#put both of their tastes under a microscope

[rhetoricalsoapbox]

Little post of things I love about Richie Valence just because

1. His overly sharp and prominent canines

Cerillia makes fun of them sometimes, but she did it really frequently after she found out about his “Dauphine Street Ripper” identity.

Richie is a little conscious of them, but his pathetic ass likes to scare little kids (and so does Ceri honestly) so he puts them to use where he can. He does find it funny when Cerillia teases him about them though.

2. His little car

Richie drives a 1962 Studebaker Lark Daytona (hardtop), and I just find it really cute for him. It's in a pretty red that's the color of his favorite stone; jasper.

There's a part of me that thinks it's so funny for him to be the character that owns one, especially when this is it's advert:

Richie killed people with this little car.

I think it's also extremely funny that Cerillia managed to somehow keep a 6'0 tall Richie in the trunk of one of these flawlessly.

3. His stims

Richie stims by tapping his fingers either on the side of his leg or on the side of a pen(cil). He also has a habit of humming one phrase or rythym from a song over and over again.

4. The Nancy Sinatra Song

'How Does That Grab You, Darling?" is one of Richie's favorite songs, and I absolutely love it for him.

He'll sing it whenever he hears it, but my favorite thing about that is the fact that he never changes up the pronouns or terms.

He will very boldly sing "How does that grab you darling? This girl is leaving you behind." and he doesn't ever consider saying anything other than 'girl.'

In fact, sometimes he'll say that word a little louder than the rest of the words.

5. His music taste in general

Richie is a big fan of girl groups like the Supremes, and he really likes singers like Aretha Franklin and Roberta Flack.

He absolutely loves Lesley Gore - and if he could actually sing well at all - he'd probably give you one of his little dream performances of him singing her songs.

Some of his favorites of her's are: Cry Me A River, Just Let Me Cry, Misty, You Don't Own Me, California Nights, What Kind Of Fool Am I?, The Old Crowd, and Fools Rush In (Where Angels Fear To Tread).

[raointean]

Funniest responses* to the "What does "Blorbo" mean?" question

(In reference to my silmarillion fandom linguistics project, the results of which you can find in my "survey says" tag)

*not necessarily the full response, some are just fragments from longer responses. Also, I'm not filtering by "correct" or "incorrect" responses

Special Little Guy (gender neutral)

Lmao. That's like, my special little guy. He takes up my brain space. I'm rotating him.

you know how lilo from lilo and stitch has that doll she made, complete with backstory? basically like that

one's blorbo is a character one cares a lot about. it kind of has like... condescending or woobifying connotations? like expressing that Maedhros is your blorbo is sort of uh... one imagines like, a chibi Maedhros. cute, not scary. but it doesn't necessarily imply the speaker has distorted perception of the character in general, just a sort of fondness

The character a person wants to use as a doll/stuffed animal

A character who the author loves too much (and knows it)

"OMG Blorbo was in the new trailer for 5 seconds!" is a common statement

which often provokes... strange thoughts at 11pm.

Beloved character who you think about entirely too much and also enjoy putting in Situations

It implies some degress of being pathetic as well.

No relation to Blorbo Baggins.

The character you put under a microscope, put through the cheese grater, put into the salad spinner, and squeeze like a plushie.

A beloved character whom you want to both stick in a microwave and protect with all you have

character one fangirls* over (*gender neutral)

Just a little guy, whom I am deeply enamored of and just want to squish on the head and see what happens.

Favourive character, often pathetic, someone to pity as much as love

obsessed. baby. Will run my mouth off about them

the word "favorite" wasn't enough to encapsulate "the exact kind of character made specifically for me in the lab" either. my friendgroup started calling those types of characters "callouts" because they were calling you out by existing Exactly To Your Tastes

(not necessarily in a way that condones their actions, but deeply beloved nonetheless)

The "cinnamon roll" kind. Idk I love Namo but I'd never call him a blorbo, it just wouldn't feel right.

??

dear?

My personal favourite character, whom I want to adopt even if he's a dark lord

A particularly beloved (or beloathed-in-a-positive-way) character.

Generally seem to be problematic favs.

I think it was originally meant to be somewhat mocking, but it was wholeheartedly adopted and is now used unironically.

A favored character that usually is subjected to great amounts of trauma and or fluff.

A favourite character, usually male

The obsession character

Feanor/character you are unreasonably attached to esp. if they are a Bad Person TM

The character who is most special and beloved to you (and often that means you're gonna put them through The Horrors)

a character that makes you chew on the bars of your enclosure

Special little character from my shows(tm)

usually having an aura of kicked wet puppy (brimby)

You'd build a shrine to them

Idk, ask the children 😹. Er. Hot character you like? I'm sure people have very complex definitions explaining why they like the hot character but I don't take fandom that seriously.

Your guy (gender neutral), not a comfort character, but perhaps a character you would like to see experience the worst situations possible (affectionate)

occasionally blorbo from my floor (my cat)

Just a widdle pathetic guy 🥺😈

A favourite character, thuogh usually one you squash like a stress ball or squeaky toy rather than put gently on a shelf

Ungoliant

Guy (gender neutral) who I hold in my hand like a neat rock and look at

character whom i will put in a glass and shake

character you are putting in the metaphorical salad spinner

A favourite character, often a war criminal treated like they did nothing wrong, they are a little kitty

(character you're particularly attached to and usually put in physically and/or mentally torturous situations for fun)

A character you’ve imprinted on and like seeing in misery. They’re your wet cat you enjoy pouring water on but also toweling off

Your favorite character, to whom no harm may come (except in the service of angst)

my guy. my friend my buddy. the person

Literally your favourite ever character, but not like you want to f*ck them, more like "how much can i let them suffer?"

Your favouritest character from media that you like to put in all kinds of situations, but is not morally problematic.

favourite character you want to bully

a fictional character that you like to an obsessive amount, typically more than other favourite characters; your specialist little guy; someone you are unwell about; you don’t always have to like your blorbo per day but they must take up constant thought space

[stuck-writing-sickos]

Slick (yandere coworker)

ONE

[Masterlist]

T/w: suggestive, violence, gore

So you got jokes, don't you now?

You notice my keen interest, and it makes you nervous. I'm sorry to see your darting eyes searching for an escape whenever I approach you, but that is all I will be sorry for. You see, I don't care if you find me off-putting: I like to see whichever way you react.

I have drifted through a couple of countries. I assume so have you. Cultures may vary, but under laws, social etiquettes, cuisine and fashion, we all aren't so different. We eat and sleep. We feel good when we get what we want, and we feel bad if we don't. And since not everyone is aware of how similar we are, most of us like people who agree with us a little (or sometimes, unfortunately, a lot) more than the rest. You would assume I am a cynic, but I in fact celebrate this persistent likeness among us all. I think it is humanity. Wouldn't you agree?

And what I rejoice in even more so is the effort that we put into controlling these primal instincts. Self control - a rare and remarkable virtue. You work hard on it: punctual, courteous, and moderate on all front. I like to see it, the way you resist your emotions at any given point to upkeep this image. What minotaur are you keeping away in this intricate prison you have built? Let me in.

You see, I don't want to sleep with you. Sure... it would be nice, but that isn't my end-goal at all. If I were to, it would have been out of morbid curiosity. I want more than sex. I need to know you like an autopsy. I want to cut you open, peeling through your skin, cutting through your muscles, and opening you up to take a look at the way your organs are arranged. I will be precise, I promise, in both slicing you open and sealing you back up. All I want to do is look.

