#since as i said i'm lacking the tags to describe... THIS

[mezzmerizd]

truely and utterly losing my care for polishing things up, this is tumblr. all of you are gonna have to sit here and listen to my dumb little ramblings because ALL of my art is inherently just another way to feed into my headcanons,,,

like i'm suffering trying to put a name on them?? to sort them?? because it's not like. "oh i headcanon Tango likes lemon icecream! :D" it's literally the entire way hermitcraft is structured, how Impulse & Tango met, how Zed got mixed up in the schenanigans, how Skizz then aLSO found his way to them- their traumas and dynamics and and and?!?!?

i'm playing puppets and idk how to explain the story i wanna tell :[

they're so dear to my heart, especially because this entire world i structured has been around for years by now, semi-starting during DSMP times and basically exploding with ideas and my love for it when i discovered i could make my Tango a netherborn and no one can stop me.

I want to name it, give it a sense of "personality", give it a title of importance but,,, at the same time i don't want it to lose that deeply personal touch it has. Just slapping my name on there is goddamn stupid though OTL

I used to be able to like,,, explain it to friends by simply calling it my "netherborn headcanons" or ideas, because I've got a deep love for making the nether a more hostile and interesting place, but it's since grown far beyond that :[[

there's a ""need"" for a title, for a tag to give it so i can freely throw ideas out there for others to find and for me to keep track of, but there's nothing that seems "good" enough, or doesn't feel temporary. It's an ongoing thing, a passion project mayhaps, so a title could even make it feel like just some random story.

It's like an AU to someone on the outside looking in, just another take on a story and characters ppl have done stuff tons of times before. but it's so much more to me than just an AU. It's how i see these characters, what i base them off of when I have ideas. There's always stories I keep basically just to myself because they're part of that setting. Most of my fanfic are also more "polished" and made easier to get without all of the previous knowledge. (Minus i think some of my ZIT(S) ones?? Though it's vague in those still.)

Besides that there's also ofc a bit of fear from my side that people misunderstand or just generally are weird about simply ignoring what they don't like, but that's pretty much a given :/

SIGHS man, so many thoughts and feelings and words to say and no idea how to throw it out there in a way that makes sense. And in some way, that shouldn't matter. I can be as cryptic as i want to be, do things just for ME but i know there's still other eyes on here,,, and honestly, it sounds goddamn exciting to get people hooked on a story i wanna tell. to be asked about it, be able to give my thoughts and opinions,,

is it easy enough to tell that i adored those "ask [insert crew of an AU someone made]" when i was younger?? still not in a place where i believe i could make anything similar, but the dream's there i guess

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 10

Authors Note: YALL I'm sorry this took like 3 days longer than promised, life has been so chaotic, a good chaotic nonetheless, but that is why I am so behind. BUT FRET NOT!! I will get to as many requests as possible! All fluff fics will be completed after kinktober is over!

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Masterlist

Chapter Summary : Tension lingers in the air as awkwardness builds between you and Gojo following his recent behavior. As you and the other students prepare for an afternoon training session with Nanami and Gojo, discussions about the threat of Mahito add to the unease. Amid the training, a moment of clumsy distraction leads you to an awkward encounter with Gojo, highlighting the strain between you both...

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: just some light angst, also not edited lol

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; @sdv98o; @theendx888; @dvmb4ssbiatch; @sugxryratz; @kinny-away; @crankyarchives; @enfppuff; If you��d like to be added to the series tag list, leave a comment below:)

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The chill of Gojo’s words had not left you. They lingered, even days later, like a bruise just beneath your skin, tender and deep. Gojo's dismissal still echoed in your mind—a reminder that, no matter how close you thought you were to him, there was a line that you could not cross. 

His casual tone, the way he brushed off the intimacy that you knew the both of you felt, left you feeling exposed, your vulnerability laid bare. 

But something had shifted since that night. 

His presence had become even more constant, his gaze a fixture in every room you walked into, every training session you participated in. It wasn’t just that he was watching you—he was hovering, an unspoken concern woven into every action, every instruction. 

His protectiveness had become palpable, his interventions more frequent and increasingly unnecessary. It wasn’t long before the others started to notice.

The past few days had been... different. That was the only way you could describe it. 

There was a shift in the air around you, a tension that seemed to linger wherever you went, following you like a shadow. 

And no matter how hard you tried to brush it off, you couldn’t ignore the fact that things had become undeniably awkward with Gojo.

It wasn’t just you imagining it, either. You could feel the distance in the way he acted—like a thin, invisible wall had been placed between the two of you. 

He wasn’t outright avoiding you, but he had certainly pulled back. 

Gone were the teasing remarks that often made you roll your eyes, the casual touches on your shoulder or back, the unspoken familiarity that had become so easy. 

