#or that a story they hold dear might end on a bad note for them

[the-blind-geisha]

Question for writers (and maybe webcomic artists too)

When you start a project to just relax, do you ever get to a point where the popularity (or growing popularity) of your project(s) becomes a bit overwhelming upon sharing it to the world?

Are you dragged down by reader expectations?

Worried they won't like what you have planned?

I am not sure if this is just me with age or what. I do know in the past popularity kind of destroyed my mental state. I sometimes deter myself from the thoughts of future ideas because my comment to myself is always:

What if it actually does well...?

And then when I see it doing well, I start to panic (weirdly). Because I really don't want to make anybody upset with my artistic choices. On top of that, I always worry I'll end up turning the story into a direction some people may not want.

I know it's not about them, it's about me, but some folks can be a bit... too attached to your worlds. Your characters. Everything. To a most unhealthy degree.

Do any of you experience this? If so, any tips on how to fight it? ^^"

I feel like I keep holding myself back from certain things all because of that worry. Or I walk away from projects trying to get into the heads of my readers, not wanting to disappoint them.

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 6)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: Harry is full of surprises including a package shipped to Y/N's home, shows cancelled due to the flu, and an unexpected visit.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5

Word Count: 4.8k

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There’s over five weeks between when you arrive home from Chigaco and when you finally have your doctor's appointment scheduled. The first week, you feel totally fine. Spending a full weekend with Harry, dropping in his presence, and being scented by him has completely taken care of your touch deprivation symptoms. Temporarily.

By week two the dizziness starts to creep up again. Then the itching, followed by the chills. No matter what you do, you just cannot seem to get warm. Towards the end of the third week, it’s starting to become unbearable. You’re constantly exhausted and shaky and just so cold.

Even though you have been talking to Harry almost every day, you haven’t told him how bad the depri has been getting. Part of you still hasn’t gotten over your pride. It’s difficult to admit that you need help just due to your biology. The other part of you doesn’t want to worry him. You know how busy he is and the last thing you want to do is add another stressor.

Even without you saying anything, the alpha seems to sense that you’re struggling. Just as it’s getting really bad a package arrives at your door. It’s a huge box and when you open it you find it filled with a number of smaller, sealed bags.

There’s a note on top, handwritten by Harry, that reads:

Dear Y/N,

I hope you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other. I know you still haven’t been able to get new soothers yet and I was worried your touch deprivation symptoms might be bothering you again. I remember you saying that nesting doesn’t help much without other scents present.

I’ve scented a number of materials for you. Sarah has as well, in case it’s better to have a variety. The bags will trap the scent in, which is why I’ve separated the materials into a few different bags. You can open each as you need more, and they’ll hold on to our scents longer.

I know nesting is very private for omegas, so don’t feel like you need to report back if it worked or not, though I’m always here to listen if you’d like to talk about it.

Sincerely Yours,

Harry

It’s late-afternoon and you’ve already finished your work for the day, so you start looking at the labels on the bags. There are blankets, shirts, sweatshirts, hats, scarves, stuffed animals. Anything you could want to make a perfect nest.

Suddenly you’re hit with an overwhelming desire to build a nest, something you’ve never felt before. There’s a section of your room between the bed and the wall that will be the perfect spot. It’s cozy, tucked away from the rest of the apartment, and the large windows let it sunlight for most of the day.

The first thing you do is vacuum the carpet, needing it to be perfectly clean in order to begin the project. Next, you grab the old twin mattress out of your basement storage space, grateful that you hadn’t thrown it away when upgrading to a queen-sized bed. It fits perfectly in the spot you’ve chosen, and you take out your own spare comforters and blankets for the base. Since they’ll be covered in scented objects you figure you’ll save the scented blankets for another time.

After the base is made you get stuck. You’ve never successfully nested before, and you’re unsure where to begin.

It’s a frustrating feeling. You’re an omega, nesting should be second nature to you.

Before you can spiral too deep, you call Harry who immediately answers with a “Hi there, love. How are you?”

Just hearing his voice is enough to calm you and stop the spiral.

“Hi,” you reply. “I’m good. I got the package you sent. Thank you for everything.”

“Of course. I hope it helps.”

“I uhm, I’m trying to build a nest.”

“That’s wonderful!” He sincerely replies.

“Emphasis on trying,” you say. He’s quiet for a moment, giving you time to explain further. “I’ve got the base, but I’m stuck now. I have no clue where to put everything else. And I feel like a lousy omega because I should just know how to do it, right?”

“Not at all, sweetheart. First of all, you could never be a lousy omega. But there might be a bit of a disconnect between you and your inner omega. You’ve been on suppressants for years, basically since you presented. Your instincts will come. You just need to be patient with yourself.”

You take in every word he says and a weight lifts off your shoulders.

“How do you always know what you say?” You ask with a laugh.

He laughs with you for a moment before his chuckles turn into coughs.

“You alright?” You ask.

“Yea, I’m good, just a little tickle or something,” he answers, voice slightly raspier than usual. “Listen, I have to go get ready for the show soon. I ordered you some food, it should get to your apartment in a little while. Take a break, relax, eat some dinner, and try again. Don’t overthink it, just start and see where it takes you, alright?”

“Okay. Break a leg tonight,” you reply.

“Thank you darling. Talk to you soon,” he says as he ends the call.

You take a quick shower while waiting for the food to arrive. This isn't the first time Harry’s sent you a meal. It’s his way of taking care of you even from across the country. The doorbell rings and you’re not surprised to see that he ordered your favorite Italian dish, reminding you how much he truly listens, and somehow seems to know what you’re craving before you do.

You do as he says and relax during dinner, watching an episode of your favorite comfort show. After you’re finished you decide to try again. You put on Harry's first album and grab one of the bags from the box. The note says it has two shirts, a sweater, and a scarf, all with Harry scent. You open it and his scent surrounds you. The task at hand no longer seems daunting, but rather exciting.

Over the next hour you construct a perfect nest, at least in your opinion. You’ve used materials from two bags of Harry’s and one of Sarah’s, as well as scenting a few materials of your own. The combination of smells is wonderful, absolutely soothing to your omega.

Possibly your favorite thing Harry sent is a new stuffed bunny, referencing the fact that you’ve compared him to a bunny rabbit on multiple occasions.

You’re cuddled in the best, new bunny in your arms, and you pull up your phone. It’s later than you thought, and Harry’s show will be starting soon. Lately you haven’t been able to watch many of his concerts due to the time change. But you decide to stay up late tonight and start a little bit later than usual tomorrow, fully taking advantage of the freedom you have for your job.

Everything starts normally but you notice a change in Harry’s demeanor about halfway through. His voice starts getting raspier, he’s turning his head to cough and clear his throat more often than usual, and he generally just seems a bit off.

That coughing earlier was definitely not just a simple little tickle.

You give him thirty minutes after the show ends to get home and shower before you FaceTime him. He answers immediately and says, “What are you still doing awake?” His voice sounds even worse than before.

“I was watching your show,” you answer.

“So you saw how shit I was?”

This is what you were afraid of. This is why you stayed up even later to talk to him. Because you knew he’d be beating himself up even though he’d obviously pushed through pain to give the very best concert he could.

“Harry, no, you absolutely were not shit. I won’t lie, you sounded a little croaky when you spoke, but the songs sounded perfect. You still put on an excellent show. How are you feeling?”

“Well, I’m upset for starters. But physically I kind of feel like garbage. My throat burns, my body’s aching, and I’m exhausted.”

“You need to rest, Harry. Give yourself time to get better.”

“I know that you’re right, but it’s hard. There’s always something that needs to be done,” he says with a sad, small voice that nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s not healthy to push yourself too hard. You need a break or it’s only going to get worse.” Your voice is laced with concern, as you practically plead with him to take care of himself. You’ve gotten to know him well over the past few weeks and you’re fully aware of his tendency to overwork himself, and his habit of putting everything before himself and his health. He’s explained that it’s a holdover from his early experience in the music industry and how hard management pushed him and the other boys when they first started. Since then, it’s been hard to change his mentality on the issue.

He nods without saying anything, and you take it as a win; albeit a small one. At least he’s willing to agree that he needs to take it easy. You can only hope that he actually will.

“Where are you?” he suddenly asks. “I don’t recognize your background.”

You smile and blush before replying, “I’m in my nest.”

“You are? It worked? How to do feel?” There’s a definite change in his attitude now, excitement rather than despair.

“It worked. Thank you again for the materials and the help earlier. I feel,” you pause for a moment to think before saying, “content. And safe.”

“I’m so happy to hear that. Truly just made me feel better knowing I could help you in some way.”

“I wish I could do the same for you.”

“You do. You help me. By calling, and talking me down from a spiral. And looking so cozy in your lovely nest.” Your cheeks warm again at the alpha complimenting the nest you worked so hard on. You feel proud to have made something that he approves of, especially with no prior experience. Suddenly thoughts of nests you can make for the two of you, maybe one day pups as well, force their way into your mind.

“I’m glad I could make you feel better,” is all you say in reply.

Your eyes meet for a moment, just simply taking each other in, before Harry finally says, “It’s pretty late here, and I know it is way past your bedtime. Get some sleep darling.”

“I will. Please, take it easy tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, love,” he replies with a soft smile.

“Good night Harry.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

You roll over, nose facing the wall of the nest, where Harry’s scent is strongest and you’re able to pick up on a hint of Sarah’s as well. Even though you’re worried about Harry, your surroundings have you calm enough to quickly fall asleep.

The next few days are difficult. Harry gets diagnosed with the flu and seems to just be getting sicker. He does everything he can to get better, but unfortunately ends up needing to postpone three shows while he continues to rest and get back to performance shape.

He’s upset and frustrated about the situation, and you spend much of those days texting and talking on Facetime to reassure him that no one is mad at him. While you agree that they might be a bit disappointed, you remind him that his true fans care about him and wouldn’t want him to push himself too far.

One week of rest does him a world of good. It’s obvious at his next show, exactly seven days later, that he has made a full recovery. You stay up again to watch the very beginning of the concert and fall into a peaceful sleep knowing that Harry is back in full health and back to doing what he loves.

Another week after that Harry’s finished his US residencies and it’s finally time for your doctor’s appointment.

As much as you’ve been looking forward to being seen and having your problem fixed, you’re incredibly nervous going in. You hadn’t been able to speak to Harry that morning as he was traveling and you’re more anxious than you expected to be.

Your doctor is a lovely beta woman who doesn’t bat an eye when you lay your sweatshirt next to you on the bed during the exam. You’d pulled it out of one of the bags that morning specifically to have Harry’s scent with you, and since you had to change into a patient gown this is the next best option. It works in keeping you calm as she goes through the rather invasive checkup.

After the physical exam is over she leaves so you can change before discussing what she found. Once you’re dressed the nurse leads you to her office and you sit across from her at the desk.

“First of all,” she begins. “I want to assure you that you’re perfectly healthy.” You breathe a sigh of relief at that, not even realizing that you’d been at least a little concerned that something was wrong.

“It seems we were right in assuming that you’ve developed a tolerance to your medication regimen. You were on a fairly high dosage so unfortunately it won’t be as simple as switching to different meds. You’d likely start having these same problems within just a year or possibly a couple of months.”

You listen closely, hanging on to every word even though you’re worried about where this is headed.

“What I would like to have you do,” she continues, “Is go completely off the medications for six months. This will allow your body to basically reset. I won’t lie, it will be tough for a while, especially if you don’t have an alpha, but it will ensure that the meds will be completely effective for years to come once you start back up.”

“I’ve never been unmedicated before,” you quickly say, trying to communicate how unsure you feel about what she is saying.

“Why don’t I tell you what you can expect during this time?” She asks and you nod, wanting as much information as possible.

“If you don’t have an alpha, then you’ll likely experience touch deprivation. It may be a little worse than what you’ve reported feeling recently, but I promise it will not be debilitating. It takes over a year for those symptoms to become severe. Nesting with objects that have been scented by an alpha will help with that. There are a couple of programs that can provide you with those materials if needed. I can give you the contact information.”

“No, thank you. I have a couple of alphas who have given me things. I’m sure they’ll be able to re-scent them for me if I ask,” you reply.

“Okay, wonderful. I’m glad you have some trusted alphas to help you. I urge you to accept help from them during this. It will make everything much easier for you and your inner omega. Now I know you like to hide your scent in public, which I completely understand given the way people tend to treat omegas. While you can’t take the oral scent blockers, the spray on kind is fine in moderation. I don’t recommend constant use though. And of course, being scented by an alpha is not only approved, but recommended.”

You smile slightly at this, thinking Harry would probably be happy with an excuse to scent you whenever possible.

“The last thing we need to discuss is heats. I have here that you’ve only experience two partial heats, correct?”

“Yes. My presentation heat, which lasted about a day, and then a two day heat a few months later before we landed on the right suppressant dosage.”

“Okay, you should experience two heats while off the medications. The first will be in about three months and will be similar to that last one you had. Shouldn’t last more than forty-eight hours and won’t be too intense. The second one should occur three months after that. This will be your first true heat and will last anywhere from four to seven days. It will also be more intense. I’ll give you some literature to read up on and some good sources to do research so that you can be prepared. After that second heat we’ll begin working out your new medicine regimen. Do you have any questions?”

Yea, you think to yourself, I have about a million questions. But no complete thoughts actually form in your brain, so you just reply, “No, I think I got everything.”

“Well, if anything does come up please reach out. I recommend email unless it’s something urgent since I have some time each day to sit and give a detailed reply, okay?”

“Got it.”

“Since you’ve already taken your meds today I’ll list tomorrow as the first day without them. You may start to feel a bit different within the next week.”

“Okay. Thank you so much,” you say as you both stand. She walks you out of the office and you part ways as she says, “Take care.”