With how wary you are around me, I didn't expect for you to say yes to dinner. Maybe you were sick of eating alone, or maybe you just felt rude not to. Either way, I could tell that whichever reasons compelled you, it wasn't about me at all. No matter.

Again, this isn't about you.

You courteously ordered the mid-range price item. I asked if you were sure. You said you liked that dish. Do you, now? I didn't correct you. You refused wine, even when you were not driving home. You didn't think I would notice you coming in from an Uber, did you? I pretended not to see you coming in - you're not the sole clever one between us. I didn't push it anyhow. I liked what I was seeing: you were cautious and observant, safe under you soft-spoken exterior.

You asked me questions. You wanted to know where I grew up, if I had any siblings, how college was for me,... so on and so forth. You didn't answer any of mine - not really. I got a little antsy, I admit. Not every day do I see someone not keen on talking about themselves.

So you got my history and I got that you grew up "pretty far from here", that your hometown was "quaint but charming", that you went to college for "a degree you "aren't even practicing right now". Funny. You got jokes, don't you? You gave me a little taste of my own medicine. I felt as if we were trying to meet eyes through our own microscopes.

I didn't push you to open up. I thought entertaining your questions would loosen your guard eventually, but you were committed to your fortress. Fine... all good. I could still watch the way you move, precise and gentle as you maneuver around the table with candles, empty glasses and flower vase. You were too smooth, as if holding back a force. It was as if I was looking at a pressure cooker. This level of management implied, at least - from my humble opinion - a boiling chaos from underneath. After all, equilibrium can only be attained by equal forces.

You kept yourself so effortlessly mysterious, it made me wonder why you would even go on this date with me. I bumbled my way through the food and dessert, antsy and eager to see a crack on your mask to no use. I suppose you got into my head... not the other way around. Still, you kept me going - your elusiveness thrilled me.

As I said, I like anomalies.

You got me so good, that by the end of the night past all the talking and electricity, my confidence took such a hit that I offered to drive you home with my tail between my legs. I would love to say I was taking it slow, that I was enjoying the process of solving the puzzle that you were, but truth is I was ashamed of myself. You didn't unravel the way I hoped you would, and I protected myself with the conviction that you were a robot, and that I wasn't that interested in your process after all.

So you could imagine the surprise when you tilted your head with the most deviously clueless look and said "really? I didn't think I was going home."

[kawaiixchaotic]

billie eilish has been dropping hints about her sapphic attraction for years but felt pressured out of the closet on the red carpet today, bc it's all the interviewers kept fixating on. yes she said she is physically attracted to women in an interview recently but ppl keep pushing for details that we are not entitled to. and everyone's so happy about it too, which is funny to me. y'all switch up quick. remember when y'all accused her of "queerbaiting" over a music video and an instagram caption? bc i do. the only reasoning you all had was that she had only ever (publicly) been with boys. as if one cannot like both boys and girls. as if one has to use dating history to earn queer credit if they are attracted to multiple genders. that, and her saying she was "straight as a ruler" one time when she was 15 or smthn, which, let's get real. we've all said that. i said that. and now I'm a lesbian.

a similar situation happened with kit connor from heartstopper. he held hands with a girl and you all went fucking ballistic. to me his case was worse bc he got practically kicked and shoved out of the closet. he didn't get to come out on his own terms. i hope you guys aren't still expecting anything from that poor kid, bc he doesn't owe any of you bullies anything, and i wouldn't blame him if thoughts about the heartstopper fandom leave a bad taste in his mouth to this day.

so why am i bringing all this up? bc there's something particular about the online LGBTQ+ community that has been bothering me for years now: Check your biphobia. Because clearly it is affecting your worldview a whole lot more than you think, no matter how young you are, or how progressive you think you are.

Any public figure who even alludes to liking multiple genders, you put under a microscope. you wait for them to "prove it" to you. any action they take that doesn't feel queer enough to you, you pounce. they are (i feel, deliberately) misinterpreted and ostracized, and what hurts most is, we are supposed to be there for anyone who is questioning their sexuality as a safe space, to help them figure themselves out, answer their questions. and yet somehow we've become their biggest opps. what hurts more is the fact that it's mostly very young people doing this! I don't know if you're all just looking for things to be mad at or what. But I could honestly rant about this for all of eternity so let me end it with this:

TLDR; by taking the stance that public figures have to show and prove their queerness, you are furthering biphobic stererotypes, and by drawing the ridiculous conclusion that an individual is "queerbaiting," (which is a corporate marketing tactic, ffs) you are freezing them in time and being unreasonable about the amount of growth and self-discovery we do as human beings. grace should not only be afforded to those who are "out," and only validating queerness if someone announces it is unfair and ignores the many circumstances that could prevent someone from coming out, like risking danger at home, legal persecution, or simply a want for privacy. STOP BEING SUCH INSUFFERABLE LITTLE ASSHOLES.

Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

... What if Walter became a vampire?

Actually, now that I think about it, that would be very bad for everyone involved. Like Mike said, the man is a time bomb and you don't want to be around for the boom.

Somehow, I can imagine Walter ends up destroying the Volturi and dooming humanity after a full season of thinking Aro is going to kill him any second.

The thing is, Walter White probably wouldn't run into the Volturi and he wouldn't really be able to conceptualize them as powerful people or people he wants to be (e.g. Gus). To him they'd be nutjobs who go around killing vampires and insist on them all being secret.

Walter agrees he shouldn't be near people as he ah tends to eat them but... well...

But to back up a bit, let's turn Walt into a vampire.

Walter White's Problems Go Sideways

We'll say that Walt has already started. He's learned he has lung cancer, he's found Jesse, he's killed Crazy Eight in his basement and had to do the cleanup, and things are not going great but meth is being made.

Then he gets eaten by a vampire.

Only, the vampire doesn't get very far because Walter and his radiated lung cancer tastes like shit (canonically, illnesses, substance abuse, etc. can seriously fuck with your taste). They scamper off, not having intended on turning cancer ridden Walter White, and Walter is left... very confused.

His skin is some strange carbon substance that under a microscope looks eeriely close to diamond. He's breaking everything he touches and uh... he ate a guy in a Walmart parking lot.

Walt desperately runs out into the desert and is terrified of going home a) looking like this b) having eaten someone. Something has gone very very very wrong with him and he doesn't think it's the cancer.

Then Walter realizes it doesn't matter.

He's dying anyway and he must provide for his family.

Walt puts on a hazmat suit he stole from a lab (as he now has no fingerprints), which helps with the um people smell that keeps driving him mad, and spends an episode bullying Jesse into helping him fake his death.

(Walter ends up eating another poor person and, not knowing what else to do, they shove the man in Walter's car then light it on fire. Walter White has now died in an awful awful car explosion.)

There's a very sad funeral that Walter attends from the shadows. Gretchen and Elliott show up, Hank gives a eulogy on how Walt was kind of a nerd, Walt hates it so much.

Jesse's asking what the fuck is going on, he's seen lung cancer and that ain't no stage he's ever heard of bitch, and Walter (who doesn't know the answer either) blows him off and tells Jesse he's stupid. They also have a lot of meth to make. Find a new Crazy Eight.

"You killed Crazy Eight," Jesse points out.

Yeah, well, let's get a new one.