Now, his behavior was almost careful, measured, as if he were afraid to let something slip.

Even his jokes, though still light-hearted, felt more guarded, lacking the usual carefree tone.

You didn’t know if it was because of what he’d said that night after your nightmare, or the way he had held you so close when you’d awoken, comforting you in a way that had felt too intimate for even him. 

Whatever it was, there was an awkwardness between you now—an uncertainty that hadn’t been there before.

And it didn’t go unnoticed by the others. Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi had thrown a few questioning glances your way during the past couple of training sessions. 

Even Maki had seemed to pick up on it, shooting you an inquisitive look here and there. But none of them said anything directly. 

If they suspected something was going on, they kept their thoughts to themselves.

Today, however, the uneasiness seemed even more pronounced as the six of you gathered in the courtyard for a late afternoon training session. 

The sky was painted in warm hues of gold and pink, the sun dipping low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the open training field.

Nanami was already there waiting when you arrived, his expression as calm and stoic as ever, while Gojo leaned casually against a nearby tree, his sunglasses glinting in the fading sunlight.

Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Maki, Inumaki, and yourself lined up in front of them, your expressions expectant. Today’s training had a different focus—one that made a knot tighten in your stomach as you thought about it. 

The topic was Mahito, the special-grade cursed spirit who had been a thorn in the side of Jujutsu sorcerers for far too long. 

Both Yuji and Nanami had faced him before, and today they would be sharing their experiences, giving you insight on how to fight a curse as dangerous as Mahito.

“All right,” Nanami began, his voice steady and calm as he looked over the group. 

“I know that most of you haven’t encountered Mahito before before this, and that’s fortunate. But given recent events, it’s crucial that you understand what kind of threat he poses.” He paused, his gaze shifting to Yuji. 

“Itadori and I have fought him before. Itadori, why don’t you start?”

Yuji stepped forward, his usual energy dampened by the gravity of the topic. His expression was serious as he glanced at all of you, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer. 

“Mahito’s cursed technique is really dangerous,” he began. “He can manipulate the shape of souls—his own, and other people’s. If he touches you, he can change your body’s form in an instant.” His voice tightened, the memory clearly difficult to revisit. 

“It’s not just painful, it’s... warping. You won’t be able to recognize yourself.”

Nobara frowned, her brows knitting together. “So, we just can’t let him touch us, then?”

Yuji nodded firmly. “Exactly. Even a single touch can be deadly.”

Nanami took over, his voice steady but carrying a weight that reflected his own experiences with the curse. 

“Mahito’s power makes him extremely difficult to fight up close. He’s not only skilled but also unpredictable. He can heal his body instantly, and the more you try to damage him, the more dangerous he becomes. There’s also the psychological aspect—he enjoys inflicting pain and suffering, both physically and mentally.”

There was a moment of silence as his words hung in the air, the seriousness of the situation settling over the group like a heavy blanket. 

You could feel your heartbeat quickening as you imagined what it would be like to face a curse like that, one that could alter your very form with just a touch.

Nanami’s gaze swept over the group once more. 

“When fighting Mahito, you have to maintain distance and keep your cursed energy defences up at all times. If you let your guard down for even a second, you’re putting yourself at risk.”

Gojo, who had remained quiet up until now, finally spoke. 

“He’s dangerous,” he said, his tone light but carrying an undercurrent of seriousness. 

“But it’s not impossible to beat him. You’ve got me, after all.” He gave a playful grin, but his usual spark seemed dimmer, and there was a stiffness in his posture as if he was forcing himself to appear unaffected.

His eyes briefly met yours, and for a moment, it felt like everything around you faded away. 

There was something unspoken there, a hint of the unresolved tension that had been simmering for days. But before you could even attempt to decipher it, he broke the gaze, turning his attention back to the group.

“Mahito may be powerful,” he continued ripping his gaze from you, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t outsmart him. Remember, he has a human-like mind. Use that to your advantage.”

Maki folded her arms over her chest, glancing between Gojo and Nanami. 

“So, that mean we need to work on keeping our distance and using long-range attacks.”

“Precisely,” Nanami replied with a curt nod. 

“Long-range attacks will reduce the risk of being touched, and maintaining your cursed energy as a barrier will help protect you. This training session will focus on those techniques.”

As Nanami began to detail the exercises you would all be running through, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Gojo’s presence beside you, like a magnetic pull that you were struggling to ignore. 

The brief moment of eye contact had stirred something within you—a mix of confusion and longing that you hadn’t been able to shake off since that night.

The group dispersed to different areas of the field, each person preparing to begin the training exercises. 

You caught sight of Gojo out of the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable as he spoke quietly with Nanami. 