You sit in your car for a moment as your mind spins with all the information you just received. When you finally feel focused enough to drive you wonder where to go next. You’d blocked the day off for this, knowing you probably would be too distracted to work at all after the appointment.

For a minute you debate stopping for a coffee on the way home. Getting a little treat after something unpleasant is like, a core part of girlhood.

But when you pull out of the parking lot you immediately start driving home. Because you know what you need right now, and it’s not a mocha latte.

Walking through your front door you quickly change into comfy clothes and curl up in your nest. This is exactly what your omega needs after the stressful morning. Nothing can beat being surrounded by the alpha’s wonderful scent.

Well, nothing except actually being with the alpha.

But that’s currently impossible. He’s traveling, probably almost in Mexico by now.

Right?

He’s going to Mexico. That’s what you keep telling yourself. It’s what you say when there’s a surprise knock on the door. It’s what you repeat when you open the door and see none other than Harry Styles standing in your apartment hallway.

He’s going to Mexico. Except he’s very much standing in front of you, flowers in one hand, a tray of drinks in the other, and a small suitcase next to him.

“Hi,” he says sweetly, dimples making an appearance as he smiles at you.

“Hi,” you answer just as quietly, still in disbelief of what you’re seeing.

You step back, silently inviting him in. He places the drinks and flowers on the table in your entryway so he can roll his suitcase in, shutting the door behind him.

The two of you stand there for a moment just taking each other in. Slowly, Harry leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. He pulls back just an inch and there’s a moment of tension between you.

The moment doesn’t last long. You don’t know who moves first, but your lips quickly crash together in a kiss more heated than any you’ve shared before. His hands grip your waist, and you bite back a whine at the feeling of how big they are on your body. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one resting on the back of his neck while the other slides through his hair.

You begin to walk backwards into the living room, never breaking contact. Harry sits on your couch, and you follow to straddle him, kneeling over him so your legs bracket either side of his. The kiss gets more intense, and this time you can’t hide the noise of pleasure when his tongue just barely passes between your lips.

After a few minutes of what is by far the best make out of your life, his hands move to your thighs. They slide up further and you become overwhelmed, pulling back from the kiss in response.

He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, doesn’t question what happened or if you’re okay. He knows why you stopped. He can read that you’ve gone as far as you’re comfortable with at this point. He smiles, presses one more chaste kiss to your lips, and then readjusts you so you’re sitting next to him, legs resting over his lap. He pulls you in, so you’re tucked against his side, and you stay like that for a few minutes, just enjoying being close together.

“So, how did the appointment go today?” he finally asks.

Before you can answer your stomach starts to growl loudly, causing you both to laugh.

“Hold that thought,” he says, “let’s get some lunch first huh?”

“Sounds like a good plan. I can make some for us,” you say, and immediately head to the kitchen.

Harry uses the restroom while you prepare some sandwiches and fruit salad. It gives you a moment to process everything that happened that morning. You also think about how you’ll answer Harry’s last question. You decide to tell him the truth, tell him everything. He’s proved how deeply he cares about you, and honestly at this point you can’t imagine keeping anything from him.

So over lunch, you explain everything your doctor said. You tell him about the touch deprivation, and he reassures you that he’ll make sure you always have freshly scented materials to wear and put in your nest. You even tell him about the upcoming heats, though not without blushing the whole time.

“Is there anything I can do to help with that? Would you want me to be with you through it?” You’re endeared by the fact that his blush matches yours now.

You think about his offer for a moment and reply, “I don’t think so. At least not the first one. I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. And, uhm,” you pause for a moment before admitting something. You’re scared to tell him, but you’ve already talked about enough embarrassing things today with him and your doctor, so one more can’t hurt. “I’ve never been knotted before. And though I want to someday, I want it to be right. And I want it to be when I’ll remember it, not while I’m under the haze of a heat. When we’ll both remember it.” You’re nervous at the end, including him the way you did, like you’re assuming he wants that too.

“I completely understand. There will be a time when we’re ready. And it will be perfect,” you share another shy smile, reassured that he included himself without any hesitation. He wants this, and he wants this with you. He sees a future to your relationship, just like you do.

“Now,” he continues, “when it comes to helping with the touch deprivation and you requiring scenting, I think we should choose some dates when we can be together. It’s not healthy for you if we’re apart for long periods of time. And honestly, I don’t want to go months without seeing you.”

“Me neither,” you reply.

“Do you want to pull out our calendars now, or forget about all this for the afternoon and just spend the day together and make some plans over the phone after I leave tomorrow?”

“Make plans later. Definitely. I want to enjoy the day with you.”

And so, the two of you have a lazy afternoon in. It had started to rain while you ate lunch, which gives you the perfect excuse to turn on the fireplace and lounge in the living room. You watch movies, play some games, and get lost listening to each other tell stories. Harry orders in dinner, Thai this time, and you each take your own showers before getting ready for bed.

Harry hasn’t been in your room yet, and you hesitate before opening the door to let you both in. He’s seen your nest over Facetime, but this is different, and suddenly you’re hit with the overwhelming need for him to approve of it. You don’t know what you’ll do if the alpha doesn’t like it.

Of course, your fear is for nothing. Because the second you bring Harry to the side of your bed and show him what you made, he immediately showers you in compliments. He tells you how perfect it is, how cozy it looks.

“Would you like to lay in it with me? I know it’s kind of small, so I understand if-” he cuts you off before you can complete your sentence and says, “I would be honored to be in your nest with you.”

He looks to you for guidance, needing to know exactly where you want him. He knows how important nests are to omegas, and the last thing he wants is to mess it up in any way. You instruct him where to lay down and he does so without pause. He holds his arms out and you quickly go to him.

It’s no surprise when you begin to purr. Wrapped in his arms, in your nest, surrounded by his scent, you think you may have entered heaven.

No one speaks for a while, and you start to think maybe Harry’s fallen asleep. That is until you hear him clear his throat. You look to him, knowing he wants to say something, and he takes a deep breath.

“I have a question for you. And I know it may be too soon, but it seems silly to delay when we obviously have a connection. We’re old enough now to know what we want. And what I want is you. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, or at least not yet, but I couldn’t leave without asking. Y/N, would you be my girlfriend?”

“Harry, I would absolutely love to.”

He holds you closer in response pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling back and seeing the huge smile on your face.

“There’s just one more question,” he says. He seems even more nervous about this one, but you remain calm, even releasing some calming pheromones of your own.

You can tell he senses them as he relaxes and says, “Would you also do me the honor of being my omega?”

This question is even more unexpected than the last. He’s right in saying that it’s very early to ask, but at the same time, it’s not too early at all. Because there’s an undeniable connection between the two of you, not just as people, but as alpha and omega. It would be silly not to make it official.

Happy tears fill your eyes, and you nod yes in answer to his question. His eyes are similarly watery, and he leans down to press a kiss over your mating spot, a promise of what’s to come in the future, and you snuggle impossibly closer to him. To Harry. Your boyfriend. And your alpha.

You sleep soundly through the night, waking only when you realize Harry isn’t beside you. The spot is still warm, so he hasn’t been gone long. It’s early, a little before 7 a.m., and you hear Harry getting ready in the bathroom. He’ll be leaving soon. He mentioned a car would be picking him up to take him to the airport first thing in the morning.

Before you can get up he crouches down, running a hand over your hair. He’s ready to go, but he lays down next to you, soaking up every last second before he absolutely needs to leave. He scents you, does it so strongly that he’s practically scent marked the room, and you’re grateful for that. Since you’ll be stopping your medications today, having a space filled with his smell will help ease you through the transition.

Too quickly, his phone rings with a message that his ride is waiting outside.

He leans down to kiss you and say, “Everything is going to be alright. We’ll work it out, and I’m with you the whole way. Goodbye, my omega.”

You preen at the title and press another kiss to his lips before replying, “Thank you, alpha. Be safe.”

“I will, I promise,” he says. With one final press of his lips on your forehead, he drags himself out of the comfort of your nest and then out of your apartment.

It’s quiet without him, but you reflect on his parting words. You believe them wholeheartedly. It’s going to be difficult, but he’ll be there to help.

With the reassurance that you’re not alone, and Harry’s delicious scent filling the room, you slip back to sleep, feeling nervous but hopeful about what’s to come.  

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this chapter so I hope you all liked it as well!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite@theekyliepage@numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry@ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess@houseofdilfs@shaquille-0atmeal-1@kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye@n0vaj3an@snwells@drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305@creativelyeva@daphnesutton@selluequestrian@lovingfurypanda @stardream14 @tbsloneely@eversincehs1@boomitsallie1@rose-garden-dreamz @fictionalmensblog @buckybarnessimpp @ottawaoutlander @storyschanging @jerseygirlinca

[jeankluv]

Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 05

Words: 4k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

Warnings for this chapter: panic attacks

Ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

Authors notes: thank you for still supporting this story and for always like and leaving feedback and lovely messages ❤️

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

Fic playlist

Haibara's words hit you like a bucket of cold water.

“You also play on the basketball team?” You said with surprise.

Haibara laughed. “Yeah, I´m not as good as my seniors, Gojo and Geto, but I’m also on the team.”

“So obviously…” You sighed. “It’s impossible for us to change our shifts that day right?”

“I’m afraid so.” You looked down, you were really sad. “You have something important that day?”

You shook your head. “I got invited to the match and I wanted to go, but it’s okay! It doesn’t matter if we can’t change shifts.” You smiled.

“You got invited to the match?” He exclaimed and you nobbed in surprise. “I will talk with my grandma, I don't think she will mind if we close the store for one afternoon. Or maybe my sister can come…” He mentioned.

“Please Haibara, there is no need.” You said with worry.

It wasn't necessary for him to do that, there would be other chances to attend a game. Although you were feeling a bit sad for missing out, it wasn't catastrophic. Whether or not you attended didn't hold significant weight. Haibara had gone through the trouble of arranging it all for you, solely because you harbored a desire to fulfill Gojo's request. Goodness, you felt foolish.

“My grandma won’t mind, don’t worry. She adores you and she adores me.” He joked. “Besides it’s just a day, nothing will happen. Once she finds out that is to go to her dear grandson’s basketball match, she might even show up there herself.” He laughed. “Although I know you won’t be watching me.”

“I will also cheer for you Haibara.” You planted your hands on the table and looked at him seriously. “You’re my friend after all, right?”

“You consider me your friend?”

“Of course!”

Haibara shouted your name and hugged you tightly. “You are my friend too. I will present to you my friends from the team, although you already know a few of them.”

“Alright.” You grinned.

Haibara bid you farewell and exited the grocery store. Now you understood why he was always in a hurry; it was for his basketball practices. Retrieving your cell phone from your pocket, you messaged Kyoko that it were most likely going to the match too. The match was scheduled for Friday, and today being Wednesday, you wished you had discussed it with Haibara earlier, but time had been scarce for a calm conversation.

Despite the usual midweek routine, Gojo remained his typical self, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that he was concealing something behind his playful smile. Though hesitant to inquire, you continued studying, occasionally seeking clarification from him on various matters that crossed your mind during your free moments together.

You spent the afternoon attending to customers until Kyoko arrived; that day, she had promised to pick you up to go home together. You closed the shop, and Kyoko took hold of your arm to draw you closer as you walked towards home.

“You won't believe this.” She smiled, showing her teeth and squinting her eyes. You turned your head to look at her. “Suguru gave me his jersey; he wants me to wear it in the game.” She said with excitement.

“Really?” You said in amazement, to which she nodded eagerly. “Wow, Kyoko, are you two not officially dating yet?”

Kyoko shook her head. “Not yet, but I think we're heading in the right direction.” She sighed and whispered your name. “Do you think it can work out this time?”

“Yes.” You said firmly. “Suguru is not like the jerk…” You left the sentence hanging, recalling how Kyoko felt talking about that. “You know. The times I see you both, you seem genuinely happy, and Kyoko, believe me, the way Suguru looks at you is like the gaze of a romantic movie protagonist.”

When you met Kyoko, she was dating a guy whose name filled you with disgust. They had been together before entering high school. Kyoko was truly in love, while he was a complete jerk who was capable of cheating on her with more than five girls in just one month.

You still remember Kyoko's inconsolable crying when she found out, lamenting whether she wasn't enough for that pig. You recall seeing her light dim and her confidence shattered. That's why when you saw him on campus, you couldn't help but beat him up; at that moment, you didn't care about the possibility of being expelled or reprimanded, you were tired of seeing your best friend cry in corners because of that pig.

Fortunately, Kyoko moved forward, and that jerk transferred to another college. Since then, Kyoko had regained her confidence and her radiance; you only hoped and wished that Suguru Geto wouldn't do anything like that to her, not even close, or else you would do what you did back then all over again.

Both of you arrived at Kyoko’s home and greeted her parents, who were waiting for you to eat dinner. At that moment, you felt the need to cry but hold it back all together, you didn’t like crying in front of people.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

In the blink of an eye, game day arrived, and Kyoko and you headed to where it would be held. There were quite a few university students, including professors. But it wasn't surprising after all, your basketball team was quite famous.

You sat next to Kyoko on the bench, positioned not too far from the playground, offering an optimal view of the players. It seemed likely they could spot you too. Kyoko brimmed with excitement for the match, donning the t-shirt Suguru had gifted her, emblazoned with his name and number. To an outsider, it might seem as though they were already a couple, but Kyoko insisted they were merely in the process of getting to know each other.

You glanced around, taking in the scene. It was your first attendance at one of the college basketball team's games. Yet, you were keenly aware that almost the entire college turned out for these matches due to their exceptional prowess. They rarely suffered defeat.

Apparently the team they would face that day was from Kyoto college, the only thing you knew was what Kyoko had told you and it seemed last year they faced each other in a final or something like that, the truth is you had not understood very well. Nonetheless, your team won, although with some difficulty.

You noticed how Kyoko grabbed your hand and rested his head on your shoulder, while she raised and lowered her leg nervously.

