check your phone. Your expression brightens as you glance over at Megumi. “Megs and I have Chem together first. We have a lab today, remember?”

He doesn’t return your smile, mostly because he’s starstruck at the sight, but nods slowly to let you know he’s heard.

Nobara groans. “Yuuji and I have Gym first,” she gripes.

You snort, flicking her cheek. “I don’t want to know why you would ever decide to take that class.”

“It’s not bad or hard,” she defends, but then she puts her fist up and grits her teeth. “But there’s this really stupid teacher who always picks on me for being a woman. He thinks I’m slower ‘cause I have a vagina and that makes me want to pull out his hair.”

“And he hates me because he always says I’m cheating during our run,” Yuuji complains. “It’s not my fault I’ve trained a lot!”

You laugh again before bouncing over to Megumi and wrapping a hand around his bicep. “Let’s go,” you insist. “We have to get the seat at the back before Miwa gets there again! Last time, she took my spot and she knows it’s my spot. I always sit there!”

You drag him with you, calling your goodbyes to a stunned Yuuji and Nobara, the two aware of how much Megumi hates physical touch. They wait, watching for their friend to remove your hand, but he never does. The two exchange nervous looks as they follow you through the front doors.

You’re sitting on a large boulder, your back to him, as you listen to Yuuji and Nobara’s insistent speech. He can almost imagine your confused look: your eyebrows scrunched, lips pouty.

The three of you haven’t spotted him yet, nonchalantly strolling towards you, hands tucked in his pocket, but even at this distance he can hear what the pair are telling you.

“You cannot touch Megumi,” Nobara insists. “He hates being touched.”

“The last time I tried to hug him, he squeezed my wrist so hard I thought it’d break,” Yuuji points out, cradling his arm. “He hates physical touch.”

Megumi sighs and rolls his eyes. 

Just when he’d started getting close to someone, his cursed friends had to interfere. Even if their intentions are in the right place, can’t they mind their own business? He isn’t exactly the people-pleasing type: if he’s letting you touch him, it’s on purpose. 

Both Nobara and Yuuji share exactly one brain cell, he thinks. 

“Oh… really?” Is he imagining the hint of disappointment in your tone? “Ah, I didn’t know. Okay… I’ll try to keep my distance from now on. Thanks for telling me.”

“What are you three talking about?” he asks, stopping at your back.

You still as his leg brushes against your back. You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes with a tentative smile. He’s awestruck all over again, like every time you flash him that smile. 

“You,” Nobara answers truthfully, taking his attention off of you. 

Yuuji elbows her and laughs awkwardly. “She’s kidding. W-we were talking about Human Earthworm 5! Yeah, Human Earthworm. Obviously. I told them we should go see the fifth—“

You roll your eyes, watching him take a large step over the boulder to stand next to Yuuji. “I don’t know why they’re lying. We were just talking about where to go for lunch. Yesterday, Nobara and I got to pick and we went out for sushi, remember? We thought you guys might have a preference today.”

“That’s what we were talking about,” Yuuji affirms quickly with a painfully bright smile. Megumi isn’t so awestruck at the sight. 

There’s a collective moment of silence; they’re all holding their breath, waiting for his answer. 

He looks at you. You give him an innocent smile, blinking, and he finds it slightly frightening how easily you can lie to his face like that.

“Okay.” Megumi shrugs, accepting your words. “I’m in the mood for tteokbokki,” he says, despite his lack of allowance, if only to change the topic. He remembers Yuuji salivating over the thought of the street food yesterday in Math class, even after lunch. 

“There’s a place near here that has corn dogs and tteokbokki,” Nobara mentions, checking the Maps app on her phone. “It’s a five minute walk.”

“I want tteokbokki with a boiled egg,” Yuuji announces eagerly. 

“Tteokbokki is best with egg,” Nobara agrees. “Wanna share?”

“I want the whole egg,” Yuuji warns.

“You can spare me half,” she insists. “I want it too!”

“If we want to go, then we should go now,” you interrupt. “We only have thirty minutes left.”

Both Nobara and Yuuji start bickering over their order and you take that chance to sneak a quick glance at your phone, frowning at the recurring texts you’ve been receiving. 

Megumi looks to you, eyes catching onto the worried crease between your eyebrows. You put away your phone at his watchful gaze.

“Sorry,” you say, feigning a smile. “Let’s go.”

He nods, wondering if he should ask you why you had that concerned look in your eyes. But Megumi isn’t good at words; he always stumbles and trips over them and can never quite get his thoughts out properly, unlike you. He’s always admired the eloquent and seemingly veritable way you speak, even when you lie. You’re always able to put on a mask. 

He’s not so good with words, so in a rare display of bravery, he resorts to offering you his hand, as if extending his heart to you. His ears turn red as he looks away from you, realizing that Yuuji and Nobara have stopped arguing long enough to watch. 

You blink uncertainly, then beam up at him and take his hand. 

Your hand is warm in his and much much softer than the callouses that roughen his. Often, you offer him hand lotion in Chemistry and he hasn’t the heart to refuse you. You squeeze a dollop of the rose-scented cream in his hand before doing the same on your own. He gets the pleasure of watching you beam as the two of you rub the lotion into your palms. As a result of your generosity, his hands have been feeling softer than usual.

You thank him for the gesture and he just shrugs, bumping shoulders with you as you enter the address into your Maps app, trying to avoid the awkward atmosphere in the air. 

“We can get two eggs,” Nobara attempts, to break the tension. 

Yuuji agrees immediately with no argument. 

The jewelry box feels especially heavy in Megumi’s bag.

When the three of you reach the restaurant, Yuuji and Nobara immediately fight over who’s paying for the extra eggs. Nobara insists that it should be Yuuji who pays because he should be the one paying penance, while Yuuji wants to split the cost in half. The two of them bicker a little more, embarrassing you and Megumi in front of the cashier before they place their order, and then continue to do so while taking a seat at a table for four.

You just sigh and muster your brightest smile to make up your friends. Megumi hovers closely behind you as you place your order, feeling slightly protective of you in front of the handsome male noting your order. 

The man is tall, maybe taller than Megumi himself, and he has this air of easiness that Megumi instantly dislikes. What, with his eager grins and frequent winks sent your way, it’s clear that he just can’t—won’t—take a hint. His name tag reads Haru, which has many many meanings, but the one Megumi decides on is sun. He’s overwhelmingly sunny, much like Yuuji. But while Yuuji’s is a natural sunniness, a disposition that comes easily to him, Haru has this overbearing nature, like when he leans over the register to take your cash and purposely lets your fingers brush his. He has these charming chocolate-coloured curls and he keeps brushing them out of his big, dark eyes. Even through his instant dislike, Megumi can’t help comparing himself to the man.

He keeps wondering: Is this your type? Would you be interested in someone like this, so sunny and bright, almost as much as you are?

“A mozzarella corn dog with cinnamon sugar and the small tteokbokki, no egg,” you’re confirming, cutting through the jealous haze that is his thoughts. You glance back at him, finally taking his attention off of Haru. “Want anything?”

“Naah, I ate earlier,” he says with a shake of his head, sidling closer so that your back brushes against his chest. You startle slightly, but don’t move away. Haru’s smile falters a little. Megumi wants to stick his tongue out at him petulantly like a little kid who’s just won a game of rock, paper, scissors. 

Somehow, Megumi can tell you see through his lie, likely because you’ve been with him for almost the entire day, but you don’t argue and he quickly pulls out his phone and distracts himself with the Weather app so that you won’t suspect him further. 

A forecast of rain, he notices, startling. 

He usually stores an umbrella or two in his bag because he knows you never bring one—it doesn’t rain as often as you’d like, but even when it does, you enjoy the water soaking you to the bone. Megumi usually watches you, Nobara, and Yuuji splash in puddles, his black umbrella already opened up to keep him dry. When the three of you get tired or cold, you can count on him to lend you one, and you often plaster yourself to his side, getting his clothes wet as your teeth chatter underneath the umbrella. 

His fond expression breaks when you nudge his shoulder and the two of you make your way to the table where your friends are already seated, Nobara sitting cross-legged on the seat to face Yuuji, hands waving about animatedly. 