When their conversation ended, Gojo turned to face the rest of you, his mask of confidence slipping back into place as he offered a bright smile.

“Let’s get started, then,” he called out. “I want to see those long-range techniques at full power.”

As everyone prepared to begin, you positioned yourself a little distance away from the others, your mind still replaying the way Gojo’s gaze had softened when he’d looked at you, and how quickly he’d turned away afterward. 

It was clear that things were different between you now—strained, uncertain, and weighed down by unspoken words. 

And despite the training at hand, you couldn’t help but wonder if the distance you felt would ever truly fade, or if it would only continue to grow.

Lost in your thoughts, you moved to reset your position after an exercise, your feet carrying you across the courtyard with automatic steps. You didn’t realize how distracted you were until it was too late, and suddenly, you walked right into something solid—someone solid.

The moment of impact jarred you back to reality. 

You stumbled, instinctively reaching out to steady yourself, your hands gripping onto the familiar fabric of a uniform jacket. 

When you looked up, your breath caught in your throat as you found yourself inches away from Gojo’s chest. 

His scent—clean and faintly sweet—filled your senses, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck as your eyes met his.

Gojo’s arms had shot out to catch you as you bumped into him, and he was holding you steady, his grip gentle yet firm. 

For a second, you could see the surprise flicker across his features, and then his expression shifted—awkwardness filling the space between you like a palpable force. 

His usual confident composure seemed to falter, his grip loosening on your arms as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to let go or keep holding you upright.

“Whoa, careful there,” he said, his voice just a little too light, a little too forced. He released his hold on you quickly, almost as if your touch had burned him. 

“Distracted much?”

You took a hurried step back, your cheeks burning as you struggled to recover from the embarrassing stumble. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes hidden behind his round shades. 

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

He gave a small chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“It happens,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze flickered away. The usual ease in his voice was missing, replaced by a strained tone that only seemed to amplify the awkwardness of the moment.

The two of you stood there for a beat too long, the silence stretching between you. You could sense the tension in his posture, the way he seemed to be holding himself back—like he was afraid of saying something wrong or letting the moment slip into something deeper. 

It was a stark contrast to the Gojo you were used to—the one who was always so carefree, so sure of himself. But now, that confidence seemed to waver, replaced by something much more uncertain.

“I, uh, better get back to the group,” you said, breaking the silence. You took another step back, your heart still pounding in your chest. 

“Sorry again.”

Gojo’s expression softened, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. 

“No harm done,” he said, his voice regaining a bit of its usual playfulness. But the awkwardness was still there, lingering in the way he shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

You quickly turned away, heading back toward the others with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion swirling inside you. 

As you resumed your position, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder. 

Gojo was still standing there, watching you with an unreadable expression. When he noticed you looking, he turned away, running a hand through his hair and letting out a breath that seemed to carry more than just relief.

—

By the time you had all finished training it was late, the kind of late where silence hung heavy in the air, and the darkness outside seemed impenetrable. 

The faint glow of the moon spilled through the window, casting slanted shadows across your room. You’d fallen asleep, exhausted from the day’s training, the weight of your worries finally pressing you into a fitful rest.

But sleep did not bring peace.

The dream came slowly at first—a haze of indistinct shapes and muffled sounds, like being submerged underwater. 

You felt that familiar pull in your chest, the creeping chill that signalled the arrival of something darker, something lurking just beneath the surface. 

Then, with a suddenness that stole your breath, the shapes around you sharpened, and you were no longer in your bed but standing in a shadowed forest, the air thick with an oppressive presence.

Your pulse quickened as you stumbled forward, the dense fog parting enough to reveal the silhouette of a figure standing in the distance. 

There was an eerie familiarity about him, like a memory you couldn’t quite place. His face—oh, his face—was there and then gone, flickering in and out of clarity. 

You could see his eyes, dark and unyielding, boring into you as if peering straight through your very soul. The edges of his features twisted and blurred, refusing to solidify into something recognizable, and yet... you felt like you knew him.

“Who... who are you?” You gasped out, your voice trembling as you took a step back. The fog seemed to thicken around you, as though it were alive, clawing at your skin with icy tendrils.

He didn’t respond, didn’t move. 

But the energy radiating from him was unmistakable—heavy, suffocating, and blacker than night. It crawled toward you, seeping into the ground beneath your feet.

Panic surged through your veins as that cursed energy latched onto you, tightening around your limbs and chest like chains. 

The searing pain that followed was immediate and all-consuming, as though your very essence was being pulled apart thread by thread.

“No—stop!” you cried, your voice shattering the stillness. 