So, Jesse regretfully goes to talk to Tuco. This goes poorly. Walt then has to go confront Tuco himself (which is um... bad news...) and ends up eating both Tuco and all of his people.

Walter decides not to tell Jesse this.

"I took care of Tuco" he says instead, having rescued their meth (and cash from Tuco's safe).

Jesse's impressed and a little disturbed, he has no idea how to answer this.

(Hank, meanwhile, thinks drug lords have reached a new low. Someone set their pet dog/bear/something on Tuco Salamanca and ate his entire face. Just. Wow. What a way to go. Hank is celebratory but even he's grossed out by this one.)

Well, Jesse and Walt (now always in a hazmat suit, by the way) are back to square one. They have a whole lotta meth and no one to sell it to.

Walt, slowly getting over his existential horror of being a cannibal, suggests that they sell it on the street. Jesse points out that's mad, the gangs control distribution, if they try to get in on that, massively, they are fucked.

"I can take care of it," Walter promises, having at this point tested out his new, invulnerable, ridiculously strong body.

Walter is easily able to steal them more and better supplies (moving faster than cameras can trace, leaving no prints, etc. And takes out anyone who even thinks at looking at Badger or whoever funny.

(Hank, meanwhile, is seeing a pattern of someone setting their bear loose on every one of Salamanca's men. They've got a gang war going on. Fuck.)

Gus is also noticing and keeps Gale well off the street and asks Mike to look into this.

Mike finds himself very confused. These are low level punks, local kids who dropped out of school and destroyed their lives with meth, but they're not gangsters. They clearly have no idea what they're doing and no muscle.

So who keeps killing everybody?

Unfortunately for Walter, the Volturi are also starting to take notice, as this is a lot of people dead in Albuquerque from rogue cocaine bears. Oddly focused on the human drug trade, but the signs are unmistakable. Aro sends Demetri and Felix off to deal with it.

Sure enough, they catch Walter's scent and ah...

The show's suddenly over when two cosplayers take Walter (in his hazmat suit) out in an alley.

[smokescreenstuff]

Sharing this because I got the urge to write. It's not really an AU, but I guess I could make it one it you guys wanted.

Smokescreen woke up with a pain in his chest which quickly faded. Pushing himself off the ground he looked around. A pyramid, more accurately, the inside of one. He had been hit by Megatron's new weapon, the Dark Saber.

He looks down at himself, the Phase Shifter on his wrist, that must have been how he survived. Dirt and grime all over him, he'll have to wash up later. A big slash mark across his chest and shoulders, tinted slightly purple. He didn't know why, but he felt like he needed to hide it.

Smokescreen picks up dirt from the ground and smears it on the wound, wincing in pain. Maybe that wasn't the best idea.

He slips out of the pyramid and sees Optimus fighting Megatron.

…

Smokescreen walks into base, surprising everyone that he was still alive. Even Arcee seemed somewhat glad that he hadn't been reduced to dust. Bulkhead attempts to strike up a conversation but he's interrupted when Arcee asks a question.

“How did you survive?”

Smokescreen chuckles, “I may have borrowed the Phase Shifter…”

Smokescreen knew he was going to be scolded for taking it, but he didn't care. It kept him alive. Ratchet opens his mouth to scold Smokescreen, but the look on his face makes Ratchet stop.

“Smokescreen, I'd like to give you a checkup,” Ratchet states as he starts walking to the med-bay.

Smokescreen follows close behind.

…

Once in the med-bay he sits down on a medical bed. Before Ratchet can tell him to do anything he takes a nearby rag and cleans up the dirt he rubbed on his wound.

Ratchet immediately moves closer to inspect it, growing worried as he notices the purple tint. He takes a sample and puts it under a microscope. After a while he starts trying to mix up some kind of concoction.

“Uhh… Ratchet, what are you doing?” Smokescreen is very confused.

“I'm making a medication to help fight the dark energon,” Ratchet doesn't look up from what he's doing.

Smokescreen looks down at his wound. He knew deep down why Ratchet was doing that. The wound was created by a weapon of dark energon, an infection of some kind would be expected, but that didn't stop Smokescreen from freaking out internally.

…

Ratchet handed Smokescreen a cup a few hours later. He takes a drink and starts coughing, it tastes horrible.

“It's bad,” Smokescreen groans.

“It's medicine, it's not supposed to taste good,” Ratchet sighs, “Just tell me if you start feeling weird or something. I made extra in case you need it.”

Ratchet starts welding up Smokescreen's wounds.

…

Smokescreen wakes up in the middle of the night, a strange voice in his head. It's too quiet to make anything out, small whispers of chaos. He practically slides out of bed, forcing himself to get up. One look in the mirror sets him into panic mode, he needed to get Ratchet, now.

He runs through the halls and bursts into Ratchet's berthroom, “Ratchet!”

Ratchet barely wakes up, just enough to see what had Smokescreen all worked up. He quickly gets out of bed and drags Smokescreen into the med-bay. He forces more medicine down Smokescreen's intake, clearing up what had them both worked up. Purple optics, finally returning to a sky blue.

Ratchet spends the rest of the night making more of the medicine. They both knew fully well that the medicine only worked for a few hours at most, but they both prayed that was enough. Enough to keep the dark energon at bay… enough to keep Unicron at bay…

[naerwenia]

Nemesis, The Ultimate Weapon - Nemesis x reader, part 3

I just wanted to write Nemesis smut, but man, here we are, crawling towards the day I understand that I have to start with the smut if I ever want to get there.

Resident Evil Nemesis x female reader

Wordcount ~1100 words

I've been overthinking this so much, so this chapter is more of a "let me write few nice scenes".

Part 1 & Part 2

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

Nemesis became more angry and erratic during the weeks after he was brought back after the first full mission, not only for the weird limbo he was put in, not quite stored away like a weapon, yet not a soldier living in a barrack with other soldiers. After healing from his wounds, Nemesis was intermittently kept between stasis and research, which included training. As a success, he was put under a microscope with a group of scientists trying to see if it was better to keep him in stasis between use, or was it better to try and keep him conscious, training and ready. 

Yet, while his biological functions and muscle mass were healthy and even improving, his behaviour was mercurial. There were times the tyrant behaved like a machine, perfectly executing every order given to it by marked superiors, only following the instructions given that day and stopping when ordered to, yet he was still flawed. The files kept piling on the rage the T-Type showed and how doctors failed to stop it or even temper the effects the rage inflicted on the tyrant. Every step out of line was followed by the facility putting Nemesis T-type in stasis for an analysis on the error, but there were no patterns to be found on the reports or biological graphs measuring vitals, muscle growth, the infection from the parasite, and brain activity. 

While in stasis, Nemesis’ mind wandered. It played over memories, heard roses’ smell, felt sounds of laughter, tasted the touch of another, and dreamed of something unexplainable. A sound that almost reached him, a warmth that was separated by a thin glass, but Nemesis felt like there were miles between him and the sound. The warmth was different from what he had felt before. Flames had seared him, burnt the restricting cloth to his skin. It didn’t hurt per se, but compared to the voice, flames felt like thousand spears impaling him, tasted like rubber and rotten onions. Still, he would step through those flames to feel the distant voice touch his face again. He tried reaching out, trying to lift his hand to reach out, tried moving to reach the voice, but could not. So he let the dream come to him, a warm voice sang to him, his skin heating up as a brush of soft touch caressed his scars, both old and new, and the song wrapped him, covering the hurt, healing him. For once, Nemesis felt he could relax his muscles, suddenly noticing how light his arms could be. A deep breath squeezed past his teeth, a flash of peace filled his mind, and as soon as the breath left his mouth, the crushing weight of reality pushed him back to his body and made him aware it was nothing but a hallucination, unreal, fabricated moment. It just got worse when his mind replayed the memory of the girl calling his name and how he immediately lost her. She was real, he knew it, and she was taken from him. The moment of respite and peace was taken away from them, replaced by constant pain and anger, feeding his wrath.