“You know, you were checking that guy out for an awfully long time,” you tease with a cheeky smile.

Megumi’s mind doesn’t put two and two together. In fact, he feels like it might be short-circuiting. “What?”

None of what you’re saying makes sense to him—isn’t it so obvious that he’s interested in you? 

“You know, Megs, if you’re gay, you just have to tell me,” you say solemnly, trying not to let your face crack. “I’m sure Nobara and Yuuji will also support you. Nobara likes girls, and, besides, that’s what friends are for. We’re here for you, even if you’re into the douchey cashier.”

“You thought he was douchey?” he blurts, the only thing that his brain seems to process. 

“So, you are gay!” you exclaim, slapping your receipt onto the table where Nobara and Yuuji are sitting. They jump at the thump sound the receipt makes on the table, their conversation interrupted. 

“Fushigoru’s gay?” Nobara asks skeptically with a raised brow as she turns around to face the two of you. An amused smile plays on her mouth. “I knew it. I called it first!”

“I said it first!” Yuuji protests. “Remember when he punched Kai in the face and I said that he did it because he thought his was was just too pretty to—“

“I’m not gay,” Megumi snaps, cheeks on fire. “And I don’t like Kai!”

You stifle a giggle, sliding your receipt in Nobara’s direction. “I got a corndog and tteokbokki. We can share.”

Nobara scans the receipt with a raised brow, letting Yuuji read off her shoulder. “Another phone number?” she teases slyly. 

“What?” you and Megumi blurt at the same time. 

Megumi snatches the receipt from her freshly-manicured nails and his eyes widen in horror at the series of numbers that are, indeed, printed at the bottom in black pen next to a winky emoji. Beside him, you cringe and Megumi crushes it up in his palm and shoves it into his pocket. 

He raises a brow, sliding into the booth, and asks, “Did you want that?”

You shake your head almost immediately and follow after him, sitting across from Nobara. She taps the side of your sneaker with her own and you look her way long enough to see a mischievous glint enter her eyes. 

“You’ve just been collecting phone numbers left and right, haven’t you?” Nobara sings, wiggling her brows at you to break the silence. “Quite the player, aren’t you?”

“This is the first number I’ve gotten all year,” you protest, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “You know that—you guys are always with me!”

“What about the guy at the vending machine yesterday?” Yuuji asks.

“Kai?” you ask in disbelief. “He’s not—We aren’t—”

Megumi blurts, “Kai asked you out yesterday?”

You groan aloud, burying your face in your hands. “No, he didn’t! He just expressed his interest. I told him I didn’t like him and we left it at that.”

And here Megumi was thinking that the guy had learned his lesson—It was true that Megumi had punched him in the face, but not for the reasons that Yuuji predicted. If Yuuji had truly heard what Kai had said about you, he wouldn’t be nearly as lax with his teasing remarks. And, fine, it was true—Kai did have somewhat of a pretty face and Megumi did have this tiny inkling that Kai had feelings for you, but he’d done his best to ignore that small, jealous whisper and tuck it aside. He never imagined that Kai would act on his feelings.

Maybe Megumi hadn’t punched him hard enough. 

Megumi removes his snapback and places it on the table, rubbing the material between his fingertips to soothe the burning in his chest. 

Yuuji raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on his mouth. He looks like he’s about to make another unnecessary comment, but he’s interrupted by Haru, the cashier, serving them their lunch on a long, silver tray. 

You make eye contact with him and suddenly regret your decision to sit on the outside of the booth when he smiles at you for long moments while serving, explaining each and every dish with precise detail to you and only you. He flatly ignores your friends and keeps his eyes locked onto you, even while serving—you’re half afraid he might drop something that way. On the positive side, he knows exactly what he’s talking about—each dish, each flavour, each part is explained down to a T. 

You know more about canned Coca-Cola now than you ever have in your entire life. Who knew that the drink used to contain cocaine before 1929? Not you. But you’re thinking you could use some right now to get out of this awkward situation.

On the negative side—Yuuji is stifling his laugh, Nobara looks like she might explode any moment now, and Megumi… Megumi is glaring daggers at the man who ignores the icy look and continues his long-winded speech. 

You break eye contact and try not to roll your eyes as you lock gazes with Yuuji across the table. He gives you a knowing look, pressing his trembling lips together to hold in the laughter that dances in his eyes. 

He seems to be saying this is all your fault. 

You just sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll pay for your eggs," is what you mouth back at him. 

Yuuji’s smile widens and he makes out, “Deal!”, right back at you. 

Haru has only just moved on to explaining how tteokbokki is made in their kitchen when Megumi tucks his black snapback onto your head, bringing it down to cover your view. He opens his mouth to argue but is interrupted by Nobara who snaps, “I think we know what we ordered. And Chef doesn’t seem like it’s part of your job description.”

The silence that befalls the restaurant makes your face burn hot with embarrassment. You sigh and cover your face with your hands, wishing a hole would appear in the floor so you could crawl into it, roll around, and just die. 

Megumi is not sure whether to feel grateful to Nobara for speaking up or annoyed because he was going to say something first. 

Haru mumbles, “It’s not. I’m a server.”

“I think we can handle it from here,” Yuuji coughs awkwardly. 

“Thank you,” you mutter under your breath, nudging Megumi with your knee. 

“Thanks,” Megumi repeats tersely, unpleasantly reminded of the existence of social etiquette. 

“Men take a hint,” Nobara mutters, glaring at Haru’s retreating back. “Level: impossible.”

You snort under a breath and point a set of packaged chopsticks at her. “And you made fun of me for rejecting Kai. He also wouldn’t take a hint and was incredibly insistent—I mean, what kind of guy waits outside of class for you every. single. day. after you reject him?”

Nobara slides her tteokbokki in her direction, seeing as how all of the dishes are placed in a spot advantageous to you. You give both her and Yuuji a pair of chopsticks, then push Megumi’s smaller tteokbokki dish towards him. 

“Megumi and I wait outside your classes for you,” Yuuji points out, breaking apart his chopsticks with a skeptical eyebrow raised. 

Indeed, Megumi is frozen, awaiting your response with bated breath. 

Do you find him creepy or weird when he waits for you? He’d always thought you might appreciate having someone to walk to your classes and chatter with, especially when Nobara isn’t around. He hadn’t considered the fact that you might think of him as a creep…

“You and Megumi don’t count,” you insist, glancing at him with your brows furrowed. “We’re friends. It’s different. Kai would bring me a different flavoured chocolate each day and deliberately hand it out in front of a group of guys that are known to gossip. He’d make these stupid comments, put his hand on my shoulder, and act like we were dating.”

You unwrap a set of chopsticks, snap them in half and offer them to Megumi who takes them with a troubled look. 

“Stop it,” you argue, nudging his leg with yours. “I already told you: I’m uncomfortable when Kai does it. You guys are my friends—it’s not any different than when Nobara waits for me.”

“Preach,” Nobara says solemnly, shoving another rice cake in her mouth. Yuuji startles and protests at the fact that he’s been too busy conversing with you to even have a bite, but Nobara just sticks her tongue out at him petulantly. 

So now he’s being compared to Nobara, Megumi sulks. He’s not sure which is worse—being likened to a creep or to Nobara. 

You nudge him with your elbow this time, shooting him an effortless smile. “Come on, cut out the whole protective older brother thing. I can see it in your face. Nothing happened, Megs.”

Megumi starts, then just nods, though he hadn’t been thinking of Haru. Unfortunately, your words do nothing to ease his mind. 

Now you’re referring to him as your older brother… He can’t say he’s not used to it, but… he doesn’t want to be your older brother, nor does he want to act like one.

Nobara smirks. “Yeah, Megs, listen to your—”

He kicks her shin from across the table and her eyes blow wide. “Hey! You didn’t do anything when…” Nobara’s train of thought is cut off when Yuuji elbows her. She settles for glaring at Megumi with a look that says I’ll get you back. 

Megumi looks indifferent to her nonverbal threat as he takes the first bite from his meal. Seeing him eat spurs you into action and you open up the container with your mozzarella corn dog.