The figure’s face flickered again, coming closer, so close you could almost see the details, but not enough to give him a name. His lips curled into a cold, cruel smile, and suddenly you were falling—falling into an endless darkness, swallowed up by the very curse that was tearing you apart.

In the real world, your body was tense, trapped in the throes of your nightmare. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you tossed and turned, your breaths coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

From the hallway, Gojo heard your muffled cries. 

He had been on his way back to his own quarters when the sound reached him—a faint, broken sob that instantly sent a jolt of alarm through him. He didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he was at your door, throwing it open and rushing to your bedside.

“Y/n!” he called out, his voice firm but tinged with urgency. He reached out to shake your shoulder, but you didn’t stir. 

Your cries grew louder, more frantic, your body trembling as you fought against the unseen horrors in your dream.

“Y/n, wake up!” Gojo’s tone shifted, more desperate than before as he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over your damp cheeks in an attempt to pull you from the grip of the nightmare. 

“Come on, wake up!”

But it was as if you were locked away, trapped in that dark place where he couldn’t reach you. 

Your voice broke, a scream tearing from your throat as the figure in your dream reached out, his hand curling around your neck, squeezing with a force that stole the air from your lungs.

Gojo’s heart raced as he watched you writhe, your hands clawing at the air as if trying to fight off an invisible attacker. He tightened his hold on you, leaning closer as his own panic began to rise. 

“Y/n, it’s just a dream, you have to wake up!” His voice dropped to a softer tone, a rare tenderness breaking through his usual composure. “Please, wake up.”

As if his voice finally pierced through the darkness, you jolted awake with a sharp intake of breath, your eyes snapping open as though you’d been yanked from underwater. 

Your chest heaved with each ragged breath, and your vision swam as you struggled to ground yourself.

The moment awareness returned, so did the overwhelming terror. 

Your hands flew up to cover your face as you gasped for air, sobs tearing from your throat uncontrollably. You were shaking—deep, violent tremors that wracked your entire body, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t seem to stop.

“Hey, hey...” Gojo’s voice was closer now, his hands gently prying yours away from your face so he could see you. “Breathe, y/n,” he murmured, the concern in his voice unmistakable. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

The sound of his voice, the warmth of his touch, started to break through the haze of panic, but it wasn’t enough to stem the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“It was him,” you choked out between sobs, your voice trembling so badly you could hardly form the words. “I saw... his face. But it’s always slipping away, like I can’t—can’t remember it.”

Gojo pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you with a protective tightness.

“Oh Satoru it’s so real, it’s always so real,” you said, clinging to him like a lifeline, burying your face against his chest as you continued to cry, your tears soaking into his shirt. 

His hand moved soothingly along your back, his other hand gently cradling your head. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice low and steady as he tried to calm you. “You don’t have to remember it now. Just breathe.”

It took several long moments before your sobs began to subside, the comfort of his embrace slowly grounding you. 

You drew in a shaky breath, leaning into his touch as the last remnants of the nightmare faded from your mind. 

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek—it was enough to remind you that you were back in reality, that he was here, and that you weren’t alone.

When your breathing finally steadied, you lifted your head slightly, blinking away the lingering tears. It was then you realized just how close you were. 

Your face was still tucked against his chest, his arms encircling you as though he had no intention of letting go. The air around you seemed to grow thicker as the reality of the situation settled in.

Gojo’s breath hitched slightly, his gaze drifting down to meet yours. The sudden awareness of your proximity made his ears tinge with colour, and he cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his hold on you. 

“You, uh... sure you’re okay now?” His voice wavered, betraying the faintest hint of discomfort.

You nodded, quickly pulling back, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine... sorry,” you mumbled, the embarrassment creeping in to replace the fear. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” he said quickly, though he hesitated for a moment before stepping back and dropping his arms to his sides. His usual air of nonchalance seemed almost forced as he gave a lopsided grin. 

“I was just passing by, y’know? Lucky for you, I’m always around when you need me.”

“Right,” you murmured, your cheeks still flushed as you glanced away.

The silence between you stretched, growing increasingly awkward. Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, the tension evident in his posture. 

“Well, uh... I should probably let you get back to sleep,” he said, taking a step toward the door. “But if it happens again... don’t hesitate to call for me. I’ll come running.”

You offered a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Gojo.”

He flashed a brief, genuine smile in return before slipping out of your room, pulling the door shut behind him. 

As he walked back down the dim hallway, his thoughts lingered on the sight of your tear-streaked face, the way you’d clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. 

A part of him wanted to turn back, to stay just a little longer, but he forced himself to keep walking, his expression shifting back into its usual confident mask.

Back in your room, you sank back into the covers, your heart still racing from the nightmare. 

You could still feel the echo of his arms around you, the comfort of his presence, and for just a moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t facing this darkness alone.