A brain scan revealed the dreams to a lab assistant, first fascinated by the intensity of the brain activity, rushing to write down what he saw, only to stop soon, as his mind found a troubling thought in the fact he tried to write about the dreams of a weapon. A dreaming weapon, B.O.W with vivid dreams no one knew of, and no one could ask as Nemesis’ facial structure prevented complex speech. The experiment had higher thought, he was able to solve problems and adapt to situations when on a mission, but Nemesis was still just an experiment, subject of the nemesis alpha parasite and intricate gene manipulation, yet the scene in front of him reminded him more of a cuttlefish dreaming. The fMRI changed colours and Nemesis’ skin seemed to slightly pulse, like the tyrant was trying to move in its sleep. The assistant had to remind himself the BOW was self-aware, that was part of the design, but having it clearly dreaming made it difficult for him to write a report as clinically as was expected, stopping every few sentences to choose his words deliberately. There was a part of him wondering if the tyrant was dreaming of the girl, you. 

Your presence at the facility was a sort of open secret and while no one admitted to spreading rumours, your every step was followed by a question and every breath with a wild assumption. Not a test subject, not at least yet, not a prisoner (this was not a jail but you could not leave), and not an employee. You were cared for, all your needs met both physically and mentally; food, warmth, showers and clean clothes, even people to talk to and a television to spend time with, but it was clear you were just a valuable nuisance. There was no way you could ever leave as you had seen too much, and even if you agreed to keep your mouth shut under the threat of immediate disposal if you ever uttered a word, your capability of speaking to Nemmy was valuable enough to keep you locked in your box for safekeeping and potential study when they had enough data to formulate a method for the study, when they could decide what it was that interested the men in suits.

Restless in your bed, you turned over to your other side, trying to sleep, but the fluorescent lights outside your door kept flickering, interrupting the constant hum they emitted. For no particular reason, you decided to hum to yourself, finding a tune from your youth you had almost forgotten. The tune comforted you, wrapped you in a warm embrace while hoping Nemmie would hear the song too, feel the song like you felt.

There was a certain charm to being the princess locked away in a tower, but there was no way you would stay here any longer than the day your voice could reach your prince. Your submission was to be earned, and you had played your part long enough to know agreeing to everything was not going to earn you an escape or even a life inside that was good enough to find interesting or fulfilling in any way. The thought of death from a gunshot was always on your mind, every corner here was guarded by trained military, but it would be preferable to existing as a decorative sword stored away in a locker. There was a way out, and you could see it; it just needed a call.

And as you closed your eyes, Nemesis opened his.

[batw1nggg]

objectively hinanami does make more sense then komahina other then the fact that like chiaki is fucking dead and i could give you my genuine and serious opinion on this matter (which is just that they are both canon. it is possible to fall in love with two people.) but i could also just explain to you that hinanami is simply too boring for my tastes. i want to see those bitches ARGUEEE i want COMPLEXITY AND NUANCE i wanna STUDY THEM UNDER A MICROSCOPE and TAKE THEM APART ORGAN BY ORGAN and PUT THEM BACK TOGETHER i want a love that is SICK and DESPERATE and PASSIONATE i want to watch them CRASH AND BURN and then make something beautiful out of the ashes. ‘hinanami works better’ YES. and thats EXACTLY why it’s not for me personally

[shaydh]

Honest opinion:

i think you're awesome, talented, and have a fantastically bizarre sense of humor.

I worry sometimes that you're too critical of yourself, but I'm worried i don't know you well enough to chide you for it. I want you to feel good about yourself both personally and artistically.

I want to be friends

I want to study you under a microscope.

I trust your taste in media almost implicitly which has gotten me into some cool new fan spaces.

Generally I think you're pretty cool!

This is very kind, thank you! (I probably do get too critical of myself so it’s definitely something to keep in mind. I always feel like I could put in more effort but I don’t want to burn out either, I never know what a good balance is 🥲 )

Thank you for the message, i am flattered to be studied under a microscope 🥰

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Uh, merry slightly-late crisler (idk if you’ll get that reference). I’m still not at all good at getting my thoughts down onto paper (electronics?), so in short, I ditto what the ribbon anon said. I really hope this doesn’t come across as me hitching a ride on what they said, I have it in my own words, just that my own words are raw brain vomit and probably not the most tasteful consumed unprocessed (and also agonizing over the wording… a lot) but here goes (I really hope I don’t come off as strange or too strong, can’t do much about it or ill psych myself out and overthink it. Also hope that’s not oversharing. Yay social anxiety :,D):

Like, from what I can tell from the online you, you’re a great, very kind person who is very passionate about what they do. I don’t know if that’s cringe but I think that it’s amazing what you do, being able to translate whatever worlds/ideas you have into coherent stories. Those stories live rent free in my head. And the worldbuilding? Bro, I cannot emphasize enough how much I want to study that world (Falkradia. I think that’s how you spell it) under a microscope and absorb all of the most minute details.

Not sure if this is strange, but you could yap about how there are different types of grass in each region and I’d be damn enamored. And the characters? From all your stories big and small? Also under the microscope, in little slides, i want to learn their stories and backgrounds and damn everything (I have a collection of questions built up in my mind I’d love to ask about the Falkry one but don’t want to be a bother. My brain reset with social interaction for some reason and it’s back to questioning everything. And I say that as self deprecation to clarify. God I hope I’m not being annoying or somehow making this about myself I swear IM NOT-)

I also don’t think you’re weird. If anything (and I REALLY hope this doesn’t come off the wrong way), “weird” people are what makes the world interesting.

God I have so much more to say but I can’t be coherent (is the term “normal” the one? Like the whole “I’m so normal about this”? I’m not good with internet slang) about it but, in short, you’re a really cool (vocab is not on my side) person and I am so damn glad to have discovered this little nook on tumblr whenever I did. You seem like you’d be a really cool friend irl (like ribbon anon said. I very much agree.) and god I don’t think I can do my brain words justice.

I’d love to interact more but I don’t want to be a bother and again, general social anxiety and severe overthinking do a number on someone when trying to interact online (that’s self deprecation to clarify, no harm towards you. I do not have confidence in my word conveying, if the amount of apologies is anything to go by lol). I really hope this isn’t oversharing, but you’re one of the tumblr people blog things I feel more comfortable with interacting with, I’m not sure how else to really express it; you just have a chill vibe (is that the right word I’m looking for? Also really hope that doesn’t somehow put pressure on you, just saying you’re easy to talk to?). I’d love to share random things or talk about worldbuilding and the like, again, sorry if I’m repeating myself, it’s just so damn interesting (if you’re alright with it. I understand if not)

I hope you continue to do what you do (again? It’s hecking amazing) what you do, that you take care of yourself and that you have a great rest of your belated somewhat Christmas idk what to call it :D

-idk

(God I really do apologize if this comes off the wrong way, seriously, I mean all of it in a positive way. I had to gather my brain thoughts and then psyched myself out and then my brain decided to say “let’s screw it” and do it and I’m both glad and terrified of somehow coming off as rude or insensitive or weird or too much or anything else and god I’m oversharing shUT UP-)

I can and probably will over explain myself in the comment section lol sorry (seriously though, sorry for the incoherentness and unhinged mess)

I don't think anything you said here is cringey in the least, and honestly, I really appreciate it. I found this message very deep, insightful, and kind. And you can ask all the questions you want about literally anything, I absolutely cherish and adore getting messages in my inbox and it's a actually a lot of fun to answer them -- so don't worry, it's never a bother to me or annoying in the least (but of course social anxiety will probably make us worry anyway Lol)

I really like your perspective on "weird people" actually being what makes the world interesting -- that's a nice way to think of it, and helps me feel better about it. And it's 100% true! Without weirdos like me, the world would be pretty bland and boring (personal opinion at least).