He knows you see Nobara as a fun, sister-like figure: someone you can laugh with, go shopping with, and call whenever you need advice, gossip, or a pick-me-up. With Nobara, your time flies by in seconds, the two of you always busy giggling and laughing on FaceTime. 

You see Yuuji as a younger brother: someone to indulge and take care of, especially because Megumi doesn’t humour him and Nobara bickers with him day and night, much like a sibling would. You ruffle his hair when you’re pleased with him, making him beam, and you graciously tag along to the movie theater with him when a new Human Earthworm movie is released, since he and Nobara staunchly refuse whenever Yuuji pleads. 

So, maybe Megumi’s role has been predetermined from the start. He’s always been overprotective of his friends and he nags like a mother hen, especially when it comes to you. Whenever you text him that you’re going out, accompanied with a few pictures, asking him what to wear, he always makes sure that you have your location on, your ringer on, that you aren’t on silent mode, or you haven’t muted his texts. He makes sure he knows exactly where you’re going, when you’ll be back; he makes sure his phone is always nearby so he never misses a text from you, in the rare case that you might message him to pick you up. After all, he is your group’s designated driver. He figures you might need him once in a while. 

He chews his rice cakes slowly, trying to ignore the burn in his chest. He glances over at you, busy in conversation. The three of you are used to his frequent silence; you don’t take it as odd anymore, nor do you press for him to join the conversation. You all know he’ll speak up when he wants to. 

Is he overbearing? 

Actually… he’s not unlike you, in that sense. 

You’re the first to remind Yuuji, as always, that he’s left his phone in Megumi’s car, or his books in the classroom, or that his hoodie is in his locker, as always, but you’d picked it up for him because you knew he’d forget. Before he can even tell you that he’s lost his pencil for the third time this week, you’re pressing one into his hands with a skeptical eyebrow raise that asks, anything else? He’s like a little puppy that you look after when no one else will. 

With Nobara, he’s seen you often calling her when she’s alone in a taxi and she texts you that the driver is being weird. You stay on call with her, purposely raising your voice loud enough for the driver to hear you ask repeatedly, “Where are you? When are you getting here? We’re all waiting for you.” You always wait on her text that tells you she’s reached home safe before your shoulders loosen and you feel some of the tension leave you. 

Before Megumi goes out, you’re over at his house, fussing over his clothes (the same ones he wore a day ago), his hair (that never seems to settle, no matter how much gel or hairspray you use), his face. You pinch his cheeks, tell him to go wash his face again because he still looks half-asleep, toss him a rose-scented lotion tube, straight from your bag, and insist that he keep it. You completely baby him. 

And when the four of you go out for lunch, more often than not, it’s you who orders for the rest of them, Megumi tagging along sometimes, if only to insist on paying. You half-listen to their conversation, half-wonder when the food will arrive. And when it finally does, you’re the first to urge them to start: handing them their utensils, breaking apart their chopsticks, and reminding them to eat well. 

You’re used to looking after others and putting their needs before your own, as the eldest daughter of your family. Megumi is overprotective as well, but he’s also hyper-independent, used to caring for himself without anyone else. Around you, he always finds his demeanor molding, softening—he acts more spoiled, more sulky, almost as if he’s trying to catch your attention, to make you fuss over him. And you do. You always indulge him, though he’s sure you can see right through his act. 

You’re laughing at something Yuuji says when you notice him looking at you, as if he’s seeing you in a new light. You hold your corn dog up to him, a sweet smile on your face.

Megumi blinks, ears reddening, as he shakes his head. “N-no, I wasn’t—“

“Have some. It’s good,” you insist, and he can’t refuse you.

So he leans forward in his seat, his thigh brushing against yours—he shouldn’t feel so flustered by that action, right? But you’re still wearing his snapback on your head and it looks ridiculous on you, oversized and just barely hanging onto your head. 

Sharing clothes or accessories isn’t new between the two of you either, nor are brief touches like his leg against yours. For some reason, he’s starting to feel hyper-aware of his every movement around you in a way that he doesn’t feel around Nobara, or even Yuuji. 

Often, when the four of you have sleepovers or movie nights, typically held at Megumi’s house (he’s always playing host, but he’s grateful that you help out by always arriving an hour earlier with bags of snacks. Gojo adores you for that reason alone), you don’t shy away from physical touch. You’ve fallen asleep on his arm more times than he can count, laid your legs in Yuuji’s lap while the four of you argue over which movie to watch, and squeezed Nobara’s hand throughout countless horror movies. 

And yet… Your thighs brushing through your jeans as he leans close is somehow the most intimate feeling he’s had since his kindergarten crush had hugged him tight on the playground in front of his friends. 

You hold your corn dog up to his mouth and he takes a bite, relishing in the stretch of mozzarella as you pull the snack away from him with a laugh. He keeps his eyes locked on your lit smile, unaware of Yuuji and Nobara’s troubled gaze trained on him.

You’re like the sun; wherever you go, you shine so bright, making him want to reflect you: he can’t help smiling back. 

Sharing food has never been a big deal between the four of you—well, three of you. Before you had found them and became involved in their little friend group, Megumi used to firmly refuse to drink from the same bottle as Nobara or eat from the same spoon as Yuuji, on account of “hygiene”, he claimed. Then you’d stumbled and tripped right into their world and the easy way you’d steal Yuuji’s gatorade from right under his nose and take a sip or share a bite of the cake pop you’d brought for lunch with Nobara had been enough to make him loosen up too, just enough. Eventually, he’d forgotten about that little rule, all because of you, with no shortage of teasing from Yuuji and Nobara.

He drinks from the same glass as you when you’re over at his house, and when you find yourself parched at school, he’s the first to offer to run to the convenience store and back in time for your first period class, Chemistry, which you share with him. The two of you often pass the drink back and forth in class and he tosses it out afterwards when you walk out together, complaining about the homework or the in-class lesson. 

Although, he wonders absentmindedly, if you’re eating from the same spoon as him or sipping from the same can from him, can that be counted as… an indirect kiss?

His eyes are inexplicably drawn to your glossy lips as you beam at him and put together a string of words that flies right over his head. What if he leaned forward, just a little? The sparkles on your lips are illuminated by the warm lighting of the restaurant and he finds himself musing about the flavour of your gloss. 

Cherry, perhaps? He’d like cherry. Or even strawberry might be nice, sweet and sugary, he thinks. Anything would do, if it was you. 

You call his name again, snapping him out of his daze, and he stammers, “W-what?”

You giggle, tucking his snapback onto his head and covering his face. Why doesn’t he have a voice recording of that precious laugh of yours? “Idiot. I was asking if it was good!”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, it’s great,” he mumbles dazedly with no idea of what you’re talking about as he adjusts his hat.

He blinks, trying to clear the fog in his head as you wait expectantly, ignoring Yuuji and Nobara’s snickers in the background. 

“I-it was really good. The corn dog, I mean,” he clarifies, gaze dipping to your lips again. “I liked it. But… Lunch is on me next time.”

You snort, looking satisfied with his answer. “Lunch is always on you. Pigs won’t start flying if you let me pay for your meal once.”

Megumi has what you call textbook manners when it comes to things like this; he’s overly stiff, overly formal. He can’t remember the last time he’d let any of you pay for him without returning the favour. It’s more than just a matter of his pride and ego (though that certainly plays a hand.) It’s the fact that he can’t fathom depending on any of you like that. He can’t accept this level of warmth or care without his mind whispering that it’s only a matter of time before you’ll all leave, just like his father, just like his mother. 

He exhales deeply and pops open the can of Coca-Cola that you bought him. The bubbles hiss and fizzle before settling down. As soon as they do, he slides the can towards you with a jerk of his head: an order to take the first sip. 

You give him an indulgent smile and follow his instructions, leaving behind a mauve stain on the can. Then, you push the can towards him with the same head jerk motion that he gave you. He resists the temptation of giving in to your antics and smiling as a result. 

You’re messing with his head, he groans silently. He’s never going to be the same after this. More than that, he thinks, glancing towards Nobara and Yuuji who observe him with matching knowing looks, the two of them are never going to let him live this down. 