—

It was after yet another training session, one where Gojo had cut in before you even had the chance to break a sweat, that you found yourself wandering aimlessly in the halls of Jujutsu High. 

Frustration simmered beneath your skin, the tightness in your chest a constant reminder of how little control you had over anything lately—not your cursed energy, not your training, and certainly not Gojo’s sudden shift in behavior.

As you turned a corner, you caught sight of Gojo and Nanami standing near the courtyard’s entrance. 

Their voices were low, but even at a distance, you could see the tension in the set of Nanami's shoulders, the way Gojo’s normally relaxed posture seemed just a bit too rigid. 

You hesitated, lingering just out of view, an unspoken need to know what was really going on between them keeping you rooted to the spot.

“Gojo, this isn’t like you,” Nanami’s voice carried, even in its quietness. There was a sharp edge to it, a concern buried beneath the layer of his usual composed tone. 

“You’ve been acting... different. Stressed, even.”

Gojo chuckled, a dry, humourless sound. 

“Stressed?” He echoed, tilting his head slightly as if considering the word for the first time.

“I didn’t think you noticed such things, Nanami. Maybe you’re finally starting to loosen up.”

Nanami’s expression didn’t shift; his gaze remained steady, unfazed by the attempt at deflection. 

“This isn’t a joke,” he said bluntly. “You’ve been stepping in more than necessary. It’s not like you to be this—” he paused, searching for the right word, “—overbearing.”

For a moment, there was a flicker of something in Gojo’s eyes—an unguarded glimpse of the strain he was under, as if the weight he carried had finally begun to crack his ever-present mask of calmness. 

His jaw tightened, and his usual casual demeanour slipped, just slightly, enough for even you to notice the change.

“She’s in danger,” Gojo replied, his voice dropping to a low, almost raw intensity. “More than any of you realize.”

Nanami’s brow furrowed, his skepticism evident. 

“We deal with danger all the time, Gojo. It’s our job. But you’re treating this like it’s something personal.”

“It is personal,” Gojo shot back, the words escaping before he could catch them. There was a fire in his gaze, a frustration that bordered on desperation. 

“Whatever’s happening to her, it’s not just some curse we can exorcise and move on from. Someone is pulling the strings, and they’re doing it right under our noses.”

Nanami’s eyes softened, the sternness in his expression giving way to a kind of resigned understanding. 

“And you’re afraid,” he stated, not as a question but as a fact, the truth behind Gojo's behaviour finally laid bare. “That’s why you’ve been hovering. Why you can’t keep your distance.”

Gojo’s silence spoke volumes. He looked away, his gaze drifting towards the courtyard where the students often gathered. The lightness in his usual stance was gone, replaced by a weight he couldn’t seem to shrug off. 

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he admitted quietly, almost as if confessing to himself. “And I can’t stand it.”

Nanami’s voice softened, though his words were firm. 

“You won’t be any help to her if you let this consume you. You’re not doing her any favours by trying to shoulder it all alone.” He paused, letting the weight of his advice settle. 

“You need to trust that she’s strong enough to fight this too. Otherwise, you’re just keeping her in a cage.”

Gojo’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze lingering on the courtyard for a moment longer before he finally turned back to face Nanami. 

“I know,” he said, though his voice was strained. “But knowing that and letting go are two different things.”

Gojo glanced back toward the direction of the training grounds, where you were surely still within earshot. 

His gaze softened, the tension around his eyes easing just enough to show a flicker of the concern he held so tightly in check. 

The usual sparkle in his eyes seemed dulled, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down harder than usual. 

His shoulders slumped slightly, betraying the exhaustion he had been trying to hide behind his casual demeanour. 

“I rejected her,” he said, his voice strained, as if the admission was a stone he had been carrying for far too long. 

“I thought… if I could push her away, keep some kind of distance, it would protect her—and me. That maybe if I didn’t let myself get emotionally involved, I could handle all of this better.”

Nanami watched him, his expression unyielding yet tempered with understanding. 

“You thought that keeping her at arm’s length would make it easier,” he said, his voice steady. “But it hasn’t, has it?”

Gojo shook his head slowly, the familiar mask of arrogance slipping away, leaving him vulnerable. 

“No,” he admitted, a bitter laugh escaping him. “If anything, it’s only made things worse. It’s like… no matter how much I try to shove my feelings aside; they keep finding their way back to her. She’s in my head—everywhere I look, I’m thinking about what might happen to her, and how I can stop it.”

Nanami’s brows drew together in quiet contemplation as he took a step closer to Gojo, his tone even. 

“It sounds to me like it’s too late to pretend you’re not emotionally involved,” he said, the weight of the words settling heavily in the air. 