“Kyoko, relax.” You tried to calm her down. “They will probably win.”

“I’m not nervous for the match. Suguru said he wanted to talk with me after the match.”

You slightly opened your mouth in surprise. “Oh… maybe it’s the day Kyoko!”

“Maybe!” She smiled. “But still I’m really nervous.”

“It will be fine.” You tried to calm her.

The whistle signaling the start of the game brought you back to where you were. Kyoko squeezed your hand tightly, her eyes fixed on Suguru Geto. On the other hand, you watched the game, paying attention to most players. Haibara was among them, visibly happy to be there. There was also the blond guy you had seen with Haibara outside the store that time – what was his name? Nanamin? Yes, that might be it.

But without a doubt, you were consciously avoiding fixing your eyes on a white-haired guy. Though it was relatively impossible as he stood out on his own, and the entire venue went crazy whenever he touched the ball.

He was good, or so you thought, considering your limited knowledge of basketball. Yet, the way he moved, handled the ball, and shot was exquisite to watch.

Oh God! What are you thinking?

You shook your head to dispel those thoughts, trying to avoid looking at him. Your foolish mind led you to think things you shouldn't.

You shifted your gaze to the scoreboard – 34-27 in favor of Tokyo. You were winning.

The game continued, intensifying with each passing moment, causing the crowd to become even more excited in the action.

During one of the timeouts, as Kyoko commented on how handsome Suguru looked in his uniform and sighed, your eyes drifted across the team, catching the direct gaze of Gojo's blue eyes.

A pang in your heart made you immediately turn your head away. His gaze had been soft and warm, causing you to feel nervous, even from five meters away.

Feeling flustered by the unexpected encounter, you tried to focus on Kyoko's words, but the image of Gojo's penetrating gaze lingered in your mind. The intensity of his eyes seemed to convey a message you couldn't decipher, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you.

As the timeout ended and the game resumed, you found it difficult to shake off the lingering effect of Gojo's gaze.

With just a few minutes left for the game to end, both teams were tied. You and Kyoko gripped each other's hands, eagerly awaiting a decisive move.

The ball moved swiftly between players. Eventually, it landed in Suguru's hands. Realizing the dwindling time, he swiftly passed it to Gojo. Could he make the shot from that distance?

The court fell into silence as Gojo launched the ball towards the basket. Your breath caught as you followed the ball's trajectory – one spin, then another. When the buzzer sounded, the ball found its mark.

The arena erupted in cheers and applause, celebrating the victory of the University of Tokyo. You and Kyoko embraced, jumping with joy.

Your university had won.

“Can you believe we won? Suguru was incredible out there!” Kyoko screamed, jumping on her place.

You nodded, but your gaze involuntarily wandered towards Gojo, who was now surrounded by his teammates.

“What's on your mind? You seem a bit distracted.”

You hesitated before replying, “I... noticed something during the game.”

Kyoko raised an eyebrow. “What? The handsome players?”

You chuckled nervously, “No, it's just... Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” You shook your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded, trying to brush it off, but the memory of Gojo's gaze lingered, leaving you with a sense of intrigue amid the celebration.

Both of you stood up and headed outside; Kyoko needed to talk to Suguru before you went home. You walked to the exit where the players were leaving and waited. A smile spread across your face as you saw Suguru approaching you both.

“There is your man.” You gave her a light elbow nudge, and she blushed. “Go on. Then you have to fill me in on everything.” You warned her.

Kyoko started walking and smiled at you. “You know I will.”

You watched as your best friend approached Suguru and congratulated him on the victory. If it weren't for the fact that it was real life, you'd think you were watching a romantic movie from the '90s, the way Suguru had taken your best friend's hand and led them away from the crowd. You could almost vomit rainbows at that moment.

You pulled out your phone from your bag and checked the time, 21:45. It was still early.

“You came.” You heard a voice behind you. You knew whose voice it was; you could recognize it almost anywhere.

The voice of the person you had been trying to avoid making eye contact with all night, and the same voice that had now caused your heart to beat a little faster. Would it beat even faster if you looked into his eyes?

“Well…” You turned to face him; he still had his uniform on, and his hair was wet. Damn. “You invited me to the game, didn't you? It was the least I could do for my private tutor and project partner.”

Gojo simply smiled at you. “We have some soda if you want.” He pointed to where the rest of the players were.

You shook your head. “I'm good, but thanks.” You played with your hands and looked at the ground; for the first time, you felt embarrassed about what you were about to say. “You played really well, Gojo. It was very... very good. You were good, I guess.”

“Birdie…” You lifted your gaze and realized he was incredibly close to you again. “Are you free now?”

“Um…” You hesitated. You were, but... “I'm waiting for Kyoko.”

Gojo cleared his throat and grinned. “Then you're free. Those two lovebirds will take a while.” Gojo stood next to you and took hold of your arm. “Come on, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Wait, Gojo.” You tried to free yourself from his grip. “Are you going like this?” You looked him up and down.

“Yes, why?” He checked himself. “This is my other uniform, and I've showered.”

“Oh.” You nodded. "I thought..."

"You thought I'd take you around all sweaty?" You averted your gaze, avoiding his. "You can see me sweaty under different circumstances..."

You pulled away from his grip and looked at him with a furrowed brow. “No, thanks.”

“I meant during basketball practice.” He teased you. “You thought wrong.” And you couldn't help but blush.

Gojo grabbed your arm and practically dragged you to the parking lot. You could feel people's gaze on you, which wasn't hard considering Gojo drew too much attention, much to your dismay. Most looks were curious, although many would have buried you alive if they could.

Gojo stopped in front of the black car he had taken you in before. You didn't know much about cars, but you were sure it was expensive. He let go of your arm and opened the trunk, searching for something. Then he pulled out a hoodie and handed it to you, and you frowned at him.

“You've been shivering since we left the venue.” He said, offering it again. “It might be colder where we're going.”

“Thanks... I guess.” You whispered as you took the hoodie. “But I don't understand why you want to take me somewhere. Kyoko will be looking for me.” You protested.

“I already told Suguru, I'm sure he's told Kyoko. So relax.” He shrugged.

“I still don't understand why you want to take me somewhere.” You sighed.

“Simply because I want to, birdie.” He put his hands on his hips. “I… I'd like to show you something.”

“Gojo, if you try anything, even the slightest thing, I won't hesitate with you.” You looked him in the eyes.

“I know, and I won't do anything you don't want.” He smiled. “Shall we go now?”

“Yeah…” You looked carefully at his face, noticing how the wounds were almost gone. “Your wounds… you treated them?” Gojo nodded, touching his face a little bit. “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Oh birdie, is worried about me.” Gojo teased you.

You rolled your eyes and said nothing. Because in fact a part of you was worried about him but saying it out loud didn’t feel right.

You put on the hoodie he gave you, it was warm, and Gojo's scent filled your nostrils. It was too big for you, but it covered your thighs a bit. You got into Gojo's car and fastened your seatbelt.

Before Gojo got in too, you quickly sent a message to Kyoko.

You to Kyoko ☀️

If anything happens to me, it was Gojo.

I love you

Gojo hopped into the driver's seat, starting the car with a confident grin. As he drove away, Gojo seemed oddly focused on the road, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor.

You watched outside the window and observed the city lights were starting to fade, distancing yourselves from the bustling Tokyo and entering a quieter place. That was the feeling as you looked through the window of Gojo's car.

The soft lights of fireflies illuminated the road. Gojo kept his eyes on the road, and the silence in the car wasn't awkward. In fact, you didn't feel uncomfortable being with him. It's true that he annoyed you, and often you couldn't stand him, but discomfort wasn't present.

Admitting it aloud was a challenge, but slowly, Satoru Gojo was earning your appreciation, even though you always proceeded with caution, carefully observing his actions.

It had been 30 minutes since you got into Gojo's car when the speed began to decrease; it seemed you had arrived at the place. A strange sensation took hold of you; you didn't know what it was, but it was there.

You got out of the car, just like Gojo, and waited for him to reach your side.

“We have to walk a bit, but I swear it'll be worth it.” He smiled and started walking ahead of you.

You didn't say anything and simply followed him; Gojo walked with determination and confidence in every step he took, regardless of the fact that the only light available was from the flashlights on your phones.

“I used to come here when I was little.” He broke the silence. “And then when I got older too, it helped me clear my mind and relax.” He looked over his shoulder at you and smiled.

You continued walking until you finally reached the place. The moon was reflected in the crystal-clear water of the lake, displaying a beautiful view.

“Tara!” Gojo sang, spreading his arms and smiling. “It's incredible that a place like this exists near Tokyo; it's wonderful.”

You wanted to say yes, it was, but that feeling in your stomach was back, and your head was throbbing.

“Birdie…?” You noticed Gojo looking at you with a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m tired…” You said. “Sorry…”

“No, don't be…” He shook his head. “Why don’t we go and sit over there?” He pointed at a bench near the lake.

You nodded and started walking towards the bench. You didn’t quite know what got into you but it was an uncomfortable sensation that wanted to break out.

Gojo sat next to you and you noticed how he started to play with his fingers. Was he nervous?

“Gojo…” You broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.” He cut you. “I’m sorry, you told me you didn’t feel like coming and still I brought you here, without caring. You probably wanted to get home and rest. Shit…” He held his head between his hands. “You are always working so hard and already came to see the match although you had to work and here I’m bringing you here when you are tired.”

You looked at him attentively; it wasn't necessary for him to react like this. He didn't need to worry so much about you.

“Gojo.” You whispered, gently touching his shoulder. “It's okay, don't worry. I just started getting a headache.”

He removed his hands from his head and looked at you before returning his gaze to the lake.

“I always come here when I need to clear my head.” He whispered. “When classes get too much or after training.”

Who would've thought, the great Satoru Gojo would be overwhelmed. You never would've been able to tell.

“Lately, I've been coming here too often, to be honest.” He whispered.

“Are classes getting to you?” You asked out of curiosity.

“Not exactly, it's more family problems.”

“Oh... I understand.”

“You know, when I was a kid, I used to sneak out and come here.” He smiled and looked at you. “When my parents scolded me or we argued, I'd grab my bike and come here.”

“You came here as a child alone?" You said in surprise, the place was a bit far away for a kid to come on their own.

“Yeah, they didn't care.” He said with a sad smile.

“Gojo…” You said concern, Gojo was opening to you in a way you wouldn’t have thought he would.

“But it's okay, I could relax here, and one day, I met someone.” He turned to look at you with a smile.

Gojo continued talking but you struggled to maintain focus, the intensity of the memories threatening to overwhelm you. His lips moved, forming words you couldn't decipher over the deafening roar in your ears.

A sharp pain shot through your head, causing you to wince and clutch at your temples. It felt like your skull was being crushed in a vice, the pressure unbearable. Breathing became a struggle, each inhale feeling like a futile attempt to fill your lungs with air.

The memories flooded back with relentless force, each fragment adding to the torment. You remembered the bright sunshine glinting off the surface of the lake, the sound of your mother's voice calling your name.

And then, the screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, the scream of terror that ripped through the air. You remembered the impact, the sensation of being thrown, the blinding pain as your body collided with something hard and unforgiving.

But amidst the chaos and confusion, one image stood out with stark clarity: your mother, her arms wrapped around you, shielding you from harm with her last breath.

Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to make sense of it all, the weight of grief and loss crushing you with its unbearable heaviness. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of sorrow, unable to find solid ground to anchor yourself.

“Birdie…” You could hear Gojo calling your nickname and your name.

You were having a panic attack?

“Are you okay?” Gojo's concerned voice broke through the haze, his hand reaching out to steady you.

You blinked, trying to focus on his face through the blur of tears and agony. It was all too much to bear, the weight of the past pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“I... I…” Your words came out as a choked whisper, your voice trembling with the effort to contain the overwhelming pain.

Without another word, Gojo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a comforting embrace. In that moment, his presence was a lifeline amidst the storm of your shattered memories.

Gojo's arms held you warmly and tightly, as if he wanted to remove the pain you were currently feeling from your body and mind.

That's when you realized how shitty you had been. Satoru Gojo had cried hugging you and at that moment you had not been able to do anything for him, instead you stayed silent like the coward you were.

Gojo was the opposite of you, he was what you wanted to be, open, positive, energetic, sympathetic but you were far from it.

“Birdie?” His voice was gentle, filled with concern, as he steadied you.

You blinked back tears, not wanting Gojo to see you cry, and trying to find the words to express the turmoil inside. “I... I need…”

“It’s okay…” He whispered, still embracing you. “I think the best is to leave.”

You simply nodded. Gojo separated from you and stood up first, feeling the warmth you had felt previously disappear.

As you looked up, you saw Gojo's hand extended towards you. On another occasion, you would have rejected it and said something to him, but in that moment you just wanted to feel the calm and warmth you had experienced next to his body.

You grabbed Gojo's hand and walked in silence to the car. In a way, you were anxious and felt that if you got into the car after remembering what you had remembered, you might have another panic attack. But if you stayed at the lake, you didn't think you could be calm. Anyway, all you wanted at that moment was to get away from there.

“Birdie…” Gojo's gentle voice brought you out of your thoughts.

You looked at him and saw the sadness and concern in his face.

“I'm fine.” You forced a smile, knowing he didn't buy it when he held your gaze. “Really, how about you invite me to dinner?” You tried to change the subject. “I'm starving.” You touched your stomach.

Gojo's features relaxed for a moment and he nodded. “Okay…” He opened the car door. “Pick any place you want, it doesn't matter. I'll take you.”

You nodded with a smile.

The drive was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the radio. You stole glances at Gojo, noting the tension in his posture and the furrow of his brow. Despite your attempts to lighten the mood, you could tell that he was still worried about you.

You wanted to assure him that he didn’t have to worry about you.