Maybe you don't know it yet, but Megumi is yours.

comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[irisintheafterglow]

No Prey, No Pay (opla!zoro x you)

summary: after steering him to a successful bounty, zoro can't stop thinking about you. he decides to do something about it. (Part 2 to Parley)

wc: 1.67k

cw/tags: domestic zoro crumbs, idiots in love but they don't know how to express it, canon-typical violence, zoro is so himbo i love him

note: thank you for all the love on my first two zoro posts!!!! i'm so so so happy y'all liked them; this is one of the first times in a while i've actually been super giddy writing a character. i really hope he's not too ooc, i tried to keep his himbo-ness intact. hope you enjoy!!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

“Here to try killing me again?”

“Oh,” is all he can sputter out, frozen on the doorstep of the Lady’s manor. The stout, shriveled old woman before him was not who he was looking for. To make matters worse, the flower he’d picked from the hillside on his way up the driveway suddenly seemed like a gargantuan beanstock in his fingers. His face was warming but, for the life of him, he could not figure out why. “You’re not–”

“Nope. They’re in the Farmers’ Market,” she deadpans without hesitation, eyeing him with all the amusement of a PhD candidate reading a children’s book. “The Farmers’ Market I created, by the way.” 

“Right,” he replies shortly, turning abruptly on his heel and letting his eyes widen in pure horror when she can’t see his face. He tosses the flower into a nearby planter, well aware that she can still see his every move. After several misguided attempts to navigate back to your isolated piece of land in the East Blue, he approached the ornately decorated door with a little more excitement than he expected. Having the Lady whom he’d tried to kill a few weeks prior be the one to open the door was another funny twist of irony that caused him an odd feeling of embarrassment, like he’d dropped you off after a date ten minutes past your curfew. “Thank you for your time.” 

“Tell me, pirate hunter,” she called to his back patronizingly. “Why grace us again with your oh-so-menacing presence?” 

“I’m wondering the exact same thing,” he mutters, irritated at his failed attempt to find you on the first try. 

“When you find them, tell them to pick up more sweet potatoes. I thought we had enough for dinner, but we could use a few more now that you’re here,” the Lady instructs him and her words take a few seconds to register in his mind. But, by the time he’s turned around to ask her what she meant, the door is already shut and he’s too proud to knock again. 

As if the mortification on your porch wasn’t enough, it’s nearly impossible to find you in the milling swarms of people in town. The people part naturally for him as he passes, sneaking anxious glances at the three swords on his hip. Whispers of his occupation and intentions float around his ears but he pays them no mind, determined to spot you. Again, he wasn’t sure what he was doing there in the first place; but, no matter what anyone else said, he did know one thing. By some unexpected turn of Fate, he missed you. 

“Shopping for produce while you hunt? I didn’t know you could multitask.” The teasing lilt of your voice appears behind him and he can’t help smirking. You’d found him before he found you, even though it was his job to find people. “Word to the wise: the vendors will upcharge you because they know you’re not from the island.” 

“What if you’re there with me?” When he finally turns to face you, his eyes flick to the canvas bag slung over your shoulder. It’s stuffed with fruits and vegetables, along with a jar of honey from the beekeeper just up the road from your house. 

“They’ll upcharge you more and insist you pay for my stuff,” you reply nonchalantly. “Now that I think of it, maybe we should walk around together.” You brush past him and re-enter the bustling square like he was the last thing on your mind, when really he was the only thing for the past week. You’re certain he’d follow behind you and your theory is confirmed when his voice comes from over your right shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

“You’re wearing the bracelet,” he observes, easily slipping into place next to you as if it was natural to be by your side. With the sword-clad bounty hunter next to you, it was much easier to navigate the market without bumping every resident of the island. 

“Mhmm, I told you I liked it,” you say absentmindedly, stopping at a stand and picking up a vibrantly colored fruit from the stack. Observing it for bruises and finding none, you signal the seller that you’d like to buy the piece in your hand. His farm-worn hand stretches out to you and you fish around in your bag briefly for coins. But, before you can place the money in his hand, Zoro’s fingers are already dropping an unnecessarily large quantity into the shocked farmer’s palm. You gape at him and his unchangingly blank expression, shaking your head in disbelief when he glances at you, eyes shining arrogantly. “Where’d you get all that money and why did you do that?” 

“Bounties,” he answers plainly, “and ‘cause I wanted to. Next stand?” You’re still slightly frozen from pure surprise, but he shrugs carefreely and tilts his head toward the rest of the vendors.

“Feel like enlightening me on why you’re here again?” It’s the fourth or fifth stand he’s accompanied you to and, at this point, you were just window-shopping. Since he joined you on your errand, you hadn’t spent any more money; before you could pay any of the sellers, they were already thanking you profusely for your generosity with a pile of shining coins in their hands. Zoro proved to be a very patient companion, respectfully giving his opinions on which piece of produce looked bigger or more appetizing. With most of the required items on your shopping list successfully in your bag, you find yourself drifting over to the stalls of mundane things like pretty flowers and colorful crystals. 

“There’s a Marine defector turned intelligence smuggler hiding somewhere in the area. Thought I’d knock out two birds with one stone.” You turn over a piece of aventurine in your fingers, admiring it from different angles in the sunlight. Your breath hitches slightly when Zoro’s face dips down next to yours, watching the crystal from the same angle. 

“What’s the other bird?” You glance at him from the corner of your eye. 

“Visiting you,” he replies without hesitation, plucking the crystal from your fingers and tossing more coins at the vendor. You don’t stop the laugh that escapes your mouth and you swear his smirk gets more self-assured as he drops the rock into your bag. At a point when you aren’t looking, he swings your bag onto a broad shoulder as easily as if it was a piece of paper. “Also, we need sweet potatoes.” Your eyebrows raise in amusement at his slip. 

“We?” You have to fight down another giggle when his face becomes slightly pinker, imperceptible if you weren’t already staring at him. “Since when were we anything?”

“Your boss said she needed more sweet potatoes. Don’t shoot the messenger.” 

“I wasn’t aware that you went to go see her.”

“I wasn’t either, and then she opened the door instead of you,” he admits and you chuckle at his expression of distaste. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have–get behind me.” Before he can finish his thought, his arm shoots out in front of you, effectively halting you a split second before a knife darts across your vision, embedding itself into the wooden post next to you. The surrounding market-goers break into chaotic panic and you have no choice but to press your back against Zoro’s to prevent getting swept away. Emerging from the crowd, a lethal-looking group of fighters encircle you two and your hand finds the hilt of your saber. 

“Pirates?”

“No. Bounty hunters.”

“Friends of yours?” You eye the group warily as the marketplace empties, people running into the nearest building they could find to spectate the upcoming battle. 

“I’d call them ‘occupational competition’ on a good day.”

“Ah, great,” you huff sarcastically. “What’d you do to piss them off?”

“Exist,” he deadpans and you hum in assent. 

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” you mutter and you start to pull your blade from its sheath, anticipating the fight ahead of you.

“Don’t.” The single word halts your movements and your stomach drops in fear of what he’s sensing.

“What?”

“Let me handle this,” he says in a low tone that makes your skin break into goosebumps. “Can you hold the bag while I deal with them?”

“You sure?”

“Yep. This won’t take long,” he says irritatedly, scowling at the rival hunters that interrupted his day.

“Alright. I’m gonna go get sweet potatoes, then.”

“Third one down on the left. I’ll meet you over there,” he promises before moving faster than you can comprehend, whirling and downing the two attackers in front of you without even drawing his swords. They howl in pain when you stab your blade into their feet for good measure before leisurely making your way further down the street. As you walk, Zoro clears the path for you, mercilessly incapacitating every enemy with ease. By the time you find the sweet potato stall, there’s only one persistent fighter still giving the swordsman problems. You don’t feel any ounce of fear, however, as you pick through the salvageable gourds while the clashing of swords rings out behind you. Eventually, the street quiets and Zoro returns to your side as if nothing happened at all. “Good?”

“I’m fine,” you say truthfully, running your thumb over the bruise of an otherwise good potato. “You think this one’s still okay?” After peering at it and deeming it safe, he nods.  

“Yeah, it should be fine. If anything, you can just cut off the ugly spot.” There’s a splattering of red just under his eye when you meet his gaze. Your fingers unconsciously come up to wipe the speck of blood from his cheek and his skin feels just as electric as the first time you touched him. 