“You already are, whether you want to admit it or not. The way you’re acting—the overprotectiveness, the constant hovering—it’s not just concern, Gojo...”

The words seemed to pierce through Gojo, who glanced away, his jaw clenching as he struggled with the truth laid bare before him. 

“I know,” he whispered, the confession rough at the edges. “But what good is caring if it just makes me hesitate? If it gets her hurt?”

Nanami let out a quiet breath, his gaze steady on Gojo’s tense form. 

“Ignoring your feelings won’t make them go away,” he said, his voice firm yet calm. 

“And it certainly won’t help her. If anything—it’s clouding your judgment. You’ve been so focused on trying not to care that you’re missing the bigger picture. Is it really worth pretending that you don’t give a damn just to protect yourself?”

Gojo’s expression tightened, the conflict within him clear in the way his hand clenched into a fist at his side. 

“I’m not trying to protect myself,” he argued, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “I just… I don’t know if I can handle it if something happens to her. I don’t know how to fix this, Nanami.”

Nanami’s voice softened as he placed a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, an uncommon gesture of support from the typically reserved man. 

“We all know you want to help her,” he said. “But you can’t help her if you’re constantly trying to put walls between the two of you. You need to let her in, trust her strength as much as you expect her to trust yours.”

Gojo’s gaze softened as he glanced back toward the training grounds, his eyes tracing the path you had taken moments earlier. 

“She doesn’t know how much I need her to be okay,” he murmured, the quiet confession barely audible.

“Then let her see it,” Nanami replied, his tone unwavering as he took a step back. “Before it’s too late.”

With that, Nanami turned away and walked back down the hall, leaving Gojo standing there, grappling with the full weight of his emotions for the first time in a long while. 

Gojo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his fingers flexing into fists before releasing again, tension rippling through his posture. 

He stared at the empty space where Nanami had just been, his words echoing in his mind like an unrelenting mantra. 

He didn’t know how to show you what he was feeling—not when he was so used to hiding behind a veil of jokes and a devil-may-care attitude. Not when showing you would mean admitting, even to himself, just how deep he had already let you in.

With a frustrated sigh, he shoved his hands into his pockets and took a step forward, then another, as if motion itself could somehow dispel the unrest stirring within him. 

Unbeknownst to him, you were still there, tucked away around the corner, holding your breath as you had listened to every word. 

You had stopped in your tracks earlier when you heard Nanami and Gojo’s voices, intending to turn around before they saw you. 

But the moment Gojo had begun to speak—when his tone dropped from its usual playful timbre to something raw and unguarded—you hadn’t been able to move. It was as if your feet had become rooted to the floor, as if some part of you had known that what you were about to hear would be something you weren’t meant to know.

You held your breath as Gojo came into view, and for a moment, you were struck by how different he seemed—his usual careless confidence replaced by something that looked almost like defeat. 

His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were focused somewhere distant, his expression troubled in a way that you had never seen on him before.

But as he walked further down the hall, something shifted. 

The frustration seemed to catch up to him, and he suddenly stopped, his hands leaving his pockets as he ran them roughly through his hair. 

The small, restless motion betrayed the agitation simmering beneath his calm exterior, and it was enough to make your chest tighten with an unexpected ache.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was about seeing him like this—unravelled and unguarded—that hit you so deeply. 

Perhaps it was because, in that moment, you understood just how much he had been holding back, how hard he had been trying to keep everything together. 

Or maybe it was because you realized, with startling clarity, that you weren’t the only one struggling to navigate the distance between you.

As Gojo’s shoulders sagged slightly in resignation, he took a few more steps down the hall before stopping again. 

He turned his head ever so slightly, almost as if he could sense someone watching, and your breath hitched in your throat as you quickly pressed yourself back against the wall, out of sight. 

You could hear the frustration in the exhale he let out, a low, weary sound that cut through the silence.

Without another word, Gojo resumed walking, his pace a little faster this time, like he was trying to escape the emotions that had been left hanging in the air.

You waited until the sound of his footsteps faded completely before you dared to move, your heart pounding in your chest as the weight of what you had just heard settled over you.

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, staring at the empty hallway and trying to piece together the meaning behind Gojo’s confession. 

But one thing was clear: whatever wall he had put up between the two of you, it was beginning to crumble, and it terrified you just as much as it comforted you.