Notes: if you want to be tagged, just comment below 🤗

Tagged: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic, @gojoful

[ultimateshixiongfuckertournament]

Noncanonicals Tournament Round 2, Match 4

Match 4 is between John 'Jack' Seward from Dracula (shizun/mentor: Abraham van Helsing) and Han Ying from Word of Honor (shizun/mentor: Zhou Zishu)

Propaganda under the cut! (Warning: Propaganda may include spoilers about the characters and their media)

John 'Jack' Seward:

Actual quotes from the letter in which John Seward introduce Van Helsing:

"I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in the world. [...]

Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy."

I feel like this speaks for itself tbqh.

Also, here's Van Helsing's answer to Seward's offscreen summons:

"When I received your letter I am already coming to you. By good fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who have trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when he wants my aids and you call for them than all his great fortune could do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend, it is to you that I come.[...]"

The Gangrene Incident is never explained beyond this. Just. Jack sucked Van Helsing canon and real

Rest assured that they are like this from here to the end of the novel

--

See above; also, let's remember the fact that Jackie can apparently do a bang up Dutch accent to give full bodied performances mimicking his professor. Van H also implies that he and Jack are blood-married.

--

Even though they are mentor/student, Van Helsing strongly believes Jack is his equal in many ways and confides in him just for emotional stability. Stereotypically the mentor pushes the student outside of his comfort zone, but it is Jack who introduces the professor to everyone else in the story. Van Helsing tells another character that Jack helps alleviate his loneliness. He writes his "in case I die" memos to Jack specifically, because there is no one else who would understand him better.

Oh also Van Helsing has a running theme of barging into Jack's room unannounced, waking him up gently from his sleep, invading his personal space with little protest.

#you have to understand just how MUCH jack wants to fuck van helsing#so badly#he is constantly heart-eyes at van helsing even when he thinks van helsing might be a bit mad#like literally he writes about how GOOD van helsing would be at being a madman if he were to do so because he's the bestest at everything 😍#he and van helsing talk about the two of them being as one#they mirror the ultimate main couple in that - just as jon and mina write their 'if i should die' notes to each other -#van helsing writes his to JACK as the one whom he loves most#anyway in conclusion jack wants van helsing and his 'all encompassing sympathy' SO bad#and honestly i think getting some of that aged D might fix him#like not all of his problems because dear god man. but like. at least a few could be solved with a good solid dicking

#did we. or did we all not read jack asking van helsing to be his pet student AGAIN

#when it comes to mentorfucking#there's no greater mentorfucker than jack seward

Han Ying:

He idolized and was mentored by Zhou Zishu to the point of recruiting other young martial artists to revive ZZS’s dying sect and willing to die live happily ever after for it.

#han ying wants to fuck zhou zishu SO BAD#han ying#shizunfucker tournament

#my sweet ying'er wants to fuck zzs so bad he's gagging for it

#HAN YING HANDS DOWN#would have licked his boots if he asked

[icycoldninja]

Can you write a DMC men headcanon with a reader who’s like Marie from SkullGirls?

She was a war orphan, used to live in an orphanage and thought her life would went peaceful like this until a group of devils intrude their home, causing the destruction of her home and the death of her adoptive parents and the kids their. Enrage, she obtain an artifact named the “Skullheart”

(The Skull Heart is a powerful sentient artifact that plays a major part in the Skullgirls story. Every seven years after its previous destruction, it reappears to grant a wish to a woman. The wish can be of incredible magnitude, but it comes at a great price. The Skull Heart often twists even selfless wishes into brutality, ending wars by causing even more destruction, bringing back a loved one as an undead minion, and in return inhabits the body of the woman who wished upon it, in time turning the woman into a Skullgirl. A murderous, extremely powerful woman corrupted by the Skull Heart, capable of raising corpses as mindless minions, bringing about destruction in an endless cycle with the purpose of one day ending the world.)

for the sole purpose of protecting her loved ones and to bestow punishment and torment on those she deemed are evil and not worth redemption. This transformed her into the Skullgirl, but with her strong will, she managed to resist the influence of the skull heart and continue her quest of vengence - to put an end to those who are willing to harm the innocents and her family as well as disposing evil and those who are associated with it

Absolutely, here you go.

Sparda boys + V x Marie-like!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-Dante had never heard of the Skullheart, but upon seeing the power it gave you, had to admit he was impressed.

-He's proud of you for overcoming the influence of the Skullheart and continuing on with your mission to rid the world of evil.

-Dante's kinda doing the same thing, so now you guys can destroy devils together.

-He's very supportive of you and will always be around to talk if you ever need to get anything off your chest.

-He also knows what it's like to lose one's family, so he can sympathize with your situation.

-One thing you should note is that Dante will be there forever, and that you don't need to worry about protecting him, be it from outside threats or yourself.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil was astounded by the POWER the Skullheart gave you and wished the Skullheart would come to him so he could wish for more power.

-After you explained to him the consequences of getting a wish granted by the Skullheart, he quickly changed his mind, and silently applauded you for making such a selfless wish and surviving.

-Your quest to rid the world of all evil and all those you deem irredeemable are in Vergil's blunt opinion, dumb, but he won't stop you.

-He is glad you count demons among the irredeemable because there are a lot to be exterminated, but between the two of you and your insane powers, you might be able to wipe them all out.

-Also sympathizes with your unfortunate situation regarding your foster family and is more than happy to give you a MOTIVATING pep talk whenever you need one.

-You two are constantly trying to protect one another from various things. You try to keep him safe from your own volatile powers, and Vergil tries to guard against demons and other nefarious creatures. It's turned into a sort of competition now.

□ Nero □

-Nero was concerned about the power you wield because there's a chance it could corrupt you someday.

-He's worried you'll go power-crazy like his dear old dad, and considering your strength, that'd be really bad.

-Nero's from an orphanage himself, so he's no stranger to your kind of sadness. Though he's not much of a talker, he will listen.

-Tries to keep you from using your powers as much as he can, offering to go on missions solo so you can hold off on the fighting. Losing you really is a great fear of his.

-Despite how many times you've reassured him you're not going anywhere, he won't believe you. Nero is just really, really worried.

-He does admire your strength though, because let's face it, your powers are incredible.

● V ●

-V was intrigued by the power of the Skullheart and decided to learn as much as he could about it.

-He went to every library and bookstore he could find, searching for tomes and other records of the Skullheart's power. What he learned terrified him.

-V knew your willpower was strong, but was it strong enough to resist the Skullheart forever? Would you really be able to keep this up as you got older?

-He knew there wasn't all that much you could do about it since you couldn't exactly give up the power of the Skullheart, so he decided that he would do his best to take care of you, watching for any signs that you're losing control.

-He is proud of you for devoting your gift to something so selfless; his admiration for you increases more and more every day.

-He loves you more than anything else in the world and will be by your side forever, regardless of what happened in the past and what might happen in the future.

[lanitalay]

Among Flames and Starlight Chapter 5

a/n: I'm very proud of this chapter!!!!! Enjoy!

Warnings: angst, bad mental health, suicidal thoughts, oc refusing to eat

Word count: 2.1k

Other Chapters

Mahogany. The massive doors that separated her from the rest of her life were mahogany. Not maple. Not pine. But deep red-brown mahogany. They were carved with scenes from Autumn legends. Irene didn’t recognize them. She could infer they told the story of a hero, from the male figure wielding a sword against a tentacled creature. If the doors stayed closed she’d be fine. Even if the dress she wore was scratchy. Or if the thorns from her bouquet pricked her skin. She was happy to stay here, cold sweat running down her spine, nausea making her question the last time she ate and hair pulled so tight in a bun that her head ached. 

In this space, standing behind the doors she was herself. Not the Princess of Autumn. Not Eris Vanserras’ wife. 

But the doors could not stay closed forever. Someone would inevitably have to open them. Either to go in or out. Today, she knew they would be opened by two footmen, right on cue with the music, so that she may walk down the aisle. 

Irene was shell shocked from the last fifteen minutes. In moments, she was expelled from her home and sold off to the highest- or only- bidder. She was cold now, no longer surrounded by the Summer sun. No, she was in Autumn now and the sun was blocked by moody clouds and a forest canopy. The scent of maple and pine enveloped her and if she had chosen to be here on her own free will, she might have savored it. She remained standing in the courtyard as the Vanserras dispersed. Some went into the forest, others into the house and the youngest went towards a grass field. 

Lady Autumn and Eris stayed with her. The latter still holding onto her arm. The former looked at her with sad eyes and motioned with her hand  “come dear, I can show you to your room.” Eris let go of her, his hands now placed firmly behind his back. Irene nodded, not processing what was happening and followed the Lady into the Forest House. 

The beginning notes of a traditional Autumn song sounded from behind the doors. The knobs on the door rotated slowly. Mahogany pulled away to reveal the aisle, lined with white carpet. She kept her eyes trained on that carpet, how pristine it was. How not one speck of dust dirtied it. How long it was. How, at the other end, stood a male with red hair. Staring at the floor was infinitely easier than facing the crows and the faces she could not bear to see. 

They were all here. The High Lord of Night, Celene, Cassian, Azriel, Victoria and… Rhys. She couldn’t be sure that seeing him wouldn’t cause her to break. That the one person she truly wanted would be watching when she vowed her life away to another. 

That first day in the Autumn Court was bad. Irene spent it in her room, looking out of the window from a cushioned chair. She didn’t see anyone until it was time for dinner when Lady Autumn, or Mora, as she insisted Irene call her, brought her a plate.

The next morning a servant took the untouched plate out of the room. Mora came back, insisting that she meet everyone at breakfast. Irene couldn’t focus on so many new names. Brando, Cyrus, Arden, Flint, Hugo. She knew Eris and had heard many things about Lucien. The middle autumn sons were mainly described as being various degrees of insane and sadistic, taking after their father. However, that morning the table was mute of conversation. 

Mora introduced her properly to each of the boys. Irene didn’t acknowledge them. She was led to a chair and given a plate with a variety of foods. Lucien said that “the maple buns are good,” but she did not touch any of it. Not when they were eating. When she was sure the food was safe and eating it would keep her alive in this hell. 

At lunch no one bothered her. Irene kept her gaze through the window. 

She knew that she should be walking. But her feet were glued to the floor. The musicians repeated the first verse. Then moved to the second. Irene stayed put. Nothing good awaited her at the end of the aisle. No love. No friendship. Not even quiet companionship. She remembered the burn on her waist, acknowledged the threat that it was, and considered her options.

Her last shard of autonomy.

Burn at the hands of Beron and hope to die or marry Eris and pray to survive. She was only half witch, surely she could be killed like the fae. No one had ever tested that theory though. But she could be the first. The first half witch half fae to have ever lived and died. There would be nothing to hold onto with Eris. Only dread and fear that one day she’d be forced to carry out the duty of all heirs. 

But Avalon was alive. She had been alive for decades in a prison. So if only for her mother and the smallest possibility of seeing her again, Irene stepped forward. 

A full seven days went by and Irene refused to ingest anything, save for a few sips of water here and there. She only had enough energy to walk from the bed to the chair by the window and back. The same clothes she arrived in now hung from her hollowed frame. When she bothered to look in the mirror she saw a withered female. One breath from oblivion. Irene longed for it. 

Mora would come in once a day and try to get her to eat something. She had even gone as far as to force broth down her throat. But Irene refused to keep it down. 

Until, on the seventh day, Lucien walked into her room and gagged. She had not seen anyone except Mora since that first breakfast. He stood by the door, unsure if she was breathing. Irene’s patience had vanished by that point so she snapped, as much as she could manage “why are you here?” 

He fiddled with an envelope and raised it up so she could see “this arrived for you.”

She remained silent and unmoving. “It’s from Victoria.” A twist in her heart reminded her she was still alive. Victoria… the last image she had of her friend was of her scratching at her throat, begging to speak. Irene flipped her hand, signaling Lucien to hand her the letter. 

“I’ll give this to you if you eat something,” he sniffed “and bathe.” She did not react. Lucien left with the envelope and Irene thought just as well. She did not need to read her friend’s laments when soon, so very soon it would all be over and a dark endless sleep would rescue her. With eyes closed she willed herself to find that relief but then Lucien came back, this time with a tray of tea and plain crackers. 

He placed the tray on her bed and her stomach grumbled at the sight. “You’re hungry,” he told her like she did not already know “when we are hungry we eat.”

“I’m good, thanks.” Irene said, getting winded just from rolling her eyes in annoyance. Then Lucien leaned in, so as not to be heard by anyone else, “you are letting him win by letting yourself die.”

“You don’t know anything,” he put a gentle hand over hers “I know the High Lord wants you to suffer for your mother’s crimes. I think he hopes you die because he can’t kill her and you are letting him win.” Irene stares flatly at him. Lucien does the only thing he can think of and rips open the envelope, hoping to the gods Victoria wrote something helpful. “My gentle Irene I’m so sorry,” he reads

“It has been a day since you were ripped from us and I can’t bear to think of you in pain, alone. Father says the wedding is in a month and all I can think about is how you always wanted to be married on the cliffs of Velaris, overlooking the sea. I feel as how you must have felt when your mother was ripped away from you. I love you like a sister. We are all heartbroken. Please forgive me for not being able to save you. Please forgive my mother and Rhysand. None of us knew what he was planning. I would have never insisted you attend the ball had I known. Please stay strong. I’ll be there for the wedding. I’ll be there for you. Take care of yourself, like you’ve always cared for me. Remember nothing is forever, except my love for you, Victoria.”

Silent tears flowed down Irene's face as she reached for the cup of tea. 

It would take one hundred steps to reach the altar. The ridiculous poof of the dress does not let Irene look at her feet. So she walks with her head hung, looking at the floor. But their stares are so heavy. She can imagine the gloat in the High Lord of Night’s face and the pity in her friend’s eyes. 