“Cool. I’m done shopping then, so we can go back home.”

“We?”

“You’re staying for dinner. It isn’t a request,” you command lightheartedly and smile when his steps fall into line next to yours. 

“Mmm, I can’t wait.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 致命游戏 / The Spirealm.

The Spirealm is a 2024 drama about two young men who fall in love while basically playing a whole bunch of horror-themed escape rooms that can for-real kill you.

This show/book combo has gripped my entire ass. The second I knew I wanted to watch this, almost immediately after it started airing, I muted the tag. I was so right to do this, because this is worth not spoiling yourself about. If you are a Guardian fan in particular, you owe it to yourself to watch this for reasons I think will become clear as you go about watching it.

So! If all you need to know is that I think you need this show in your life, great! You don't even need to scroll down to the end of the post for the links; go to Viki and press play. In case you need more convincing than that, though, I'm going to give you here five reasons to watch it that are as spoilerless as I can make them.

Before we start, though, I'm going to take a moment to note that I had to torrent the video files so I could make screenshots of my own, and if I hadn't, this would have been a much uglier rec post than the others I've done. Not only were there not many promotional materials or official stills released, the show itself barely stayed up two hours on iQiyi, and that's because this drama is a...

1. (Barely) Censored Adaptation Of Same-sex Original Work

Ah, you know that MyDramaList tag well, don't you? Yeah, the original novel, Kaleidoscope of Death (which has a rec post of its own!), is supernatural story about grief and loss built on the love story between the two male leads. Now of course you know already that a mainstream Chinese television adaptation of something like that is going to straighten up everything and turn the horror romance into the sci-fi platonic love of besties.

...But damn, folks, it's still real gay.

Ling Jiushi, the sweet-faced newbie, is a canonical virgin and loving cat dad who plays the mysterious video game once, then finds himself suddenly able to enter the game worlds bodily -- and of course, if you die in the game, you die in real life. He's pretty much doomed, until he meets...

Ruan Lanzhu, the cool-as-a-cucumber veteran of the door worlds, who falls pretty much immediately for the completely oblivious Ling Jiushi, then has to spend the rest of the series consumed with lust while trying to keep him and a couple other dipshits alive.

The show preserves so many overtly gay beats and declarations of affection from the novel, to the point where it's just this side of suggesting that the romance is actually, textually happening just offscreen, every time the camera cuts away. I am forever grateful that working with Zhu Yilong on Reunion seems to have perfected sweet baby Junjie's ability to look at a man with nothing but love in his eyes.

I adore so much the dynamic they have, one where a man who has never told the truth a day in his life encounters a man so sincere and naive that you cannot seduce him with anything but absolute honesty or he's never going to get it.

There are three (3) separate door worlds where they share a bed, and in every one of them, they both sleep with their shoes on. Like the absolute freaks they both are.

2. It's puzzle solvin' time!

So if you've read some of my rec posts before, you know that I am critical of stories that center around cases that are unfollowable, uninteresting, or both (e.g., Mysterious Lotus Casebook and White Cat Legend). I am therefore thrilled to tell you that the door worlds are actually (largely) thoughtful mysteries with reasonable solutions, where you care about what's happening and why.

The way each door world is set up is that you have to solve the puzzle to find a key and unlock the door that will let you leave. One of the challenges is each world's door ghost, who has the key and does not want to give it up. The other challenge is the world-specific set of taboo conditions, where violating them means the door ghost can kill you -- and you are not always told what those taboo conditions are. That means that solving a door involves 1) figuring out what will insta-kill you, 2) not doing that, 3) finding where the hell the exit door is, 4) placating and/or scamming the door ghost long enough to snatch the key from them, and 5) running like hell to the exit door with that key before the door ghost fucks you up about it.

As the show goes on, you get introduced to the concept of door-passing shepherds, which are experienced door-finishers who take through lower-level players, building them up in the process. A lot of these shepherds work for organizations, such as the one Ruan Lanzhu runs. And a lot of them are ready to reach the exit by climbing over everyone else's corpses.

That's part of the fun of the setup: You're not just thrown in alone. You show up with a random number of other players, some with very different levels of experience. At least one of you will make it out; not everyone will. So you can add a step 6) to the list above, which is: surviving all the other players who will gleefully stab you in the back in order to be the first player out the door.

The door worlds are also lovely. They all feel like sets -- and I know that's a weird thing to say about places that are literal sets, but they manage it feel it even on film. In fact, even the show's uses of clunky-ass greenscreen feel appropriate, because of how unreal everything is supposed to be. Everything looks like a dream, which is only amplified by how beautifully everything's shot.

(What's that you say? You say the guy who directed this was the editor on Infernal Affairs? No kidding.)

From a fandom perspective, what's great here is that even though there are technically just twelve doors, there are canonically way more than twelve door worlds out there. That means that whatever worlds you want to create are valid. The best pieces of fanfic I've read are the ones that dream up their own door worlds, complete with taboo conditions, key puzzles, and world-specific perks that lead to gay sex, because come on.

3. A good middle ground of horror

So at this point you are perhaps wondering: How scary is it?

And the answer is, kind of as scary as you're willing to let your mind go with it. Everything has been science-fictioned real hard, including the video game premise that "explains" what's happening with these doors. It relies on dread way more than jumpscares. The blood/gore/gross content is extremely low, again on account of Chinese content censorship. Most icky things are done with offscreen sounds and shadows. I'm pretty squeamish about pain and injury, and I can't recall a time I had to look too long away from the screen.

However, that means the show works some real conceptual horror. That picture up there is of a man forcing three young girls to hold raw eggs unbroken in their mouths. There's nothing about that image that's not technically G-rated, and it's awful in context.

The best bits are when the monsters don't need a lick of CG to become horrors. They cast a contortionist in the Waverly Hills door world, and she absolutely earned her keep.

I have a lot of critiques about how the show handles things, especially in terms of defanging the horror elements (which it does), but one thing I think it absolutely gets right is that it understands that ghost stories are first and foremost tragedies. That's a thing I've always liked about Asian horror in particular, how often you wind up siding with the ghost. Yes, sure, she tried to strangle you with her hair, but have you ever considered she's the real victim here? There's always a bit of a calculus: Can you negotiate with the door ghost, or do you just need to stab them and run? The Spirealm prefers negotiation, and frankly, so do I.

So yeah, it's about as scary as you let it be. If your horror tolerance is low, watch it in a well-lit room and focus on the unreality of it, and you'll be okay. If you're looking for something genuinely spooky, spend some time thinking about the existential dread of the entire situation, and that'll be good for a couple good spine tingles.

4. The Obsidian Family (& Friends!)

In a show where death is always an option, you have to have characters where you actually care if they live or die. Fortunately, all your allies are charming and loveable enough that you are going to be real upset every time they get put in danger!

Obsidian is one of the organizations I mentioned earlier. It's run by Ruan Lanzhu, and it includes a cool and collected doctor, a mom friend who cooks for everybody, a guy who's maybe not having the best mental health day of his life, and two identical twins who could not be more different if they tried. They all live in the same amazing big fancy house, which is where Ling Jiushi too goes to live when he joins the group. They have big family meals, they look after one another, they hang out together -- I mean, if this is the kind of setup you love, then you will love this setup.

There are also plenty of allies who aren't technically part of Obsidian, but who are our friends nonetheless, and who come over to hang out in the Obsidian house from time to time. Some of them are rivals turned friends, some of them are clients turned friends, and some of them were just friends all along! Surely nothing bad will happen to any of them, and they'll all live happily ever after, right? ...Right?

5. Toast and Chestnut!

Of course, the true heroes of the show are Toast the Corgi and Chestnut the Kitty.

Animals are so good.

Truly, I love that one of Ling Jiushi's defining characteristics is that he is a Cat Dad. He is a simple man with simple needs, and one of those needs is to pet his kitty or he'll explode.

caveat: Some thoroughly bad adaptation choices

Yeah, so I keep talking about the novel (and talk even more about the novel in its own rec post), but I assure you, you don't need to have read the novel to feel the degree to which this is an adaptation -- and one that's had its rough, nasty, spooky, gay edges all sanded off in the desperate hope of ever seeing daylight.