That means a lot to me that you think I'm cool and would want to be my friend if we ever met irl, especially since I have serious confidence issues and aren't used to being considered "cool" or "fun to be around/talk to".

I'd love to interact more too, if you're ever up to it (we can be socially crazy overthinkers together haha) I find so much of what you say to be so darn relatable, and it's kind of nice to know that I'm not the only one constantly overthinking anything (my brain is always on panic mode it's like brain why must you do this to me argh)

As someone who also has severe social anxiety (a fellow overthinker, in other words, as you probably already know so I don't know why I'm repeating it again Lol -- overthinking strikes again), I know firsthand how much it means when someone says "I'm comfortable talking to you", and I'm honored to be one of those people who is overall chill and approachable. It's hard to find those kind of people in the world, and I'm glad I can be one of them. I am perhaps the least judgmental person anyone will ever meet, so I try to create a safe space where people can ask me anything because I know what it's like to be pressured to be "socially correct" or "act normal".

After all, if we think about it, everyone is a bunch of crazy hyperactive squirrels on caffeine in their own unique ways. Long live the weirdos!

#socially awkward awesomeness

[steelycunt]

do you have already some ideas for pride au s? i need to know what is going on in that blender that ur brain is. do u see him with high waisted levi’s and crop tops??? is he a total doormat for smiths enjoyer r??? i need to know more

hi omg yes! yes i do! s' deal is slightly different to r's, in that r has no parallel/does not correspond to any character in the original film, so i'm basically inserting him as a figure into the narrative (although as irrelevant as this is, to me he is. closest to bill nighy's cliff if cliff was a young man in the eighties xx), whereas s more or less fills the position that mark fills in the film. but other than that he is completely free 4 me to characterise and i think he will be so fun honestly! from the thoughts ive had so far hes sort of a mess of a guy at least to begin with. he is kind of moving at a hundred miles and hour + throwing himself into organizing this thing but if you were to slow him down and put him under a microscope hes uhhh. quite lost + lonely in a way. i expect it will not take him very long to become quite embarrassingly gone for r i think he will consider him the best thing since. sliced bread within hours of meeting him he is imagining them both as the two maidens of pompeii its. a really poor performance from him. he thinks r’s accent is sooo sexy every time he talks s is twirling his hair like omggggg. say that again or please elaborate please tell me more…please…..

also i am looking forward to dressing him up in fun outfits again because he is first and foremost my barbie i am just not sure what yet! i am not as familiar with the eighties as i am with the seventies in a lot of ways so. the setting and everything that comes with that will be really fun to research xx although i am struggling to decide on s' music taste!! r lends himself very well to eighties music i think i could build him a record collection easily (including the smiths sad but true) whereas. s seemed to fit better in the seventies :-/ i am not sure what hes listening to in the eighties apart from seventies records he hasnt let go of yet!! and despite the much more glaring aspects of this fic i have yet to turn my attention to frankly. deciding what silly little songs s wants to listen to is currently one of my main priorities xx

[krakenshaped]

For the character ask game, what about the man, the myth, The Chazz?

MY BOY THE CHAZZ!!!

Dude when I say I fucking love this guy I fucking LOVE this guy he makes me so happy on every level

First Impression: Initially I enjoyed making fun of Chazz like. A lot LOL I pretty much bullied for his first couple of appearances. His English voice actor (the original one/S1) PERFECTED his voice. PERFECTED! From the start Manjoume was such a snotty little loser and hos voice in en and jp perfectly encapsulates how snotty he is and I think it's so funny that his brothers sound exactly like him but older. I thought he was so funny. But he just kept getting funnier. He just kept getting more unhinged. I think he really took a shine to me during his North Academy arc. I related a lot to his struggle with expectations

Impression now: THE CHAAAZZZZ!!! MANJOUME THUNDER!!! MY GOOBY WOOBY! MY BIMBLO BLORBO!!! MY FUCKING GUUUUYYYY!!!! I love Judai but like. Manjoume is my favourite GX character to be honest. I still think he's so fucking funny and I love how funny and pathetic he is and I think he is perfect shitty teenager rep. He is arrogant. He is goofy. He's having a bisexual crisis. He thinks he's the most romantic feminist in the world. He probably listens to emo music. He wears black because he's a non-conformist™️ and he's Not Like The Other Slifers In This Shitty Dorm. He smells bad. He is me at 15. I want to wrap him in tin foil and put him in the microwave. I wanna study him under a microscope. He is my son!!!

Favourite moment: Every Chazz moment is a fun moment

But also

The Duel against his brother, fuck yeah Manjoume, get their asses!!!!

Idea for a story: Honestly I've wanted to write about Manjoume grappling with a post-grad crisis for a hot minute because I find it difficult to believe that after everything that happens in DA he just hits the pro league like nothing happened. I wanna see him go to therapy and process everything that's happened in his life, especially the guilt he probably feels over both awakening the sacred beasts and his role in the society of light.

Unpopular opinion: I don't really mind Manjoume's weird character progression, because watching him be a little silly even though he's the main rival is fun. I think people expected something akin to Kaiba and Yugi's rivalry but Manjoume isn't Kaiba and his rivalry and friendship with Judai is really different. Plus his silly moments make him fun and relatable (don't know if that's unpopular but voila)

Favourite relationship: Gx Rivalshipping. Hands down. I'm a sucker for Chazz/Jaden and I am a chronic multishipper LOL

Favourite headcanon: Transmasc baby!! Jesse and Chazz are trans guys on opposite sides of the spectrum!! And by that I mean Manjoume is Jesse Pinkman trans LMAOOO

Other than that I refuse to believe his hair is naturally like that. I think he gels it to keep it in that style. It's all apart of His Aesthetic™️, It's not a PHASE you just don't understand his SUPERIOR FASHION TASTE

Also hc he plays wow

[amatres]

Okay, the first few collections of ascended astarion documentation while i observe the two under a microscope.

first, the day after turning

Astarion: You are so beautiful… And you will be beautiful forever. Thank you for trusting me. Balaerra: What exactly happened? Astarion: You were drained dry, and at the height of your delirium, I granted you one drop of my own blood. Things will be a touch different for you than they were for me when I was a spawn. I'm imbibed with unfathomable new talents. I am fairly certain I can extend Mephistopheles' blessings unto you. Balaerra: Does that mean I need not fear the sun? Astarion: You need not fear anything. You will be stronger, swifter, sharper, but you won't be different. You were already perfect before. It's hard to improve. Astarion: For me, well… You probably expect me to turn into a sea of mist, run wrongside-up on roofs, and to call on legions of wolves in battle. That will all happen in due time. But for now, patience is required. I hear the whispers of the night, but I can't yet speak it's language. It's going to take a while to become acquainted with my new self Balaerra: Are you bound to Mephistopheles? Astarion: Mephistopheles has made a new monster, not bound a creature to his will. The Rite was honoured, the sacrifice is over. Everything lies ahead. I can see my path to a waking dream. From the crimson palace, I will govern day and night. Create a city of spawn who bow before me, cast a fog over the world for me children. Astarion: I wish we could retreat into our palace already, and spend a decade in each other's arms. But first we must manage the trifling manner of the brain. Perhaps it will listen to us. Perhaps it, too, will serve. Balaerra: We can't trust the brain. Astarion: We shall see. Baldur's Gate is a city of opportunity like no other, and I don't intend to let one like this pass us by.

and the 'can we talk about us answers. I actually got two answers when I asked 'what are we, so I'll put them both here. I asked twice because the conversation ends so abruptly after he gives his answer I got confused lmao.