On the tenth day, Irene was having regular meals. Mora was glad to see the improvement, even if she did not engage in conversation. Another letter arrived, this time from Mor. It remained untouched for a day. But at night, when sleep was impossible, Irene read it. She was never close with the female. They saw each other occasionally, but Mor had her own apartment and after the failed engagement she took every opportunity to leave the Night Court. She would often visit Winter or Vallahan. Since Irene could not leave Velaris, their relationship was nothing more than casual. 

The letter was simple “Irene, I’m sorry this happened. I would have written sooner but I did not hear about it until I returned to Velaris. Victoria was inconsolable. I promised her I’d write to you with advice. I don’t have much to say though, since I never spent more than a day there but the Autumn Court is just like any other. Watch your back. Avoid Beron at all costs.” 

No more letters came. Irene figured the ones that arrived did so through couriers from the Court of Nightmares, as getting mail sent from Velaris was a hassle because of the wards. One morning Mora insisted she go outside and get fresh air. Irene complied, so tired of fighting, of resisting. They sat on a bench near a pond and watched a swan and its cygnets swimming around. “I never wanted to marry the Beron,” the Lady confessed, “I was forced into it, much like you. I would not wish it upon anyone. But it hasn’t been all bad. Find a way to carve out happiness for yourself.” 

“How?” Mora sighed “you have everything we have to enjoy, paint? Or read? Maybe you enjoy gardening…” the list went on. But Irene could not think of finding joy. Not when all of her strength was spent fighting back tears and suppressing an ever present panic. 

She was half way down the aisle when she dared to look up. Victoria was holding a tissue to her eyes, wet with tears. Rhys was a statue beside her. Face set in an unreadable mask. Irene wanted to speak to them, if only mind to mind. But that would shatter her. So she looked forward, chin lifted. Eris stood at the altar, waiting for her. 

In the month she had been at the Forest House she had seen her betrothed three times. When she first arrived, that first breakfast and right now. He had made it his job to stay far away from her. Irene was grateful for the small mercy. 

One, two, three. 

Those were how many steps Irene climbed to reach the altar. She looked straight ahead, only seeing Eris’ chest and only spoke when the priestess said “repeat after me.”

“I take thee, Eris Vanserra, as my husband. To love and respect, until death do us part.” 

“I take thee, Irene Vallier, as my wife. To love and respect, until death do us part.”

The priestess concluded “you may now seal this bond with a kiss.”

Eris began to lean in. Irene stiffened, this was the beginning of the rest of her life. He would use her when he needed. Her body, her time on this planet had just been given away to him. Irene closed her eyes as he neared, bracing for his lips to meet hers in an unwanted intrusion. An intrusion that never came because just before he claimed her mouth, Eris moved his face. Placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. 

The priestess then announced ,

“I present Eris and Irene Vanserra, may the Mother bless this union.”

taglist: @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams

[absolutebl]

10 Sunshine/Sunshine AKA cinnamon roll couple BL

A note: usually one half of the sunshine is a bit more quiet and introverted than the other, but they are both still sunny sweeties. Side dishes not included. 

1. My Ride

Thai 2022 Gaga

Thai BL grew up with this pulp - a truly lovely and special little show featuring mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple. Full review here.

2. Vice Versa

Thai 2022 YouTube

Jimmy is insanely charismatic and takes up all the air in (the proverbial cinematic) room, but I warmed up to Sea eventually. As a couple they read as more teasing and brotherly than sexy, but that’s GMMTV’s brand for you. I enjoyed the concept of this show (I’m big into magical realism and skewed reality - see my adoration for Color Rush) but JittiRain’s plot was contrived and weak (normal for them). Look, here’s the thing, flaws and all I pretty much spent this entire show smiling.

3. My Only 12%

Thai 2022 iQIYI

Y-novel adaptation (author Afterday - Bad Buddy) and strong little BL romance (tailor made for SantaEarth) about holding onto first love and childhood, but it’s buried under waffling family drama and formless side characters so that it took a lot of digging to get to - still I recommend it for the killer softly domestic couple chemistry.

4. About Youth

Taiwan 2022 Gaga

A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and an earnest depth. I didn’t even mind the singing, and that’s saying a lot. A weak seme/uke dynamic but tons of BL tropes (both rare in a high school setting but common for Taiwan) makes this one feel both sweetly and colored by an almost real world authenticity and grit. Full review here.

5. Ghost Host Ghost House

Thai 2022 YouTube?

This is light horror combined with family drama built around a well executed BL trough-line that felt honestly queer with fantastic chemistry from the lead pair. (I hope that we see more of them.) Pluem delivers the softest most seductive krap ever, Tod Techit (Kewin) is one of the prettiest humans on the planet, and watching these boys flirt over noodles is an unalloyed pleasure. Use of I/you pronouns is super interesting and cute as well. For me, personally, the surrounding cast, premise, and story didn’t resonate but if you like a touch of gothic in your BL this might appeal.

6. Dear Doctor, I'm Coming for Your Soul

Thai 2022 iQIYI

This is a romance between a doctor trying to save his patients and a reaper who is both his enemy and (eventual) lover (basically the genius premise of a gay Doom at Your Service). High concept looks good on you, Thailand. It’s lovely to see KarnNat back on screen together and they are still great, and Karn is just as painfully beautiful as ever. I enjoyed this one more than it’s ending deserved, and the best I can say is that it’s not strictly HEA but if you’re okay with Life: Love on the Line, you’ll be okay with this BL. It’s set up well, there’s no surprise unpleasantness like HIStory 3: The BL that shall not be named. Full Review here.

7. Secret Crush On You

Thai 2022 YouTube

Formerly call “The Stalker” for a reason. Highest cringe factor in the biz mixed with flashes of unparalleled genius and insanely good representation of multiple different kinds of queerness makes this entirely unique content we’ve never seen before in BL, the opposite of sanitized gay, like a naked glittery hello kitty doll having kinky sex. I was ALL OVER THE PLACE about this show. SCOY drove me nuts and made me bush but had flashes of unparalleled genius. It had a ton of things I really did not like (e.g. the humor was crass and awkward, and the whole stalker thing was extremely stomach churning, I suffer from bad second hand embarrassment). It also had things that really worked: (e.g. all the queers are INTO each other, it very Taiwanese feeling - in that there was no doubt that the characters want to bone). Honestly, if you can make it through the first half and survive the never ending cringe-factor that IS this show, the second half is entirely unique and kinda special. But I, personally, could never really like this show for all there were bits I loved. Full review of mixed feels.

8. The 8.2 Second Rule

AKA 8.2 Byo no Hosoku

Japan 2022 microfilm YouTube

Very short JBL about a schoolboy who makes magic candy for a series of handsome classmates, questing for a soulmate. Each ep is a new love interest and while the sweets help others, they keep failing to bring our sunshine the love he wants. Of course, he’s overlooking someone. The lead was very good and the theme, cooking, and eventually romance were charming, but it is a series of BL vignettes not really a cohesive story, no kisses or anything. Japan doesn’t give us sweet BL this short very often, so it’s nice to see them try out the style.

9. Ai Long Nhai

Thai 2022 iQIYI

Look, this show was just a typical Thai BL university pulp about a confident gay and a clueless manic pixie dream boy. It had potential, chemistry, and earnestness going for it, but no plot and not enough attention side dishes. In the end, it was boring and you know I always rate boring lower than hot messes (because at least the hot mess TRIED). That said, Ai Long Nhai is better than your average Thai pulp, nothing happens but at least the nothing was mostly shirtless and there were GREAT gay dads (IRL husbands Arm & Porsch). 

10. Coffee Melody

Thai 2022 Viki

Stars Pavel (my love) as a cafe owner (Forth in 2 Moons 2) and Benz as a composer (Call it What You Want). This should have been my kind of BL - on the fluffy end of the spectrum plus honestly queer. Unfortunately, the slow pacing, manufactured angst, odd secondary story arcs, and a selfishly immature unlikeable wet dishcloth main character, Yi, meant its flaws outweighed its charm. Jean (flame on snark fairy) is MINE, I love him so much but in the end neither he nor Pavel in an apron could save this show for me. It’s not bad. It’s not good either. Ultimately so forgettable I’ve probably already forgotten it.

BONUS Strongberry 

Please Tell Me So

AKA That's my Mr.Right!

Korea 2021 microfilm YouTube

Cute barista (played by Han Hyun Jun star of Love Class) has a crush on his customer, musters up the courage to ask him out.

Every list should come with a Strongberry bonus, like a cherry on top... 

This lists dated Dec 2022, not responsible for keeping it updated. But if you have more to add or ones I have forgotten please comment or repost with additions! Keep the dream alive. 

(source)

[lady-ashfade]

A thousands wishes: The betrothal. 

Jacaerys valaryon x Female reader.

Notes: The reader is shorter then him. Her family lives across the seas in a kingdom which they rule, making her a princess. This is not my best work at all and I honestly hate it but I’m putting it out.

This is like a enemies to lovers…But it might in in angst and no lovers at all. You have been warned. 

Story warnings: Haven’t really proof read, mistakes and bad grammar, fighting, angst.

Marriage wasn’t something you wanted, nor was it is something you stood against. When someone is to find the person they wish to marry whether it be for love or a agreed arrangement. All your life you are being told about the happy and miserable stories from marriage. It was something you almost feared at thought of being missable.

So this isn’t what you wished for.

Ever since you were a little girl you had your freedom to do as you liked, being the middle child you were able to be not as cared for or watched over as your siblings. In your growing up you took pleasure in the ways of the sword or the bow since it was your favorite, or never being able to put down a book when it was intoxicating.

But as of three months ago you found yourself being handed off to a man you had never met, in a kingdom you have never stepped foot in. Oh, how the gods were laughing at you. It was a marriage to combine the families, the family your mother knew when was a girl but you had no ties with them. And your father who thought it was a fair trade for such a man in high title to marry you even if he was a bit hesitant at first.

Two Royal blood lines. And who are they to refuse a good proposal?

The letter crumbled up into your hand as anger flooded within you. It was the letter the other queen had sent to your mother regarding your hand in marriage to her son. “You truly do not wish for me to marry him mother?” It was a plead of hoping it was a joke, a sick cruel joke.

“I have already sent my reply, you will be married to him soon enough. They have promise time for you to get to know him so that love might grow between you.” Her words spoken so light and lovingly, she must be happy to send you away to someone else.

“Why do you hate me so mother?” Standing upon your feet you could see the expression in her face flitter. “Why do you wish to send me away? I do not want to be married yet- Shouldn’t I get a say in who marry, why must you be so cruel I’m taking that away from me.” Your eyes began to over flow with tears of anger but your voice become soft and whispery.

“My dear girl,” She stood up from her taken set and placed a hand on your cheek as she stood close. “I do not wish to get rid of you. You are my daughter and one of the most important things in my life and that is why I must do this. I have spent years watching you be alone and closed off. I am hoping you find that within him and maybe then you do not have to be alone anymore.” Drying the tears from your eyes with her numb she brings your head down and gives you a soft kiss.

“Give this a try and it may surprise you but if it doesn’t work in the end we shall call it off.” The smile she gave you was sincere and one of a true loving mother.

One you have missed.

“I shall try.” 

֍ Wishes ֍

Remembering those words in your head as you walked into a room of strangers gathered to watch you and your family so closely. Holding onto your brothers small hand to make sure he doesn’t run away of cry though, it was you who needed to be reminded to stay.

Immediately you noticed a woman with long white hair smile as she sees the lot of you and then at your mother. She must be Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, the ruler of the seven kingdoms and to the iron throne but also your mothers old friend.

Soon they took each other in one another’s arms and the happiness they shared was easy enough to make you smile yourself.

“Welcome to Westeros, it is good to see you again my friend.” The woman glanced over to you and your siblings and soon her eyes landing on you and her smile grew.

“Is this Princess Y/n?” Your mother turned and gave her a nodded, “My second eldest daughter.” Your siblings moved out of the way as she stepped closer and towards you, she was beautiful.

“You are as beautiful as your mother claimed you would be, if not more.” She took your hands for a quick moment and for some reason you where actually relaxed at her presents presents. Her calling you beautiful made you feel pretty and believe her for a bit because she looked like a story book character by her looks. One of beauty.

“I wish you to meet my son, Jacaerys Valaryon. My heir.” She stepped out of the way and you looked behind her and saw a boy with brown hair step away from his siblings and over to you.

He was looking so soft at you that you felt like a silk blanket. “Hello, Princess it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Taken ahold of your hand he raised it to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss.

He was handsome and he was sweet at the touch. You almost fell for it.

“And I reciprocate that feeling my prince. May we learn about each other in the time we share.” Bowing your head with a smile, it was fake and you felt like pulling out your hair and running away from this place.

But you had to stay for your family and to at least give it a try. So after everyone was introduce you slipped away from him and over to your little brother and used him as a excuse to get away.

Now the halls have grown cold and the breeze from the night caused your skin to feel a bit cold. You wondered where the halls will lead you and if you could somehow find a safe haven in this place just to be alone.

Once you came to a darker hallway, it has a small corner it had a stone bench and a half wall to block it off. This was as good as any place to take a breather.

Jace seemed sweet when he glanced at you or the times the confusion on his face when you would walk away before he could get close to you. You almost felt bad for hating him so much, just the thought of being around him made something in your mind twist.

As you sat on the cold stone with your legs crossed and the knife you love being held in your hands. You ran you finger softly against the blade carefully not to cut yourself as you were lost in thought.

If only you had done something different you maybe wouldn’t be in this situation now: not being betrothed or forced to like someone in the eyes of others. Truly what a pity you feel for yourself, but maybe you were lucky to have such a nice man to marry but that’s not something you can justify.

“I do wish you haven’t be waiting to kill someone with that, princess.” He was there. The one person you wish to not see above all else.