Now, sometimes I consider batshit nonsense janky creative decisions to be a selling point for a show (see: Mysterious Lotus Casebook, Legend of Fei, Sand Sea)! In this case, however, I'm going to have to take points off for how incoherently bad they are here. We're talking Psych-Hunter levels of Why Would You Do That-- and the answer, as always, comes down to how you write around what censorship won't allow on television.

The novel says the doors are supernatural. The show says they're a virtual-reality computer game. Now, on the surface, this move sort of makes sense -- you can't have ghosts, but you can have computer games that make digital ghosts, which, sure, okay. But then the problem quickly becomes that the plot of the novel is not remotely built to support a sci-fi premise, so a lot of things have to be grafted awkwardly on. Like, say, a bad guy who stole his corporate logo from Even Worse Twitter. Or a game-designing bestie whose face is never seen. Or [late-stage spoilers about a major character].

The eventual explanation is that this whole setup is a righteous and good game that has somehow been corrupted by evil game-designing capitalists from the West, and that's why it can abduct you in broad daylight and kill you if you fail it. There are good people who want to purify (???) the game, and evil people who want to make money off the game. And I don't mind spoiling you for that part, because it's garbage nonsense. You will be deeply unsatisfied with the show's half-assed attempt at resolving it all. (You may, however, have that disappointment tempered with the amazing concurrent display of heterosexuality that is apologizing to your best bro by coding his perfect man for him. The Spirealm is a land of contrasts.)

Look, I consider myself a mild to moderate socialist, and even I was yawning and making jerk-off motions every time someone started to wax halfheartedly poetic about how evil American capitalism is. Like, yeah, but not because some college student made a vile and wretched video game that eats people! This show is a critique of capitalism like a five-year-old crying because he doesn't get ice cream before bed is a critique of authoritarianism.

And even this, I can't be too mad at it about, you know? I just assume that this was some absolute Hail Mary attempt at getting past censorship -- you know, maybe if we make all the right "grr, USA bad!" noises, they'll let our gay ghost story slip by? And it worked! I mean, just barely, but it did.

So yeah, fair warning that the Spirealm is a show that, if you love it (and I do), you will have to love despite some glaring flaws that haunt it all the way through and hit especially hard during what should otherwise have been an amazing endgame. But hey, we're c-drama fans! We're good at loving janky things, right?

Want to enter the World of Doors?

As I said at the start of the post, Viki's got it -- and only Viki. I'm not sure what circumstances got it up on Viki after iQiyi pulled it, but I'm glad. Watch it quick, before Viki changes its mind!

Hug him! Hug that boy!

[ominous-feychild]

✦ MY WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION ✦

Hey! I've been here for a while and I've somehow amassed a shocking amount of followers and mutuals, so I figured it's finally time for me to force one of these out for you guys!

(And you know... a masterpost... when I get around to it. 😅😭)

About me:

✦ Barlowe (she/her)

✦ In my early 20s

✦ A writer of 10 years ✦ working on novels for 6 of 10!

✦ Less dedicated to—but still interested in!—drawing, animation, photography, and cinematography

✦ AuDHD and a grey lesbian (aka I'm leaning asexual) ✦ (my writing may or may not be a special interest)

✦ I have a whole bunch of other neurodivergencies besides AuDHD but I don't think y'all want me to get into all of them, haha. ✦ oh, and I say "haha" a lot. I apologize in advance.

✦ I think I'm hilarious and make jokes constantly

✦ I use a lot of emojis and tone tags to help convey tone. Please forgive me if it's annoying, it's to cope with my inability to communicate. /lh /hj

Masterlists:

✦ General ✦ Worldbuilding ✦ Sun and Shadow ✦ The Arcane Rifts ✦ Rising From the Ashes

(will be added eventually)

My Obsessions:

✦ Fantasy, horror, mystery, action, and exploration of realistic characters' reactions to the things they go through.

✦ Fairy tales, mythology, and folklore

✦ "Ye Olde History" and language

✦ DIVERSITY!!!

✦ Explorations of "evil-coded" characters and abilities--aka, not just showing them as evil. Show them as people (for characters) and tools (for abilities)!

✦ Traumatizing my characters just like I've been

✦ Traumatizing my characters in ways I haven't been!

✦ Learning!!!

✦ Talking way too much about the things I like to the point that I need to make a whole separate post to share it so it doesn't clutter my intro post... oh, hey, why is this linked?

✦ THE AESTHETIC!!!!

My Aesthetics:

Those who've been following me for a bit probably know that I adore "the aesthetic" and try to make my posts look nice... even if there's no real reason to besides that it gives me a little serotonin. Here's my favorite aesthetics!

✦ Starry; night sky ✦ Dawn / dusk ✦ Sunrise / sunset

✦ Nature! ✦ Forestry ✦ Cottagecore ✦ Rustic ✦ Ocean

✦ Literally all of them, please and thank you

My Writing:

✎ Sun and Shadow

Everything goes wrong for Freya Ula when she leaves her simple life as a fisherwoman to get engaged overseas. Her ship gets wrecked, she finds out her dad's been hiding secrets from her for her whole life, and, oh, she gets framed for a terrorist attack. Wait, WHAT!? After the city's greatest detective is attacked and disappears before she could consult with him, Frey has to enlist the help of his kid and her would-be fiancée to find out who framed her and clear her name. If only Crow was half as good a detective their dad was supposed to be.

Main characters: Freya, Crow, Daleira

✦ Urban-esque high fantasy ✦ purposely very tropey in places ✦ however, as always, I love throwing in curveballs. Wonder what's played straight and what I'm going to emotionally destroy you with. Definitely won't be Crow.

✦ Slow-burn romance between Frey and Crow ✦ immediate interest between Frey / Daleira ✦ oh, look, it's a love triangle? ✦ JOKE'S ON YOU, IT'LL ACTUALLY BE POLY ✦ it's just... going to take a while.

✦ Lesbians, lesbians everywhere ✦ though Crow is actually genderfluid and uses they/them for the first book ✦ despite barely having anything written I've already plotted a bit of book 2 ✦ I desperately need help.

✦ Unsurprisingly is a detective mystery with action mixed in ✦ I'm not typically a romance writer, I excel in action fantasy ✦ please have mercy on my soul

✦ Lots of magic, it's high fantasy + victorian aesthetic ✦ (aka "gaslamp fantasy" if you've heard of it) ✦ Frey's got sun-themed magic ✦ gasp, I know ✦ Crow's got shadow magic ✦ wonder why this sounds familiar ✦ Daleira's got, hm, well it's also shadowy! ✦ spoilers 😘

✦ About to be updated en-masse for a writing contest!!!

✎ The Arcane Rifts

Ghosts of past tragedies haunt the town of Kavo after decades of neglect. Fantastical creatures desiring nothing but fear and destruction hide in invisible tears in reality. Gangs and the police are at constant war with one another, there's a shapeshifting monster running amok, and the mayor's assistant suddenly wants a disabled orphan kicked to the streets. A year ago, Gene was discovered in the forest on the outskirts of town, half dead, amnesiac, and unable to even speak the local language. As he had nowhere to go, he was brought to the orphanage of Kavo for a place to stay. Now Caspar, the assistant of the mayor and the man who funds the orphanage, wants him kicked out. When Gene's left to the cold, cruel streets of Kavo on his own, he has to navigate through a town ravaged by decades of neglect and intrigue. Has the corruption truly been purged from the government? Why are godly forces active in Kavo, a small town in a backwater country? And most importantly--will Gene survive?

Main Characters: Gene, Tazin, Mislav, Ludmila, Rada ❧ Gene and Tazin for book 1 ❧ the other 3 start being MCs books 2 and 3 ❧ I guess Nikolai is also a MC tho

❧ Industrial-era rustic high fantasy ❧ mixes fantasy, action, horror, and mystery! ❧ oh helloooooo "ominous feychild" origin? ❧ very strong folkloric and traditional fantasy inspo ❧ except I mean "traditional fantasy" as in ❧ "we don't understand this magic stuff but we're used to it" ❧ not "travel the world adventures!"