[cece693]

you wrote about the mad hatter so well... i don't want to overwhelm you, obviously, but i would love a 2nd part!! and maybe in the future you can write some smut scenario with him? 😶‍🌫️

You're Not Crazy Pt. 2 (The Mad Hatter x M! Reader)

Here's the second part :) I'm iffy on writing smut for the Hatter since he's so childlike and I think he wouldn't go that far with someone, he probably finds kissing pleasurable enough, but who knows. I'll probably end up doing it 🤷‍♀️

tags: angst, happy ending, the reader tries to say goodbye, mentions of Alice, the reader is an idiot, but redeems himself

The Hatter's words stung, but you couldn't stay with him. You didn’t belong to Wonderland, as much as you envisioned yourself adapting to the world. You didn’t share its whimsical madness, its strange logic that defied all reason. You loved its colors, its characters—especially him—but deep down, you felt like an outsider playing pretend in a place that wasn’t truly yours.

So, you left.

Back in the real world, everything felt strangely muted. The once-familiar streets seemed dull and lifeless, lacking the vibrancy of Wonderland. Your sister Alice noticed your somber mood almost immediately. She’d seen you come back looking tired or perplexed before, but never like this. It was as if the life was sucked out of you; You weren’t yourself. She knew something big must've happened to put you in such a state.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the room, Alice found you sitting by the window, staring off into the distance. She approached quietly, her voice soft. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back. What happened in Wonderland?"

You hesitated, the words sat heavily on your tongue, reluctant to be spoken. How could you even begin to describe what had transpired in Wonderland? The way the air had seemed to still when the Hatter looked at you with those wild eyes, the hurt lurking behind his laughter? But after a moment, you sighed and decided to open up, knowing Alice would pester you otherwise.

“The Hatter…he told me to leave. He said I should return home. So, I did.”

Alice watched you carefully, her brow furrowed with concern. “But why would he say that?” she asked softly. She knew the Hatter was eccentric and unpredictable, but she had seen how he looked at you, how his eyes lit up whenever you were near.

You shook your head, frustration mixing with the ache in your chest. “I don’t know.” you admitted, though it wasn’t entirely true. “I think…I think he was afraid. Afraid I’d leave on my own someday, find something more important than him.” Your voice wavered, and you clenched your fists to steady yourself. “He wanted to push me away before I could do it to him.”

Alice remained silent for a moment, her expression softening as she pieced together what you weren’t saying. “So, you just left because he told you to?” she asked, not accusingly but with a kind of gentle reproach. “Without telling him how you felt?”

You looked down, guilt settling like a stone in your stomach. “I thought it was what he wanted.” you murmured. “I didn’t want to hurt him more by staying. But leaving…it felt wrong, too. It still does.”

Alice reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You men and your pride,” she said with a soft chuckle. “You’re both acting like fools. You know that, right?”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, patient and knowing. “I mean that sometimes, people say things they don’t mean because they’re scared of being hurt. The Hatter’s a complicated man, but he’s not so different from anyone else in that way. You need to go back and talk to him. Really talk to him. Otherwise, you’ll never know what could’ve been.”

Her words struck a chord deep within you, resonating with the doubts and hopes that had been churning inside you since you left. She was right—you couldn’t leave things like this, with both of you hiding behind unspoken fears. You had to face it, face him, and figure out what you truly wanted.

Returning to Wonderland was like stepping back into a dream, one that you’d missed desperately in your time away. The colors were brighter, the sounds sharper, yet everything felt strangely muted by the tension in your chest. As you made your way back to the tea party clearing, you could feel your heart pounding harder with every step, a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

When you arrived, you found the Hatter sitting at his usual spot at the head of the long, cluttered table. He was hunched over, a hat perched lopsided on his head, his fingers busy stitching a ribbon that looked like it was fraying at the ends. His back was to you, but the moment he heard your footsteps crunching on the gravel, he stiffened ever so slightly.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon,” he said, his tone light and airy, but you could hear the strain in it—like a string pulled too tight. “Come to say a proper goodbye?”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on your shoulders. “Yes, but I want to do it right. I don't want to leave with things unresolved between us."

The Hatter turned to face you slowly, his usual mad grin stretching across his face, but it was different this time. His eyes, usually bright and wild, were shadowed, clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. “Well then,” he said, forcing a laugh that sounded more like a broken sigh, “goodbye it is! Off you go, then! Don’t let the rabbit hole hit you on the way out!”

Without thinking, you reached out and pulled him into a hug. His body went rigid at first, as if he didn’t know how to react. You could feel his rapid breaths against your chest, hear the hitch in his throat as he struggled to keep up the façade. Then, slowly, he softened, his arms coming up to clutch at your back, holding you as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground.

“Why are you doing this?” he whispered, his voice cracking, caught somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Why are you making this so hard?”

“Because I don’t want to leave you,” you confessed, your voice thick with emotion. “But I don’t know how to stay when I feel like I don’t belong here.”

The Hatter pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “You do belong. To me, you do.”