Don't mind him being so bloody, i only ever long rest after we get our asses beat

Astarion: Seven thousand souls have given me the power to carve out my own future, and I want you to be part of it .... Astarion: Little love, whatever could be the matter? Balaerra: Can we talk about the two of us? Astarion: Go on, then. I'll allow it. Balaerra: What are we, to you? Astarion: Aeterna amantes. Lovers forever, until the world falls down.

Afterwards, his response to 'can we talk about us' changes. I don't know if this is because I triggered it to change, or the response is random and I just got it twice, but interesting to note if it was intentional.

The game doesn't keep track of some things you've asked, or have or have no done, so I got to ask again about walking in the sun to see what he says. This is where the 'don't stray too far from me' line comes from, I'm surprised! For some reason I thought that would be from kicking him out of the party.

Another thing to note is Balaerra hadn't let him drink her blood since the initial reveal scene until he turned her, so I was surprised I also got that option here! Added her reaction to it in the screenshots bc it's funny to me.

As a final note for this convo, his 'sequester you in my palace' line when read sounded? like he was joking about it. Or at least being sarcastic, but you never know, he does get pretty possessive on this path.

Astarion: My consort, we are so close to our triumph, I can almost taste it. Balaerra: Can we talk about the two of us? Astarion: You want to talk? Oh, that's very cute. Balaerra: You made me your spawn… What is going to happen to me? Astarion: 'Spawn' is an ugly word. I really do prefer 'consort'. Balaerra: What do you mean to do with me, as your consort? Astarion: As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself, there's much to be done. First we'll take Baldur's Gate. Then we'll take over the world. We'll dominate it until the sun itself melts, and then we'll give ourselves to the night. Balaerra: Cazador could compel you - can you compel me? Astarion: Why would I need to? You're going to be wonderfully obedient. Balaerra: Does this mean I won't be able to walk in the sun if my tadpole is removed? Astarion: Don't you worry. You have supped of my blood. It will be no trouble to extend a fragment of my protection to you. Just don't stray too far. But you'd never dream of doing that, would you? Balaerra: Will you still drink my blood? Astarion: Of course I will, and you will drink mine. I can't wait to taste your lips after you've tasted me.

And then just the asking to kiss. Not really that important, though I will say the audio bugged and I got what, I think, is his pre quest line where he says, paraphrasing 'you are better every time' or smthing like that. probably glitched bc i never chose the option before bc pda flusters me lol

Astarion: Little love, whatever could be the matter? Balaerra: Can we talk about the two of us? Astarion: You want to talk? Oh, that's very cute. Balaerra: Could I kiss you? Astarion: Can't get enough? I'm not surprised. Astarion: Delicious…

[lesbovalentine]

considering their backstory i think it might be in poor taste to say i want to put knives and vash under a microscope huh. rotating them in my mind instead

i enjoyed the spider and butterfly thing in the anime where knives kills the spider to save the butterfly and vash protests he wanted to save both and knives tells him thats not how it works. and that clearly representing their ideology at large re: knives wants to get rid of people to save himself and his brother and other plants and vash doesnt want anyone to hurt even terrible people. however the manga version where they DIDNT always just has personalities and philosophies that match up with how they act now, instead vash used to be the more cynical one while nai was more hopeful of human acceptance… also so good

[crime-bot]

goro having to be hospitalized because he's still coughing up black goop in maruki's reality. when they find him out of maruki's reality and he's in a coma the doctors have a bag next to his bed so they can wipe the goop up off of him. i dont think ppl think about it but i think having a partial mental shutdown and removal of ur most powerful persona can really fuck you up (why are there no fics about what could've been done to akira when arsene was forcibly taken) and when normal mental shutdowns are done goro usually makes the person paranoid throughout the palace. but when ur a persona user and ur already paranoid it has to be 10/10 worse i fear. goro sleeping at leblanc on fluids while the rest of the team has a meeting and secretly makes plans to help him get better. ryuji and sumi and haru all get him a cane and the like because theyve all noticed his issues with his hips and his not-properly-healed-broken-bones, makoto and futaba and ann talking to ppl who care abt him (sae, naoto, ken), akira & morgana & yusuke all handmake/cook gifts and take care of him when he cant take care of himself

unrelatedly. I think it would be cool as fuck if we put that goop under a microscope

Yeah it's weird there's not a lot of fics out there focusing on the aftermath of surviving a partial mental shutdown, Or losing your strongest persona (man I love the implication of a strongest persona here, too -- an aspect of yourself that you put so much time and resources into growing, consciously or otherwise. What prices are paid? What is sewn to be reaped?)

Oh for sure I can imagine Goro being Paranoid out of the max, but like... everything's also catching up to him, physically, mentally, and emotionally. There is So much brewing for him!

Holy shit a cane!!! They may try to find a cane that both works well of course, but Also has a design they think Goro would like. Haru may be the most accurate out of the three for thinking of what his taste in a cane's design could be

Man it'd be interesting seeing those three try to get into contact with the ones that care about Goro, especially Ken.

HELL YEAH! Give that boy what he's been missing his whole life! I feel like with Yusuke the gifts are either comically not in Goro's taste or 100% on the mark, no in-between.

[seiwas]

i love this ari!! 🥺

characterisation is always something i look forward to when reading your works ari 🥺 i feel like you get it every time!!! i love little blurb explorations like this bc it feels like putting them under a lil microscope and that you did!!!

i agree that he's a bit detached 🥺 i see him that way too—a bit out of reach, y'know? neither here nor there. and i also agree that there's a softness to him when he's alone 🥺 you also have his mannerisms down to a t!!

and he was insistent, persuasive. awfully whiny. assuring you that he’d be quick, that you wouldn’t miss the next one. <- this is so like him omfg

i so love how you set up their dynamic; reader thinks gojo isn't very fond of them bc he's always a little less than how he normally is but... that's literally it!! it's because he's with reader that he's able to kind of let loose that way 🥺 that being said, i also like how reader isn't necessarily close to gojo but wants to be (i don't read a lot of works with this dynamic!!)—it's refreshing to me!!

deep within your chest, like a stunted seaweed, sprouts a tiny pang of disappointment. <- i love that you continued the theme of the sea!!! UGH so satisfying!!