“No one has come by.” Joking you look up to him with a bit of sass on your voice and he smiles and chuckles.

“As I am sure you could, I do believe that isn’t the reason you are awake at such a hour.” He walks closer and leans against the all next to you.

“I am thinking.”

“Care to share?” He was so…Charming by the way he spoke to you. But that only made you more annoyed. Wondering what he was truly finding and how many woman he has tricked.

“I do not think you wish to know.” You fully believed that you might hurt his feelings if you let everything out.

“I think it best to get to know how my wife will think-” he stop himself at the sight of you.

Lifting yourself up quickly and stood up with a look of anger and disgusted. You shielded your blade and walked over to him quickly and pointed a finger at his chest.

He was confused at your outburst and hatred towards him and only him, had he already done something to make you loathe him when he tried his best?

“I am not your wife, we are nearly betrothed and even then I am still not your wife until the wedding.”

“Have I done something to offend you so deeply? I apologize for calling you wife but this is more then just now.” You laugh at his words.

“I can see it in your eyes that you don’t truly mean anything, you might fool others but I will not be so easily tricked.” His jaw tighten and leaned up straight and looked down at you.

“You think of me as low as to do that? I am only trying to treat you well and get to know you, which you have avoided all day at the cost or even a word. How can you know my intentions if you do not wish hear my words.” He fired back with just as much as you did but that only sparked more of the flame.

“I did not wish to be here with you, non of it was my own doing. Maybe try being more quiet and standing far away from me when not needed,” Pushing him back a bit with the fingers against his chest.

“I will never ever love you.”

He did not know why those words hurt him such when he barely knew you. He also wished to be in a marriage for love and when he was a little boy he promised to make his wife feel loved and devote himself to her. A true gentleman would but how can he now as he watched her walk away with no interest in letting him be in her life.

He wished for chance.

She wished to be set free.

[extralively]

Sooooo, I just caught up to your latest chapter upload 😭 And umm.... I think my heart just grew 10 sizes 🥹.

Dear heavens above, please keep the Gojo-Wakatsuki-Fushiguro family safe. 🙏 I mean, they've been giving family vibes since Book 1, but this latest chapter is a whole other level.

Yura being fiercely protective of Tsumiki (like a real mom), Megumi being supportive and watching over Tsumiki, Tsumiki being concerned for everybody in spite of her condition and her need for recovery, and Satoru being such a provider and an absolute pillar of resilience, doing his best to hold it all together and even bring the four of them back to his own apartment. Like, okay Dad.

And Tsumiki is a sorcerer now! UAHDKGHASDGK

How do I properly compute this information..? Canon-divergence go BRRRRR~ Let's gooooo 🔥🔥🔥.

Also Yura the Curse Breaker is one hell of a title. 🔥🔥🔥

(I am wondering if Tsumiki turning into a sorcerer is because of Yura, or if it's just an aftereffect of Yura dismantling Tsumiki's curse. 👀 Strongly speculating that Tsumiki has Yorozu's curse technique, but I'll be here waiting patiently for whatever you have planned for 'Miki as the story progresses.. I'm so happy she's alive and well istg 🥹😭)

Side note: There's the rare and occasional story where Tsumiki is present alongside Gojo's love interest and Megumi, and I feel so bad for Tsumiki most of the time, because imagine being a normal human in a "family" full of sorcerers. I don't care how loving that family is portrayed to be, it still has to be an isolating experience. Being the odd one out always sucks, but I guess that depends on the person anyways. Some actually revel in being the odd one out... (👀 looking at you, Suguru, and your biological family of non-sorcerers).

And and and... the way Satoru and Yura both notice that there's something different about the way they look at each other throughout this chapter and just can't find the name for it actually kills me (in the best way). 🥹😭

Also her stuff in his closet? HADJSGKG Might as well live together at this point. 😭

These two have been falling deeper and deeper in love as this story progresses and they're hopelessly oblivious, and I know they're getting it together (in baby steps). 💘 It sends an arrow straight through my heart every time. The payoff when they realize it and acknowledge it themselves is going to be sooooo....

...She’d missed this. She’d missed him. Yura didn’t think twice before turning around in his arms, her whole body then sagging into him as pure relief washed over her .....she did push herself closer... and finally, she actually felt at home.

Home is where they're all together as a family... 🏡

Also, home = Satoru... Yura, you're so in love with him, how can you willfully brush it under the rug every time?

he held her close—unwilling to let go. (He’d stayed up a while after she had gone to sleep, just enjoying the way she felt back in his arms, before his own exhaustion took over and he too passed out.) --- Satoru turned his head, his gaze meeting hers. He hated seeing her eyes filled with worry again, and this time it was worry over him. He wanted to make it go away, he wanted to see her eyes lighting up with joy instead of this; he wished one of his abilities were snapping his fingers and making everything right again, but there was only so much that even the strongest could accomplish. So he only turned his body to her, pressing his face against her shoulder. Yura seemed surprised for a moment, but one of her hands eventually slid up his neck, slipping into his hair. Don’t worry about me, he wanted to say. His hands came up to her waist, lightly gripping at her shirt. Don’t worry about me or I’ll worry about you. —he’d lost Suguru, but he hadn’t lost her

"I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends~" 🎶🎧

There's something so sweet and tender and wonderful about being emotionally vulnerable and intimate with someone on this level in spite of the shit storm surrounding you.

Someone play this song on repeat for them until they realize it all, please. I'm begging~ 😭🙏 YOU'RE IN LOVE... They're so in love. 😩😭

One night he wakes Strange look on his face Pauses, then says You're my best friend And you knew what it was He is in love

Satoruuuuu, the signs~ the signs, I'm telling youuuu~ 😭😩

Your fic's an emotional rollercoaster, and I don't ever want to leave. 😁 I can't thank you enough for writing it and sharing it... always~

This message was an emotional rollercoaster, and I appreciated every bit of it ༼ಢ_ಢ༽

Satoru and Yura are so in love that their subconscious have already 100% accepted it, even if they won't actually put it into words. Like they've already accepted that they're a little family, and Yura's brain has already cemented that THESE ARE MY KIDS ILL KILL WHOEVER TRIES TO HURT THEM

(that's also me looking @ canon)

And yes, Yura has a whole section of her stuff in Satoru's closet now, just like Satoru has a drawer full of his stuff at her place too ehehe. Actually, they've got a bunch of each other's stuff scattered around their apartments, they're like halfway living together now--clothes, shoes, toothbrushes, other bathroom products... I mean, if someone were to just walk into Yura's place it would be painfully obvious that she has a boyfriend lol (Satoru's place is big so you'd have to go to his bedroom, but then yep, there's a woman living there too)

Tsumiki is one of them now! I wasn't actually planning for it initially lol but then it just made sense. Now I'm having to plan for more of her presence in later events, but that should be fun hehe. I'll just say that I'm planning stuff, but anything else would spoilers (◡‿◡✿)

But yeah, she was the odd one out in their little family (and any fics that actually bother to include her lmao). I think she might not have felt it so strongly growing up since Megumi wasn't a full-blow sorcerer at that point, but I think she'd eventually feel a little left out whenever she couldn't be included in jujutsu business. But not anymore tho!! ಠ⌣ಠ

Anyway, things are going to get a little bit better for them now (before it gets worse oop), so get ready for some fluffy but emotional moments in the next couple of chapters or so! And as always, thank you so much for reading and commenting like this <333 It truly is what keeps me writing, being able to share it with you guys <333 Thank you so much!

(...also there's a new School Stories oneshot incoming, beware ಠ‿ಠ)

EDIT: also lemme jam to that song while writing the next fluffy moment between them ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬

[ahmedmootaz]

Waves hand at you in greeting!

Hello dear author of my now favorite fanfic!

I just finished reading the Crimson Tears and Tears of Crimson chapter and have a couple questions.

The options at the time for Ayin was either giving in and getting distorted and/or fighting back and not get getting distorted, but what if he wasn't able to even make a choice and just died instead before he could either accept the Distortion's offer or reject it and speak to Carmen?

What would happen when it became very clear that he was well and fully dead and couldn't be brought back even by K Corp's serum or the Voice's powers?

Would X end up distorting instead to avenge Ayin?

Would the other Ayin's end up distorting?

Would Roland fall back into his meltdown forms?

Would the kids end up hearing the Voice who might offer to bring their papa/uncle back if they listened to her?

Would Carmen herself grieve and kill the entire Sweeper family?

And what about aftermath after the initial outburst? Would there be an uptick in Distortions since the Voice would be more emotional and Carmen would be in grief?

How would they get back without Ayin fixing the car and would Roland be able to tell X about the completed buttons to make the older again? Or would Roland hold off since telling X he had to lose his kids after he he already lost Ayin?

Dear Anonymous,

Eheheh, I am most delighted to see that you're a fan of Crimson Tears/Tears of Crimson; these were the Chapters I was looking forward to writing the most when I started AiP even as a mere storyboard in my mind, and they're often the two Chapters that seem to squeeze the most tears out of people, which gives me sustenance yes delicious tears makes me happy that I could get such a strong emotional response with my writing. As for your questions they're all very, very interesting indeed...

Starting off with your first one, what if Ayin simply died instead of Distorting or pulling through in spite of the Distortion's temptations...well, it would've been a very, very bad time for everyone involved. Not only would the Distortion have been struck by grief, thus likely going on a rampage and attempting to Distort all those around Ayin's corpse, perhaps even including the de-aged Librarians and Angela specifically...or maybe Carmen would manage enough emotional strength at that moment to fight off the Distortion entirely to check on Ayin, only to find that there is nothing to be done...

And when it comes to the A3...Well, I personally see them as part of Ayin's mind. They're not separate to him; they're all him, as TFMoA states. They're just...individual representations of the various different types of madness embedded within his mind, and so if Ayin is dead...well, so too would they perish.

It'd be a heartbreaking scenario, all around. If I were to say who would be most prone to Distorting, it'd be X; Roland has already gone through several Realisations and learnt how to be in tune with his emotions...at least, to a better degree than where he was at before the events of LoR. The de-aged Librarians, as emotional as they are, wouldn't be able to manifest as grandiose of Distortions, in my eyes, simply because of their age. The sudden shock and trauma may make them unable to even listen to Distorted!Carmen...if she even has time to try on them. If she, too, is struck by grief and isn't overpowered by Carmen (her normal self, that is), then she would likely attempt to mould the closest remnant of Ayin into the Distortion she'd hoped to create with Ayin...which puts X in an even more dangerous position...

Now whether or not X does Distort, that's a whole different story. I suppose, on the meta-end of the things, it would all depend on what sort of story I'd want to tell at the moment, but realistically, it depends on what Roland says at that very, very delicate moment. Ièm sure that all of the reasons that would push X towards Distorting are very clear, but it's important to note that with the Sweepers dead, there is less incentive to Distort; a great many people have Distorted as a last-ditch effort to take revenge on someone/something or in the midst of a fight, and unless X sees the kids or Roland as his enemies...well, with the right words, perhaps a crisis can be averted...

Oh, I don't doubt for a second that the amount of Distortions would increase dramatically while the Distortion/Carmen lets out all of her grief...I suppose the question would be for how long, but as for the scale and violence? Yeah, I've not doubt it would be tremendous...and perhaps these particular Distortions will hunt and slay entire Sweeper families within the City, disrupting the evening sweeping sessions...hmmmm...

As for what would happen afterwards...I'm sure Roland has some experience with repairing basic mechanical components. He could get them home, eventually, and repair the car himself, but as for what happens next...As cruel as it is, I believe Roland would pick a safer path; Ayin wanted to tell X beforehand because they're sort-of-but-not-really brothers, and it was the proper thing to do in a situation like the one they were in in AiP. In a situation where Ayin is dead, and where his corpse is likely sitting in the Library as they dragged it back with them, anything that could possibly push X to Distort would be strictly avoided...especially with no other adults around to help Roland in case things get very, very ugly with the Distortion.

And so, as cruel as it is, I think Roland wouldn't tell X about the Reverse De-Agers. At least, he wouldn't tell him what they do; he'd quietly install them on the kids as little medals for the day, and when they wake up as adults...well, at least he'll have someone to help him deal with the absolute betrayal and meltdown X would endure...

Thank you for this very interesting ask, Anon! I always like my doses of angst quite...tasty, hehe. Until next time, be well, take care, and see ya'!

[autumnslance]

In your answer to an ask (and just to say it, I LOVE Aeryn and Thancred!), you wrote the following that really stuck out to me:

I can't find it, but at some point I've noted that characters that seem to "do their own thing" are really just our subconscious taking the wheel; we are responsible for our characters' builds and their choices, but for me, a "successful" character who unfolds like I'm discovering them and their life, who surprises me with choices and actions, is cuz I gave them a solid enough grounding, know who they are...and my unconscious goes from there, usually cuz my conscious is holding myself back due to all the usual fearful, imposter-syndrome-laden reasons.

That really resonated with me, especially considering the various discussions I had about that with pretty popular fanfic writers who have never understood how a character surprises a writer.

And I mean, I get the argument - as you said, we as the writers are controlling the character and the story. And still I get surprised by my characters, even if I deliberately bring them into a situation with an intended outcome - suddenly, I'm in the middle of a scene and go "No, wait, they wouldn't react that way / do that actually."

I never really had an answer to counter the "I control everything, I never get surprised by characters", but I think your point about having given them a solid enough groundwork and the subconscious drawing from that is very, very true.

Thank you; I'm still always a little surprised when people like my shippy nonsense! You'd think I'd have accepted that by now and yet.... 😅

And yeah, we know how we, the writers, respond to things and can want a scene to go. But if we are "listening" to our characters--to ourselves and how we built them, and trust those instincts, then the characters seem to take that "life of their own." We let go of our own inhibitions and what we know are the "right/correct/etc" choices and let the characters be themselves--be who we made them to be.