❧ VERY involved story with strong themes of discrimination, poverty, exploitation, trauma, and the recovery from trauma ❧ each main and secondary character is one flavor of discriminated against or another in-universe ❧ obviously I try to write it respectfully, but you can't really write bigots being bigots "respectfully"

❧ Has two "main plots" going on simultaneously; technically three ❧ I periodically give the reader updated "character guides" ❧ like they get more recent plot info added kinda like a red-string board to keep you, the audience, up-to-date with info you might've otherwise missed ❧ I think it's really cool and people seem to enjoy it ❧ I know it seems like a lot but please give it a chance

❧ I've literally plotted out pretty much the entirety of the first and second books, and know most of how book 3 will go, yet there's very little out for the current version of the story ❧ part of that is because I'm paused on the 3rd draft

❧ There's lots of timeskips throughout the first two books, but they're mostly to age up the protagonists! Gene, the MC, starts the series at 7. I promise it's not a kid's story though.

❧ The "secondary MC", Nikolai, is the police chief investigating magical stuff going on at the same time. They tie in with the main story involving Gene, though won't appear to for a long while.

❧ The "golden child" series I love more than SaS; however it's on hiatus because I promised people to work on SaS first and SaS is more popular as a romance-focused story. :/ ❧ I would never be salty about that.

Taglist:

For everything: @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue

For Worldbuilding: @paeliae-occasionally @pluppsauthor @thelovelymachinery

For the Existentials: N/A

For the Avatars: @thelovelymachinery

For Sun and Shadow: @mysticstarlightduck @paeliae-occasionally

For the Arcane Rifts: @paeliae-occasionally

For Rising From the Ashes: N/A

For the Storm Avatars: N/A

For the Order Avatars: @thelovelymachinery

For the Magic Avatars: N/A

For the Fire Avatars: N/A

For the Water Avatars: N/A

To be tagged in tag games: @honeybewrites @aalinaaaaaa

Ask and ye shall be added

Divider by @cafekitsune

[pianostarinwonderland]

maybe skully isnt dead 🤯 [half copium half srs]

listen. ik ive been on copium for a while. ik we all are, ive seen twitter, tumblr, and everyone’s tags on my posts when they reblog

BUT PLS HEAR ME OUT. IM SO SERIOUS RN WHEN I SAY: if u wanna be technical about it, if u wanna stretch it out somehow, you can argue that the game never outright states that skully is dead, only that the skully we met was from hundreds of years ago.

“but mamsir pianostarinwonderland, how in the fuck can that be???? we HEARD that invisible kiss” LET ME COOKKKKKK 🔥🔥🔥 I SWEAR EVERYONE, I AM COOKING U JUST HAVE TO HEAR ME OUUUUUUUUUUUUUT— knocked out

Ok serious time, let me mansplain to you all the possibility of Skully being alive

Establishing first of all, Twst has kept Skully's nature vague

Simply put: we don't know if Skully is human. In his live 2D, Skully's ears are completely covered. Even in his illustration, we can barely see his ears. It's an interesting design choice. However, in his chibi (which wasn't revealed until Episode 5), we can see his ears aren't shaped like a fae, but are round like that of a human.

However, it's pretty hard to think he's human either, when we consider his "moshi, ne moshi" greeting in Episode 1 and its connection to the supernatural. Voiced, to be noted. Exactly what kind of creature he could be is currently unknown, but because this part was voiced, it's something we need to pay attention to at the very least.

In regards to his mortality, the only clue we're really given is Skully himself saying that he may never meet us except through Halloween, which implies a lifespan similar to a human or something similar. But Skully doesn't know how far into the future that the cast is from. Heck, does he even know of his nature?

Now, addressing that invisible kiss...

I feel like this is the main thing that told all of us that Skully is long gone. Heck, if you catch me in my right mind, I might just tell you that yeah, that should be enough proof that Skully is dead! Little signs from the dead such can manifest in similar ways to what Jamil and Leona sensed: hearing a kiss and feeling a kiss on your hand.

(unfortunately i'm not in my right mind so you're getting my dumb reasons why i'm arguing for otherwise)

However, if Skully is gone, I find it interesting that this is the way they decide to show it. We already know from the very first Halloween event that ghosts can manifest all year round in Night Raven College due to the high concentration of magical power in the area. Outside of that, they cannot be seen. If they really wanted to confirm with the audience that Skully is a ghost, they could have had him appear as such at the end, when they all returned to Night Raven College.

But they chose a scenario where people can draw a lot of conclusions from it: Is their senses getting fucked over as they wake up? Are they still reeling from the magic of the book? (though rationally, we know that Leona is not one to be easily stunned, so the first question is at the very least easy to dismiss)

I've also seen some people theorize that he's using invisibility magic during the invisible kiss scene. And well, while I find that funny, it makes me wonder if he could be some other kind of spirit that's not dead. Like an undead of some sort, which the residents of Halloween Town are. Heck, Azul's card line about Skully talks about how he seems to fit right at home with the Halloween Town residents. Again, we don't know Skully's true nature, but the possibility of him being a species that can turn invisible is interesting.

Moving on, we have what Dire Crowley stated about Skully

At the end of the event, Crowley tells us that he found Skully’s portrait while rummaging through the storage and shows it to us and the 11 boys who went inside the book

What he tells us is that Skully J. Graves is a NRC graduate from hundreds of years ago, before Crowley was Headmage. Note that he only was appointed for the position 100 years ago; the Skully we met is at least from around 200 years ago. During his NRC years, Skully got to share Halloween to NRC. It was a hit, and when he graduated, he spread Halloween all over the world in his travels.

I'd like to take a little detour first to discuss something that's been weighing on my mind: Some people have thought that Crowley is lying to us when he speaks about Skully and his achievements, but... I don't see why he would lie. For one, there is a decent chance that Crowley might not have gotten to see Skully. Even if he did, it's even more unsure if he was involved in Skully's affairs.

However, there's one main reason why I do think that Skully got to live a fulfilling life instead of facing an overblot that killed him or some other tragedy. I'd like to dedicate a longer post to this matter, but to make it concise, I think through Skully, Twst is starting to establish something new regarding their history. I think that historical teachings, folktales and stories, and rumors that are well-known tend to be lies or twisted truths. Whereas those that are obscure and not known are actually what occurred. Skully is called the King of Halloween who's done so much to spread the holiday to the world, yet not even NRC students, who should be the first to know considering that Skully is an alumna, know of him. Although there may be other reasons why that's the case, I like to think that at the very least, Skully's obscurity indicates that he did live the life he wanted and succeeded in working for a future that generations after him can enjoy.

Anyway, that actually isn't the main point of this section of the post, but I kind of want to air that out first. The main point is that Crowley only really said that Skully is a former NRC student from hundreds of years ago who traveled around the world to spread Halloween. But he never told us where he was buried or whether he saw his ghost roaming NRC. He never said anything about Skully being dead.

He probably said the hundreds of years ago bit, carrying the assumption that of course, Skully may have passed away. But we have to remember that we have long-living species in Twisted Wonderland. Fae that were students 200 years ago are very likely to be alive now. Crowley himself is a long-living creature, having been Headmage for 100 years. I think with that in mind, it's important for him to emphasize that Skully's gone if he really is. But he never mentioned it. Therefore, there is a good chance that Skully might just be somewhere else. That or Crowley just doesn't give a fuck where his alumni go, and I might be thinking too deeply about the absence of certain words. Honestly, that's a pretty good chance too.

Lastly, we have the scene where Jack Skellington gets shot down but survives it

Here's where it gets a bit more into speculation, but you're going to have to hear me out.

In the movie, Jack Skellington gets shot down by the military for impersonating Santa Claus. When the Halloween Townspeople watched it, they all despaired, and the mayor started declaring to all that Jack has been blown to smithereens and proclaimed him dead.

But that's not what happened: we find Jack landing on an angel's statue, alive and definitely not blown to smithereens.

And considering that Skully is still very much twisted from Jack Skellington... do you think the writers are pulling a similar move? Making us think that he's dead, just as the townspeople thought he was dead, only for us to learn eventually that he's alive.