”you’ll warm me up, no?” the words fall from your lips before you can think to reel them in... but instead come out sounding a little too much like an honest request. <- i screAMED at that you'll warm me line sdbj but also at the bit of reeling in words (bc again, it's so thematic!! so satifsying!!) and then there's the fact that it slips past reader's lips honestly instead of jokingly 😭😭

and it’s back. that grin. toothy, boyish. his cheeks are rosy, from the chill of the air, or so you assume. then he’s taking a couple strides forward, broaching the distance between you. <- rosy cheeks from the air or so you assume!!! (ofc u assume!! bc it isnt from the air!! no it's from you!!) UGHHHH i love this ari... and the bits describing how he's warm and cozy too 🥺 i always hc that gojo runs a bit cold, lanky and lean and everything but i still adore the idea that he is everything we don't expect him to be 🥺

(gojo glances at your lips. he wonders if they’d taste as salty as the air.) <- the repetition!! the callback!! i love that so much!! and to end it like this too 🥺 with the hope that they're both thinking abt each other the same way 🥺 ugh mY HEART!!!

their dialogue is so cute!! and there's also so much in the unspoken and you know how much i love that 🥺 and how reader views gojo is sos o so precious my heart is crying sdbgas:

gojo honest to god giggles, at that, and you fear your knees might give out beneath your weight. fuck, has he always had dimples? why are you only noticing them now? <- this line HAD me lMAO it's soOOO vulnerable and raw and real. crying just thinking abt how cute he is rn

gojo’s eyes widen. ever so slightly, barely enough to even notice, until they bloom — with a kind of bubbly excitement. unconcealed giddiness. there’s something awfully precious about it, like a child buying cotton candy at their first fair. it makes you want to tuck him into your pocket. keep him safe. <- i feel so much of your affection for him here and 🥺 aaaah this makes me so emotional ari udek 🥺 just want him to stay like this forever!!

as always, your descriptions are always so vivid in your writing!! you have such beautiful prose 🥺 i have so many favourite parts!!!

satoru gojo is an anomaly, a blurry cluster of stars. or maybe more like a planet, big and blue, spinning around its own orbit, out of reach for every single star in the sky. <- i am such a sucker for space related descriptions too 😭

something that almost seems fragile, under the light of the moon, when the dark sky casts a shadow to obscure the contours of his face and no one’s around to notice if his smile isn't as big as it should be. <- idk if u intended it for this, but the visual this gave me was kind of like the waning (or waxing? i always mix the two) of the moon!!! how the shadows move around his face that way 🥺

summer’s ending, burning into little cinders, sputtering out before your very eyes + the rusting of leaves, contaminated by a muddy hue, turned orange and brown and red beneath your heavy feet; littering the murky, empty streets of the rainy towns you cross. <- your descriptions for the seasons were so vivid!!!! i love that so much!!

everything smells of saltwater. a little like rotten fish. every breath you exhale turns into a flurry of vapour, mingling with the breezy seasalt of the open air; scattering away into the thin layer of mist all around you, until you can’t tell which is which. <- i also adore this so much. i feel like i haven't really read a lot of sea/beach descriptions that are like this, and i love it bc it's so real 😭 this rlly is what the sea smells like, and it isn't all that pleasant 😭

 in tandem, the two of you, stuck within that shade of blue.  <- such a pretty line!! but i also love it because, despite all he is, he still has it in him to be amazed, y'know? a little mesmerised at the sea 🥺

then the end bit:

you like him, unfortunately. inevitably. you think you may even like him a lot, a little more than you should. a little more than he could reciprocate. <- this line hurts as much as it heals, because, 'a little more than he could reciprocate' & it all ties back in to the first point, that he's a bit detached, out of reach—unavailable really. and it's sweet that reader likes him, but it's also so so sad that that there's a limit to it, like an upper ceiling that matches the capacity gojo can handle.

this was such a lovely read ari 🥺 so refreshing and of course, so well-written!! i am going through your works little by little and enjoying every bit of it 🥺

gojo always seems to be off in a world of his own.

a little detached, you think. awkwardly long limbs constantly on the move, eyes stuck in a direction no one else can follow, a trajectory you don’t think even he knows. one blink and he's gone, just like that. too far ahead, too far above, even on the occasions he slows down and lets you catch up.

flimsy, maybe. like he’ll get carried away by the breeze when spring rolls around. like he’d turn into seafoam if you reached out and touched him.

satoru gojo is an anomaly, a blurry cluster of stars. or maybe more like a planet, big and blue, spinning around its own orbit, out of reach for every single star in the sky. 

high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. but there's a softness to him when he's alone, you’ve come to learn. something that almost seems fragile, under the light of the moon, when the dark sky casts a shadow to obscure the contours of his face, and no one’s around to notice if his smile isn't as big as it should be.

no one except for you, anyhow.

(you wonder if your presence is really that inconsequential to him.)

the beach is entirely empty, save for you and gojo. and summer’s ending, before your very eyes, sputtering out. burning into little cinders.

tokyo is just beginning to dip its toes into autumn, the frost and chill, the hiss of the biting wind. the rusting of the leaves, contaminated by a muddy hue, turned orange and brown and red beneath your heavy feet; littering the murky, empty streets of the rainy towns you cross. smelling of rotten apples and cinnamon, old books and burning wood.

it’s dark out. painted a thick gray, the sky is blanketed by heavy clouds, the entire world hidden behind that coating of wool. not a single sliver of starlight slips through, but there's a comfort to it, that feeling of being cocooned — safe and warm. a feeling cruelly stripped away by the nipping of the wind at your bare skin, but you digress.

everything smells of saltwater. a little like rotten fish. every breath you exhale turns into a flurry of vapour, mingling with the breezy seasalt of the open air. scattering away into the thin layer of mist all around you, until you can’t tell which is which. 

a sense of foreboding sinks into your veins.

(you look out at the jagged rocks piercing the surface of the sea, and dully wonder how they’d feel piercing your skin.)

something shivers, to your right. a flicker of movement, a barely audible chatter of teeth. and then, a white puff of vapour.

”man, it’s cold.”

gojo looks displeased. 

only vaguely, a little crease between his eyebrows as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his puffy baseball jacket. moving his feet a little, to warm up, snowy tufts of white hair tousled by the ocean breeze. his shoes are muddied by the wet sand, but he doesn't seem to mind.  

a soft scoff leaves your lips, mostly harmless. maybe just a little smug. ”told you,” you click your tongue. 

gojo whines. his sunglasses are starting to fog up, you notice. ”it’s still summer!” he pouts. ”i thought the sea would be nice and breezy!”

an unimpressed look smooths over your face. gracing him with a raise of your brow, you don’t fully manage to bite back the soft smile that follows. don’t even really attempt to.

it’s been a long day. evidently not long enough for gojo, seeing as he dragged you down here — even though he knew it meant missing the train you were supposed to board after successfully finishing your mission. he just had to get a closer look at the sea. just for a moment or two. 

and he was insistent, persuasive. awfully whiny. assuring you that he’d be quick, that you wouldn’t miss the next one. 