If I made my character to be impulsive, then she ought to be; while I deliberate over an action, to make sure it's the "right" one (optimal, moral, whatever)...am I writing what I know is the "best" choice, like choosing a particular path in a video game to get a specific ending, or am I being true to the personality I created, especially when my deliberations are hung up on "the character 'wants' to make this choice but..."

Because I made that character, with these personality traits and backgrounds informing her life, and if I am writing (or roleplaying) true to that then she can seem to "make her own decisions." But it's really decisions I pre-made in deciding who she was to begin with, and sometimes we slip things in there without realizing--like, for instance, an enjoyment of snarky, emotionally complicated, disaster rogues that for my dear WoL daughter turned into a romantic interest when consciously, I had no intention of a pairing. But the choices I made in creating Aeryn, and how playing/writing her to react to the story based on those creation decisions, made that interest the correct choice for the character when confronted with it. Then it became a matter of convincing myself to just roll with it, and figuring out how it would work--mutual or one sided pining, everything fine, disastrous attempt(s), etc. Based again, on how I made my girl, and how I saw and wrote for That Damn Rogue.

Anyway, the step after that is learning to let go, trust your own character creation and writing, and lean into that. Let the character make those choices, good or bad (sometimes the "bad" choice leads to more/better story, besides). It is all our own choices and control as the writer/player, it's just when did we make those decisions: in the moment, or ahead of time when deciding who this character is to begin with--and realizing how we sometimes make some unconscious choices that we can lean into, rather than fight against.

-----

Now in a RP situation, one might have to bend or wrangle the character more to not entirely screw over the party/scene partners; a little mayhem and bad choices can be good, but not to the point of being a disruptive dick about it with the excuse of "that's just my character!" That either means the character has to (relatively quickly) grow and change as a person with their player considering how that will best work...or the character (or maybe the player) is not suited for that group/situation. Depends on if everyone's cool with it and having fun, or whether someone's trying to spotlight hog in a shared group setting, or just didn't make/bring a character appropriate for that group/situation/setting/etc.

RP characters should be made with a mind toward being somewhat team players, even if not outwardly. Otherwise the player isn't going to have too good a time trying to get into social situations--or especially at a closed game, if not taking their group and the GM's story into account. I saw it a lot at our LARP back in the day, and have seen it too at many open social events in MMOs; someone makes a mysterious loner who hangs at the fringes, doesn't have much reason to be there, and the player is bored or even upset no one's interacting with their uninvolved character (Edgy broody loners can be done, but I think often requires a little experience in knowing how to balance that with the needed social interaction aspect--and also already having some OOC connections that can be relied on to play off of and form connections with IC to draw those characters in).

So it again comes down to choices made early on, and how that will affect the "yes and..." situations once actually roleplaying them, and letting those early choices, conscious and subconscious lead the way, but with a little more deliberation and consideration for the other players.

[classified-bluerose]

FAVOURITE TAYLOR LYRICS FROM EVERY ALBUM - SPEAK NOW

1. and i remember that fight, two-thirty a.m, when everything was slipping right out of our hands // mine

2. drop everything now, meet me in the pouring rain, kiss me on the sidewalk, take away the pain // sparks fly

3. i miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right, and how you held me in your arms that september night, the first time you ever saw me cry // back to december

4. i hear the preacher say, 'speak now, or forever hold your peace', there's the silence, there's my last chance, i stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me... horrified looks from everyone in the room, but i'm only looking at you // speak now

5. you are an expert at sorry, and keeping lines blurry, never impressed by me acing your tests // dear john

6. all you are is mean, and a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life, and mean // mean

7. the battle's in your hands now, but i would lay my armour down if you said you'd rather love than fight, so many things that you wish i knew but the story of us might be ending soon // the story of us

8. so i tuck myself in, and turn my nightlight on // never grow up

9. please don't be in love with someone else, please don't have somebody waiting on you // enchanted

10. but sophistication isn't what you wear or who you know, or pushing people down to get you where you wanna go // better than revenge

11. time turns flame to embers, you'll have new septembers, every one of us has messed up too // innocent

12. he will try to take away my pain, and he just might make me smile, but the whole time i'm wishing it was you instead // haunted

13. you can plan for a change in the weather and time, but i never planned on you changing your mind // last kiss

14. and the cynics were outraged, screaming 'this is absurd!', 'cause for a moment a band of thieves in ripped-up jeans got to rule the world // long live

15. your hands are tough but they are where mine belong, and, i'll fight their doubt and give you faith with this song for you // ours

16. he's got his mother's eyes, his father's ambition // superman

FROM THE VAULT:

17. i'm trying hard not to look like i'm trying, 'cause every time i tried hard for love it fell apart // electric touch ft. fall out boy

18. and all the bad boys would be good boys if they only had the chance to love her // when emma falls in love

19. i can see you, in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying 'meet me tonight' // i can see you

20. i held that grudge, 'til it tore me apart. power went to my head and i couldn't stop, ones i loved tried to help so i ran them off//my foes and friends watched my reign end, i don't know how it could have ended this way. smoke billows from my ships in the harbour, people look at me like i'm a monster, now they're screaming at the palace front gates used to chant my name now they're screaming that they hate me, never wanted you to hate me // castles crumbling ft. hayley williams

21. you know how to keep me waiting, i know how to act like i'm fine, don't know what to call this situation, but i know i can't call you mine // foolish one

22. as i started looking 'round at these precious things that time forgot// if i first saw your face in the 1500's, off in a foreign land, and i was forced to marry another man, you still would've been mine, we would've been timeless // timeless

[undeadsides]

THE SIDES INTRODUCTION!

Divider credit: BenKeiBear and Anlain-Aishang

Note: my sides used to have older names, based off of how I used to hoard names. I used to hoard only names that started with "M"s, so I thought it'd be fun to give all my sides "M" names. I changed them so they could be different and because I do not hoard only "M" names anymore, but you might still see their old names floating around. My sides also use different pronouns, because I use many, many pronouns.

The name "Undead Sides" is a play on "Sanders Sides". However, I don't want to reveal my last name, so instead I used my common username on most socials: IncrediblyUndead.

Undercut are my sides, some information on their relationships, and other silly facts.

(Through out this, I will be referring to myself in 3rd person & using random neopronouns)

EGOTISM — Memphis, he/she

[Plain text: egotism in all caps in pink]

Logo: a hand-held mirror. It's a charm on Memphis' phone.

Memphis represents Revenge's egotism, confidence, (maybe unhealthy amounts of) self-love, and selfishness. She only cares about himself (& Revy) and is willing to do anything to get what Revenge deserves— whether that be through normal conversation or manipulation (... it's usually manipulation). He has a very black and white way of thinking, viewing Revenge and herself as better than those around them, along with thinking they can do no bad or make mistakes.

(Imagine a fusion of Roman and Janus, but if they were much more extreme in their self-confidence and selfishness, & you've got yourself a Memphis)

IMPULSE — Maddox (Madds), it/its

[Plain text: impulse in all caps in red]

Logo: an explosion (similar to the 💥 emoji), placed on both sides of its combat boots.

Maddox represents Revy's impulsivity, controlling a lot of xyr anger issues and violent thoughts. It makes quick judgements, before hearing the full story, and will hold grudges til the ends of the earth. It also represents a lot of Revenge’s self-perseverance, thinking that its actions are helping protect ore. Despite its aggressive and unsympathetic nature, Madds cares heavily for those it finds pleasant (or "not as annoying as everyone else", as it puts it) and will jump in harms way to protect them.

PARANOIA — Payne, xe/xyr/xyrs

[Plain text: paranoia in all caps in orange]

(Used to be: Mercury/Mercs) (also pretend thats yellow and not orange)

Logo: a weird wiggly swirl on xyrs choker.

Payne represents Revenge's paranoia, fear, and overall distrust of others. Xe controls a lot of Revy’s schizophrenic symptoms and intrusive thoughts, but does NOT represent pups schizophrenia. In a case of “ducking out” (something that is impossible in FMP), Payne’s removal would not get rid of Revy’s schizophrenia, but rather cool down a lot of Revy's fear. Payne has a lot of the same goals as Maddox, wanting to protect Revenge, but rather than wanting to beat the shit out of everything, xe would rather run away to get to safety. Payne also has very black and white thinking. Xe holds people xe finds dear as close as possible, while pushing anyone else as far as possible.

COMPASSION — Finnick, he/him

[Plain text: compassion in all caps in green]

(Used to be: Melvin)

Logo: clasped hands as a patch, over his heart, on his battle jacket.

Finnick represents Revy's compassion and care for everyone and the planet earth, along with xyrs low/no empathy. He tends to be objective, wanting to hear everyone’s side of the story and be fair, even when the situation doesn’t call for it. Despite looking unemotionless and sounding monotone, he is often referred to the “nicest” side out of the bunch. He can be overbearing at times with his care and tends to focus in the solution part of a problem, rather than the emotional part.

CREATIVITY — Wentz, or Xx_w3ntzz_xX, he + any neopronouns

[Plain text: creativity in all caps in light blue]

(Used to be: Medusa)

Logo: N/A, as a perler bead necklace.

Wentz represents Revy’s creativity, (potentional) logic, and love for horror, morbid topics, and sexual topics. Nya controls a lot of Revy’s infodumping and hyperfixations and love for research. He doesn’t recognise how his actions or interests can affect others, being loud and annoying and overtalking about not-so-acceptable topics, like what decomposing does to the human body or fetishes; though, nya doesn’t mean any harm. Woof tends to be sensitive to rejection, or what woof assumes to be rejection.

FATIGUE — Nyx, ey/em/eir

[Plain text: fatigue in all caps in purple]

(Used to be: Maven, they/them)

Logo: multiple Zs (similar to the 💤 emoji) as a pin on eirs beanie.

Nyx represents Revenge's fatigue and apathy, controlling a lot of xyr executive dysfunction and general tiredness, however, Nyx does NOT represent Revy's CFS/ME (in the same way Payne does not represent schizophrenia). Nyx tends to be disinterested in everything around em, more focused on emself. Opposite of Memphis though, who’s focused on herself due to viewing himself as inherently Better, Nyx is focused on emself because ey have no energy to care for other people.

My sides are all based on the colour of the rainbow, just like the Sanders Sides are. I do not have an indigo side (which is plot relevant in Flush My Psyche) and I/my self-inserts am the "orange" one.

Some tidbits:

All the sides, minus for Nyx, use canes that are decorated to fit themselves. Memphis' is focused on design and how it looks, rather than usability; Maddox's is falling apart, due to how often it hits things with it; Wentz's cane is decorated in stickers and charms; Finnick's cane has spikes near the bottom and a few political stickers; and Payne's cane has the occassional band sticker.

Nyx uses a wheelchair and occassionally crutches.

The concept of "dark sides" and "light sides" do not exist, as I never viewed any part of me as inherently evil or bad and wasn't raised catholic. (In fact, I'm actually an atheistic satanist so... there would be no way.)

Maddox and Payne could be viewed as on other sides of the same spectrum, both wanting to protect Revenge, but having different ideas on how to do that. They could also represent Fight or Flight: Maddox being fight, Payne being flight.

Maddox and Payne also have similar goals in mind: protect Revenge, any means necessary. Madds and Payne get along better than any of the sides.

Madds and Finnick tend to butt heads a lot— Madds wants to spring into action (usually, a violent action), while Finnick would rather wait until all facts and feelings are known and then make a judgement about action. They argue a lot about what's the best option in any scenario.

(Despite arguing, they will still drop everything for each other, even if they won't admit that outloud. Or know it, themselves.)

Despite Memphis', Nyx's, and Madd's standoffish behavior, the other sides still treat them with respect and care— often to their dislike (or indifference, in Nyx's case).

Nyx falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. It is no surprise to see the sides standing around em, like a shield, as ey sleep in public.

Wentz likes to type, and speak, in "scene speak". How co speaks in it is unknown. But co does it!

Wentz loves to gift people things! ... usually they're realistic and detailed paintings of Their Death. (In FMP, Wentz paints one of these gifts for c!Thomas... He doesn't appreciate it much.)

Wentz is an early 2000s scenester, Payne is a stereotypical myspace emo, and Finnick is a cripplepunk.

(They are these things because I am a cripplepunk scenemo)

Nyx dresses is comfy clothes and usually with lots and lots of layers, as ey has a hard time regulating eir body tempature. Plus, since ey is sleeping everywhere, it's important ey feels comfortable enough to sleep.

Memphis wears ""skimpy"" clothing, often with crop-tops and even smaller miniskirts. Her signature outfit is a tight, bright pink miniskirt, bright pink bra, a neon pink fluffy oversized coat, and fluffy pink knee-high platforms. He loves to go all out and be the center of attention.

Madds wears, like, the "mean, emo big brother" in any disney movie outfits. It especially enjoys wearing shorts that reaches its knees and a hoodie, because there is something desperately wrong with it. (Joke)

Memphis is the tallest side, Wentz is the shortest.

Wentz was the most recent side created! The other sides were made back in middle school or my freshman year of high school, while Wentz was made late 2019 - early 2020.

The sides used to have different traits, before I decided on their current ones:

Anxiety -> Delusion -> Paranoia

Morality -> Compassion

Logic -> Fatigue

Confidence -> Egotism

Violent Thoughts -> Impulse

Payne, Finnick, & Nyx used to be my only sides as I was trying to match the sides' traits in Sanders Sides, but later realised they're my sides and can be whatever I want.

None of my sides represent any of my disabilities or neurodivergencies, because I am uncomfortable with the concept of them "ducking out" & therefore removing my symptoms and traits. (Which is why Payne and Nyx do not represent schizophrenia or CFS/ME, respectively, but rather "control" them— in the same way Remus does not represent Intrusive Thoughts, but Creativity, and simply controls c!Thomas' intrusive thoughts)

(Using Remus is a bad example, as his character jumps around a lot.)