This of course depends on what happens eventually in the sequel. From the way things are proceeding, what happened in the Lost in the Book with TNBC is events prior to the movie, and we could very well have the sequel be set during the movie events. (If you ask me, I kind of doubt that actually. I feel like Skellington got inspired by Skully's love for Halloween, enough to stay true to his identity as the Pumpkin King, which would mean the movie wouldn't happen the way we know it. So if anything, I feel like TNBC 2 would focus less on the actual movie and more on the side games where Oogie takes over Halloween Town and even kidnaps Santa and other people, but I admit, that's a stretch, especially considering that we will get Santa giving Halloween Town a taste of Christmas)

Of course, this post is really just to let some of my copium out. Rn, it's still safe to assume that yea, Skully's dead. And though I am coping hard for Skully to be alive, with the way Twst treats the dead, it's not exactly a bad thing. Ghosts continue to stay in NRC like they're living people. They honor the dead, and let the dead live among them. And even if he is in the afterlife and not stuck in the mortal plane, I have faith that Skully did live a fulfilling life that may have been forgotten but clearly changed the world. :'D

[tonydaddingham]

Hi! I saw your tags on a post talking about car trouble as one of the great good omens fics and I've put it on my tbr! I wasn't really active in the fandom after season 1 so I feel like I missed out on all the great fics. I know about Demonology and Slow Show and I know about others from Aziraphale'sLibrary from their classics tag. But I was wondering what your list would be, your list of what the best and greatest good omens fics are. I'm young, so I have time to read lol

GASPS I HAVE RECS COMING OUT MY EARS @queenofthearchipelago, BUCKLE UP KID💕

this will be a mixture of genres and a lot of them are well known so may well already be on the AL classic lists (but, well, theyre classics for a reason imo) but im just gonna dump them here; these are literally just off the top of my head so won't be very coherent/in order - i'll give the links and ratings, but will leave you to peruse the synopses directly (most will be human AUs, they're my particular favourites), just to save making what will be a huge post even longer!!!

Car Trouble (E)

Petrichor and Parchment (E)

Memory of Eden (M) (and its sequels - imo The heartbreak series of all time. i sob like a baby) (it's written pre-s1 release, so book!omens, but i find it relatively easy to re-imagine if tv!omens is how you imagine them too etc) (no seriously if i ever get any fic professionally bound into a physical book, it's this series)

For Want of a Seed (T) (and also a huge shout out to Right of It also by cassieoh but it's unfinished - ive had it open as a tab in my phone for like a year? in the fervent hope it'll be updated, which fair enough if it isn't!!! but it's beauuuutiful)

Stranger in Paradise (E)

Infernal Bodyguard (M)

Wicked Thing series (E) (and anything by phoenix_soar, frankly. just... damn🫠)

i then also want to shout out a couple of fics from some amazing people on tumblr here (listed in no particular order!) which you may have already seen? but definitely worth mentioning because they're similarly insaneeee:

Shoot to Thrill and Learning on the Job (both E) and tbh anything by @teddybearbutchh, otherworldly affinity for not only writing in general, she's so talented, but her smut is 🫠

How Do We Turn On The Light? (M) by @moonyinpisces is soooo good as a post-s2 fic, she's really captured how i personally imagine aziraphale and crowley to act after the feral domestic, i love her characterisation!

The Loophole (E) by @fellshish is a different take post-s2 but incredibly funny and the apology dance is. life changing

Chemistry (E) by @twilightcitysky, i simply revisit their works time and time again, but this one is a particular favourite!!!

and im sure there are some lovelies that might read this and want to add their recommendations too, or self promote???💕✨ but these are my faves, like i said, right off the top of my head!!!

[screamingcrows]

I am sadly not immune to all the talk of Veritas Ratio in a modern university setting... (Manu - I hope I can call you that - your posts are so sweet) pair that with the autumn mood and you get this;

tags: pure fluff, they're about to be dating your honor, modern university au

minors do not interact!

Veritas had been puzzled at first, while it wasn't exactly odd for you to be fidgeting with something during lectures, it was usually limited to a specific set of items: your water bottle, some form of pen (he had a spare of your preferred tucked away in his bag for the inevitable bad days where you'd had to leave your dorm in a hurry), or the keychain on your bag.

Whatever this new item to catch your attention was, your hand had practically been glued to the inside of your pocket for two weeks.

Conveniently hidden out of sight, forcing his hand.

He catches you at your usual autumn spot, at least it was last year, a fairly secluded bench sheltered from the elements by four old chestnut trees.

You jerk in surprise when he sits down next to you, and warmth blooms in his chest when you close the book in your hand and lightly smack the top of his head. Still, there's no real power behind it. Only one hand is holding the book after all.

"Your pocket," his gaze is momentarily drawn to a lone magpie rummaging through the first yellow leaves to bed the ground.

"My pocket?"

A sigh leaves his lips as you parrot his words, turning to look upon your face. Veritas thinks his heart might burst at the soft confusion etched into your features, so reminiscent of a delicately carved masterpiece and still containing so much that could never be conveyed through cold stone.

"Yes. You've been fiddling with something in your pocket for a few weeks. At first I assumed it was a loose thread, but it persisted through days regardless of your outfit," cool air caressed his cheeks as he breathed, carefully tuning his voice to your widening eyes, "naturally, I've grown curious as to the nature of that item."

Silence sweeps through the air, enough that Veritas can faintly hear the buzz of people closer to campus. What would normally be comfortable, has him shifting a bit. Too keenly aware of your downcast eyes, his hands find solace in adjusting his scarf.

It feels invasive when you pull your hand out, and he finds that perhaps this knowledge wasn't worth the price. But the words never make it from the tip of his tongue, not before you've opened your hand to reveal a single chestnut.

He blinks, the smooth brown reflecting what warm sunlight pierces the overhanging canopy.

You're already talking again, "-and I've just always grabbed one since that, it's just a silly tradition but I enjoy it and it's harmless and-"

"Would you tell me how, in detail?"

The way your shoulders slumped a little confirmed his theory, you'd been about to rile yourself up with nervous ramblings. Veritas turned towards you, leaning against the bench while you sought out words.

"The first thing you do is to gather the very first chestnut you lay eyes on," what else was there to do but oblige in the face of your expectant pause, "and then you whisper a wish to it."

Again, he obliges, wringing his nose at the faint scent of detritus that already clings to anything picked from the ground.

"Now you just, well you carry it with you, just like you carry a wish. And if the wish comes true, then you take it to a stream and throw it in after thanking it."

"And if it doesn't?"

Veritas notes with satisfaction how smooth the chestnut feels under his skin, and how pleased you look upon catching him shift it between fingers.

"Then you return it to the ground, bury it somewhere, and let it bloom when spring comes."

A charming sentiment, even if you kept waving your hands dismissively. There'd been no deeper meaning behind it, just a parent taking measures to keep little hands occupied.

It was sweet, the memories painting your eyes with colors he couldn't imagine never getting to see again. Time worked differently with you, it always did, and too soon did the evening air chill.

Several hours had passed, time that Veritas should have spent studying, had allocated in his schedule for completing at least two assignments. Yet he couldn't quite find it in himself to mourn.

"Here," he removed his scarf to bundle it around your neck, deft hands adjusting it to let you breathe, "you were shaking, maybe it's time to head inside?"

Something foreign drifted through your eyes and held him captive, leaning forward like this would make it so easy to-

Your lips were just as forgiving as your words, molding perfectly against his even in the brief moment before his mind caught up and he pulled back.

An apology was at the tip of his tongue, cheeks already heating up and mind thrown into a frenzy unrivaled by the most advanced calculations.

All thoughts of your friendship souring turned to dust when he saw you stand, throwing your chestnut as far towards the little lake nearby as you could.

Oh.

With a thundering heart, Veritas pocketed his own chestnut, unable to resist the urge to give it a little pat.

"Wait- you still have yours? Veritas what did you wish for?"

A laugh bubbled from his chest at your expression morphing from bliss to pure petulance, the sound sending flutters through his body, how rarely he could let go.

And always in your presence.

"Veritas! It's not funny, it would've been so romantic!"

He merely hummed, enjoying the fleeting heat of your skin as he brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "perhaps I wished for something less fleeting."