(what made you agree was simply the thought of spending some more time with him. not like you could ever tell him that, though.)

so there you stand. two juveniles, shivering and shifting from foot to foot, on the brink of nightfall, the edge of summertime. watching the sea stretch out into infinity, across the gap between this world and the next. a murky blue. easy on the eyes.

the noise of the sea fills your ears; waves crashing into the sand, the whistling of the wind, seagulls crying out in the distance. and faraway, the chatter of a rattling train. a cacophony of sounds, buzzing and crackling, melting together. 

scattered across the beach are countless tiny white seashells, and the occasional green glimmer of a glass shard. mermaids’ tears, shed for lost sailors — or so you’ve heard. you wonder if the mermaids ever shed tears for lost sorcerers. probably not.

a shiver runs through your body, down to your cold hands, the tips of your fingers. reddish and itching for warmth. you tuck them into your pockets with a breathless exhale, still shaking a little. 

you and gojo aren’t very close. you’d like to call him a friend, but it's hard — when he's so enamored with suguru, so animated around shoko. with you, he always seems kind of —

stiff? 

or maybe more like bored.

he doesn't laugh as loudly, doesn’t act as cocky. doesn't flaunt his knowledge on sorcery, and isn't as clingy as he is with the other two.

(you've never liked people touching you. it's not hard for other people to discern, with how you flinch away when they get close.

still, you can't help but feel a little jealous when you see him tugging suguru and shoko around.)

sprouting deep within your chest, a tiny pang of disappointment. it’d be nice if you could grow closer, you think. just a little would be fine. 

”i like the sea.”

you turn your head.

gojo looks a little lost in thought. gaze trained on that expanding ocean before you, those splotches of blue and gray, the waves that bruise the edge of the sand. forlorn, maybe.

a hum buzzes in your dry throat. ”do you?”

”mm.” little white breaths slip from his lips. you wonder if they’d taste as salty as the air. ”’ts nice.”

a silence stretches out before you. delicate, like a sheet of glass. gojo picks at a piece of lint on his sleeve, and you shift from foot to foot. then he closes his eyes — a flutter of his dewy eyelashes.

”kinda makes you feel like everything’s about to end, huh?”

you look at him, but don’t see anything. a single glimpse of his closed eyes is all you gain from the glance you send his way, but it’s not enough. not enough blue to fall into, no expression to savour. he looks the same as always.

but you’ve never heard his voice sound like this before.

”… end?”

and with that, they flicker open. there it is, you think. that vibrant blue. only to be obscured once more, when he turns to you fully, a smile playing at his glossy lips. ”don’t think so?”

a second passes. you look forward.

what you see is as follows: waves upon waves upon waves. the same blue and gray, as far as the eye can see. a sea big enough to drown each and every one of your worries. 

something comes over you. a sensation of loneliness, something close to longing. a feeling of being rather lost. searching for something. your eyes trail over those jagged rocks, again. the mermaids’ tears, that all-consuming sea. right in front of you.

you think of the lost sailors.

(one jump and it’s all over.)

”… i guess i get it,” you breathe. salty on your tongue. a soft murmur, mingling with the mist. 

silence.

out of the corner of your eye, you see gojo shift. one moment he’s looking at you, the next he’s staring at the sea. in tandem, the two of you, stuck within that shade of blue. and you think he looks a little mesmerized, like he’s seeing something not even he can fully comprehend.

(maybe he just hasn’t had many chances to go to the beach before. something to do with being a clan kid, maybe?)

but then he clears his throat, hands moving to brush some sand off his puffy jacket and jeans. turning on his heel, hair ruffled by the breeze. he tries to sound chipper, but there’s something else there. you don’t know what it is, but…

”anyway,” he chirps. ”let’s go. we can still make it to the next train if we hurry.”

you look at him. his retreating figure, a head of white hair, surrounded by mist. a little like an apparition. then you turn towards the sea.

”… nah, that’s fine.”

a pause.

gojo stills, just about to take the first step forward. but you stay rooted in place; unmoving, staring at the blue before you, a deep longing reflected in your eyes. 

”let’s stay a little longer,” you hum, unsure of where the words came from. but you know you aren’t ready for the moment to end, just yet. that you aren’t quite ready for summer to pass.

…

all he does is stare, for a second or two. attempting to find some humour in your voice, you assume, any signs that you might just be joking. but he doesn’t find it. uncharacterstically silent, gojo stays frozen in place. 

then he puffs out a breath — amused. 

”you wanna freeze to death?” he grins, and you can hear it in his voice. you turn to face him, almost smiling. a little cheeky.

”you’ll warm me up, no?”

the words fall from your lips before you can think to reel them in. meant to sound a little snarky, you think, something akin to a chuckle — but instead come out sounding a little too much like an honest request. 

the tips of your ears feel a little warm, suddenly.

a sense of surprise smooths over the contours of gojo’s face, and his grin falters. you can’t see his eyes, can’t tell if they widen or not, but his lips part, and you note that they look soft. 

and it’s back. that grin. toothy, boyish. his cheeks are rosy from the chill of the air, or so you assume. then he’s taking a couple strides forward, broaching the distance between you.

he throws an arm over your shoulder. a heavy weight against you, grounding, causing you to stumble. friendly, tugging you close. into his orbit.

(no infinity, you note. you can feel his body heat seeping through the fabric.)

it's nice. he's tall, and he's warm. cozy, protecting you from the bitter cold, like your own personal furnace. no wonder suguru never catches any colds, with someone like this draped over him all the time.

gojo speaks. there’s a sweetness to his voice, a mellow kind of contentment; bubbling up like seafoam, spilling from his glossy lips. you can feel his warm breath on your skin.

”well, duh.”

when your gaze falls on him, he's already looking at you. leaning closer, sunglasses slipping a little further down the bridge of his nose — enough to expose the blue of his eyes, the tiny splotches of white scattered across his aquamarine iris. like a cracked marble. or a summer sea.

he’s speaking again, and you almost don't hear it. distracted by those cracked marbles, the strawberry red of his cheeks, the warmth shared between you. the pitter patter of your heartbeat, like waves crashing against the sand. mesmerized. not daring to look away.

almost like you’d cease to exist, were he to close his eyes. like your existence hinges entirely on the blue of those irises.

(and maybe it does.)

he nods towards the sea, and grins. a mischievous glint in his eyes. ”wanna take a dip?” he asks, and you can’t tell if he’s joking or not. it makes you laugh, either way.

”do you want to freeze to death?” you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. subtly angling your body closer to his, hoping he won’t notice.

gojo honest to god giggles, at that, and you fear your knees might give out beneath your weight. fuck, has he always had dimples? why are you only noticing them now? 

”hehe. i just think it'd be fun!” he chirps, still draped over you like an overgrown cat, and you almost find yourself saying yes. just to keep the summer from ending, keep him from being swept away by the breeze.

but summer is ending. slipping away, second by second, like two juveniles drowned by an ocean wave. never to be found.

and in comes autumn, the smell of rotting apples, the crunch of sand beneath your feet. an arm over your shoulder, an intake of breath; the taste of nice, crispy air on your tongue. 

a chuckle flows from your lips. all you see before you is blue, a murky shade, a vibrant hue. you think you could drown in it. you’re not sure you’d mind.

”maybe next time,” you whisper.

gojo’s eyes widen. ever so slightly, barely enough to even notice. then they bloom, with a kind of bubbly excitement, unconcealed giddiness. there’s something awfully precious about it, like a child buying cotton candy at their first fair. it makes you want to tuck him into your pocket. keep him safe.

you like him, unfortunately. inevitably. you think you may even like him a lot, a little more than you should. a little more than he could reciprocate. 

satoru gojo. high and mighty, cocky and cool. silly and bright. a seaborne boy with his very own orbit, born to carry the weight of the world, spinning so close that you can almost delude yourself into thinking he feels the same. 

almost.

(gojo glances at your lips. he wonders if they’d taste as salty as the air.)