[blocksruinedme]

SMALLETHO WEEK STATUS: PENULTIMATE REPORT

(please let this be penultimate report)

Okay I have 11 hours to get these out in saturday my time zone and i am going to do it, or i'll take my me off and throw me in the lake (it's right there down the street I'll do it.)

You'd think they'd be done by now. You'd think given how many days ago they were first "basically drafted" they'd be done right now. But noooo, some bitch (me) decided the fic "deserve more" and there are scenes "they really need" and like fine yes I still agree but why can't they just be done.

Red Life fic:

the first three sections are about incidents after turning red than made etho go "huh" about joel. they serve their purpose, but currently exist mostly in the form i scrawled down on the back of another fic in my car after the dentist. I could def describe things more, add a little more reflection about their place in the double life ecosystem as they start murdering and burning

gotta make good kiss at end, and the last bits of lead in, and the little bit after

the main issues here is that i gotta go rewatch DL ep 4 from multiple POVs. at minimum i need pearl's pov of dying, and maybe check for some other people's reactions to joel's shit that are not in smalletho vids but in universe they would have heard. (if only i could shove knowledge of every traffic episode fully into my head, sigh. so much content.

so that's not too bad!

fuck me there's 36 [] around words i don't like/phrases that need to be replaced/etc. fml fml fml

LARPer au morning after fic

apparently i'm adding all this backstory, which means i got to take it out o the author's notes, which i hope will make it more appealing. it's mostly about the party that this is morning after, but it's joel pov and *very* focused on getting laid, he's kinda aware that a lot of shit went down for pretty much everyone else

i want to add a very quick awkward bit with joel asking jimmy about the party the night before, currently he's totally succeeding at making joel (who is very distracted) think he's fine. and it's not gonna get explained in this story, but i'm not setting up a giant mystery, it's just more of "joel missed some shit last night". if that upsets people... i'm sorry! i'm actually very new t writing fic but it feels fine? it's a 5k story, alluding to the rest of the world seems fine

then it's just, fuck holding my breath... 40 sets of []. many many many of them, when i have people look at them, they say "that's fine", and it's just me at "will i have a time to struggle for a synonym/rephrasing

Dear everyone who compliments my writing skill (which i love, keep on doing it)

i hope you are not comparing yourself to me. here's some reasons why i probably have a leg (several legs?) up on you

i am very old and have been writing in one way or another possibly since before you could write.

I legit used to teach sat prep in writing, i have been trained in this and made money on it

if you live like i do, when you are my age you will also have a pretty big vocabulary

i usually edit a lot. I get beta, i throw problem sentences and such at friends, i've gotten proofreading from actual professionals. If i published most of my first drafts, well. I might not get as many "well written" compliments (though i think my plot and characterization would be similar levels of quality, my voices not so much - i have google docs for the way people talks and go through my dialogue looking for places to change things. it's actually great. i could share it?)

it's wild that what is my most popular fic by 3x is the one that went from thought of to posted in <12 hours and thus had only quick editing. so, it's not alway from editing

i just never want anyone who doesn't have those things to compare themself negatively to me, y'know? That said I'm a hypocrite, I compare myself negatively to professional writers in other fandoms. So, do as i say, etc

am i avoiding getting back to writing? yes

back to joel talking about asking scott to help him get tarted up

okay one last thing, me being pleased with my writing - i am jumping between my early 20s larper au and my late 20s/30s burning man au, and i think i am doing a good job at giving age appropriate characterizations to similar version of the same characters. my 21 year old Etho feels 21 to me and my early 30s Etho feels early 30s to me. These ensembles are very much based on my own experiences so I've got a lot to work with, 60 year olds would be harder :)

[starseneyes]

Give Yourself Permission to Let Go

It was 2006, my last semester at University. I was about to accidentally cancel my own four-hour scavenger hunt engagement. But, that's a story for another blog. No, today my mind is on the semester I spent as an Assistant Teacher.

To graduate with Honors there were a myriad of choices of requirements. I chose to join three other students as Assistant Teachers for a Communications class of 200 students. As part of the program, we had to teach three classes ourselves.

Welp, you can guess where this is going, can't you?

At the end of the semester (my engagement ring firmly planted on my finger by this point), the 200 students had the opportunity to write up their thoughts on our teaching.

Now, I think this was a huge mistake. It's completely subjective, for one, and we were each given the results for all four of us. So, I could see where I might be criticized and where the other three might not.

Of course, they were criticized, too. Of course, I had praises, too. But I fixated on every. little. mistake. On every perceived weakness. And once I finished reading the notes, I should have tossed them in the bin.

Instead, those notes traveled with me through my move out of my father's house (cheaper to stay there for Uni) and into my rental with my husband. It wasn't until we were preparing for the second move to our starter home that I finally realized what I was doing—reliving the hurt.

I thought that I needed to remind myself of my failures because I was really awful and terrible and shouldn't ever think I was anything good. This is leftover trauma response from my childhood, I later realized.

I put so much merit into what others thought of me—even strangers—that I didn't believe anything good that slipped in and out of my mind about myself.

At long last, I held that blasted stack of papers in my hand and instead of giving them one last read, I chucked them in the bin.

Now, this isn't to say that you shouldn't take constructive criticism. We all have something to learn and can stand to grow and develop.

But not all criticism is constructive, and not all notes need to be taken. Learning to tell the difference is a skill, and one I'd never honed.

If you're like me, here are a few pointers:

Not all notes are good notes, so don't take them personally.

Take the notes that seem like good ones.

Don't hold onto the bad notes, even if they're good.

That last one might sound contradictory, but I have a point.

See, sometimes you get bad notes and they sting. Oh, they burn. But they ache with truth. With something we have to learn or a way we can grow.

So, yes, receive those notes. Learn from them. Grow from them. Then let them go.

Because if you truly put in the work, then the person who received that note no longer exists. And you don't need to keep revisiting that note any more than you need to revisit the person you've left behind.

Give yourself permission to let go of the ache of the note and the painful memory of a version of yourself who no longer exists.

Rachel of 2009 looked back at Rachel of 2006 and saw so. much. growth. The person who stood in front of board rooms and gave presentations was not the same one who stood in front of a classroom teaching lessons all those years earlier.

I didn't need to look at the bad notes anymore. I learned what I needed to from them long ago, and the renewed pain with each updated read did nothing to help me grow further.

I wish I'd let go sooner.

So, dear ones, don't carry the burdens of past notes that don't do you any good. Release them. Even if they were good notes at the time, you've learned all you can learn from them. It's time to move on.

[sweatandwoe]

SI Soulmates AU

@chickenparm​ and I, Me and Michealed in this chilis tonight. ATL SOULMATE AU HERE. GO READ IT. IT’S VERY GOOD!

Some AU content so I can try and get my brain to write more actual canon content for SI. HERE WE GO

Act 1!Silco/F!Reader Secret Ingredient!AU - Soulmates (The first thing you say to one another appears on your wrists.)

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Silco is quite sure that he has the strangest Soul Words to have ever popped up on Runeterra. The words that his soulmate will first say to him. It was something so mundane, yet odd. “I thought you might be hungry.” Sprawled over his left wrist, that made his brow furrow and his fingers scratch at his head. 

The words carry an almost familiarity to them. But someone he had never spoken to? He supposed there were odder situations. It would be the first time they’d ever speak to one another. Impersonal was probably the more common way it happened, but most novels and plays seemed to make it out to be something romantic. 

It feels almost like the universe is mocking him. Like it had already happened so many times in his life. The betrayal of his brother, the destruction of his rebellion. One big joke that Piltover probably had never even heard about because it landed without any sort of hit. 

He keeps a band over the words to hide the ridiculousness of them and to keep them hidden. Soul Marks aren’t common, not in the Undercity, and he’d prefer if no one knew about it. So instead he makes sure the band is pretty, that it just looks decorative, matching his style. 

Silco doesn’t hide his eye or the scars, so no one should assume he’d hide anything else. 

Despite his attempts to ignore it though, it has a tendency to pop up or be reminded when he least expects it. Like today, as he left his lookout post after hours of waiting and watching on a particularly boring day; even the boss had to get his hands dirty. But as he climbed down the ladder along the side of the apartment building he’d been perching off of, he was almost startled by what he spotted at the ledge of a window next to the ladder. 

A plate, with a sandwich and a small note attached. On a ledge that was easily two stories above the ground. 

It was suspicious, the curtains were drawn over the window, so he couldn’t peer in. But whatever was in the sandwich smelled good, and when his fingers brushed the note next to it, there was still some warmth lingering from it. Still, he went for the note first, unfolding it carefully before running his eyes over it. 

Dear Man On The Roof,

I’ve been noticing you on the roof for the past week or so now. You’re there as I leave for work and as I come home. I doubt you take a lunch break, and I don’t like the thought of anyone going hungry. 

If I come back to an empty plate, I’ll be sure to make another for tomorrow. If it remains full, I may still make one tomorrow in case this one got missed. 

Best regards. 

It’s signed under a name he doesn’t recognize. Not someone that ran in his circles that was for sure. Or Vander’s at that. A quick glance at the sandwich and he can hear his stomach gurgle, it was true he hasn’t eaten for hours. 

When he picks it up it’s still warm in his hands still, as he lowers himself down the ladder until he reaches the ground again. And then he takes a bite, and it’s just as good as it smells. Enough that he devours the entire thing within a few moments, and walks back to the factory a little more satisfied than usual. 

He does make Singed watch over him for the next few hours, just in case anything bad was in there. But nothing had happened. Someone just being kind to him. 

For the next week Silco has a sandwich waiting for him, warm and on fresh bread, each time he climbs down at the end of his watch. At the end of the week, he’s almost startled to see the plate there again in the beginning. But today it holds a muffin, with only a small note of ‘you should be eating breakfast too’ on it. 

The next morning, he leaves a few coins on the ledge as he takes the muffin up to the roof with him. 

There is a note when he gets his sandwich at the end of the day. 

I don’t want your money. I just want you to be fed. 

He rolls his eyes, and places more coins on the ledge. Before turning the paper over, and grabbing a piece of charcoal from his pocket to messily scribble down. 

Take it. As a thank you. 

There’s two muffins the next day, and one of them is filled with chocolate. 

The routine continues for some time. And though he knows the other person is home, the curtains always remain drawn and there’s never more than a note, usually asking what kind of sandwich he’d like for tomorrow. He has no idea who they are.

 But there is a growing curiosity, to actually meet who it was. Who was the silent chef who kept trying to feed him out of the goodness of their heart? 

One time he tried to rap his knuckles against the window, tapping at the glass long enough that he realised he was probably being a fucking creep, and had left a little faster, tripping on the last step. 

Eventually he figures he should just ask, because curiosity has been burning into his brain. So he brings a note of his own, with only the words ‘Can I meet you?’ written on it. It’s silly, it’s stupid, he should not be thinking about it so hard. He’s half tempted just to throw the damn thing out, but he switches it out with the muffin on the plate, using a few coins to hold it down. 

There is no sandwich when he leaves that day, and he mentally begins to kick himself. He shouldn’t have pushed it. 

They had probably seen the scars at least, the apartment building wasn’t that tall. Or the glow of his left eye. Maybe coming face to face had been too much to ask. 

There’s no muffins the next morning either. And only a few hours later, when his stomach begins to rumble, he realises how used he had gotten to the mystery person feeding him. He’ll need to pack a lunch from now on. Something he should’ve been doing from the beginning, so he wouldn’t have ever needed to feel this hurt again. 

Lookout duty isn’t hard, but it is boring. He found himself sitting on the rooftop, watching the streets as his men worked. Often he’d find himself heading down onto the street, to help his men make an exchange or a deal before he’d head back up, in between probably when the mystery person was on shift. 

Today though, he is bored enough to keep an ear out too. Which is why he can hear the soft mumbling, and the sound of footsteps on the ladder. 

His knife is drawn, steady in his hands as he approaches the edge of the roof. When he peers over the ledge, down the ladder, he blinks. 

You were there, grumbling as you tried to balance a plate of two sandwiches. Whispering under your breath, as you climb, how you were not going to look down. So instead you look up, and squeak. 

Your eyes meet for the first time, and Silco suddenly realises something that makes his stomach flip; you’re beautiful. 

Gingerly a hand raises the plate above your head, and he understands enough to take it. Setting it down on the rooftop, the two sandwiches balanced carefully, before he’s offering you a hand. Easily helping you up, as your throat bobs when you settle in front of him. 

But your eyes aren’t widening with fear, so your swallow isn’t from that. Which does nothing to help how his stomach was flipping. 

And then you open your mouth. “I thought you might be hungry.” 

And Silco blinks. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out for a moment. His wrist is burning under his band. Your hands begin to fiddle with one another, but it’s when your lips part again to say something that he quickly manages to pull words together. “I’m just happy to meet you.” 

And then your eyes are widening. But then, a smile is growing on your face. You hold out your hand, sliding up your sleeve to expose your wrist as you do. He examines the same words that had just come from his mouth, with a small smile of his own. 

He removes his band and lets you trace over them. Then he gets your name finally. 

“Why did you stop yesterday?” He asks with a frown, as you both settle on the rooftop. There is barely a moment gone before he takes a bite of the sandwich, enjoying the flavour, and swallowing before he continues to speak. “I could’ve starved you know.” 

Your answer comes out of you easily, even if it’s accompanied by a little shy look. “I worked some extra hours yesterday, and went in earlier this morning. I wanted to be able to spend actual time with you, so you didn’t have to stay later than you already do.” 

Your answer has his heart already beating fast, beginning to feel already a soft warmth that starts in his wrist and spreads into his chest. Things he knows he’s allowed to feel because well, you’re the one for him. Or at least the universe has decided that you are. Though the longer he looks at you, and talks to you, maybe he and the universe can agree this time.