His words pierced through you, breaking down the last of your defenses. You thought you had made up your mind to leave, to return to the real world where everything made sense, where things followed rules. But in that moment, nothing made sense without him.

You stepped back, letting go of him even though it hurt. “Goodbye, Hatter.” you said softly, turning away. “I’ll miss you.”

As you started up the path that would take you back home, every step felt like dragging a weight behind you. You reached the midway point, the fork in the path where one route would lead you back to reality. You paused, your heart aching with each second that passed. You glanced back, your breath catching in your throat when you saw him still standing there, watching you leave with a look of pure devastation.

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t leave him like this.

Turning on your heel, you sprinted back down the path, the wind whipping against your face as you ran. You didn’t stop until you were right in front of him again. His eyes widened in shock, his lips parting to ask something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, pouring all the emotion you’d been holding back into that kiss—your fear, your love, your need to stay.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he stared at you, his eyes wide and searching. “You…you came back?”

“I did,” you said, smiling through the tears in your eyes. “If you’ll have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, he looked as if he didn’t believe you, his gaze darting over your face as if trying to find some hint of doubt or hesitation. But then his lips slowly curved into a smile—a real, genuine smile that lit up his entire face. “Oh, yes. Yes, indeed! And we shall have tea every day, and perhaps cake, and perhaps something more delightful!”

You laughed, a lightness settling over you that you hadn’t felt in days. “Sounds like a plan.”

[creatingblackcharacters]

You made a post earlier today replying to an ask, saying about how a lot of people don't see shades of brown as interesting/with depth, which obviously is sad because there's so many gorgeous shades of brown and epic things that are brown.

Anyways I've started compiling some lists of stuff that's brown and what some uses might be as far as writing descriptions; would you like to be tagged if I make a post, since I was inspired to dig deeper and got excited about my list because of your comment? Want to make sure you get credit if you want but aren't annoyed by it if you don't ♡

Also I know food words are kinda a "no" for describing skin tone for most people, are there any other things you think are best to steer clear/be more careful of? There's lots of really beautiful beetles for example that have lovely shimmery deep brown wings but idk if it'd be rude to describe a human character in a way similar to a bug. I'm an entomologist so obviously I see it as a compliment to have colors like a paper wasp or a beetle, but I want to make sure I'm not blinded by my own adoration of bugs 🪳

That would be lovely! Like I said, it's not the lack of words, it's just the mentality that they don't find brown beautiful. So don't be hurt initially when it seems like some people aren't grateful or are being dicks about it. I assure you, I will be 👍🏾

I hate that food is a no, fr. I find food colors beautiful! I think cinnamon, nutmeg, and peanut butter are lovely colors! It really is just how they get used. I personally think you should include them, but add a note that some people do not take well, and so mind how you're using the words. Show some variety, don't offer your white characters every type of white and then every Black person is a piece of food.

I think if you're going to compare to bugs, you gotta use that creativity you just used to talk about the beetle. 😅 But admittedly I would not be happy being told my eyes were brown like a paper wasp, no. I'd need that entomologist background. It'd be unique though! I'd love to read a story where that happened, just to see. But there are plenty of beautiful bugs too! All the butterflies!

Thank you for thinking of this, and for reaching out to me for credit- that was really nice of you.

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 22: a grudge easily lost

word count: 2,469 tag: @bruhidkjustwannaread | @rubyxx16 | @bellabarnes1378 | @johnmurphys-sass

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

You sat in the study at Arrow House, your fingers loosely holding a cigarette that had long since burned out. The soft ticking of the clock on the mantle was the only sound until Tommy entered. His expression was unreadable, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

“Frank Hargreaves is here,” he said simply, lighting a cigarette of his own.

Your head snapped up, a flicker of surprise flashing across your face before you quickly masked it.

“He wants to speak to you.”

For a moment, you said nothing. Your fingers drummed a restless rhythm on the arm of the chair.

Tommy took a long drag from his cigarette. He sat by the window, a pensive expression still on his face.

Whether it was from irritation or amusement, you softly chuckled. “And do you plan on sitting in for this conversation?”

He sighed, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll sit quietly.”

There was no use arguing; you knew that look in his eyes. Reluctantly, you nodded.

When Frank walked in, a cold sweat beaded across your forehead. He was thinner than Arthur had described. His clothes hung loosely on his frame as if they’d been tailored for a younger, healthier man. His face was worn, etched with deep lines of grief and guilt, but his eyes carried a flicker of something resolute.

You stood as he entered, your back straight and your expression guarded. Tommy remained seated in the corner, silent as promised, though his piercing gaze didn’t leave the the uninvited guest.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Frank said, his voice rough but steady. He gave you a small nod, his hands twisting a worn hat. “I understand I did not give much notice, but, regardless, I thank you for entertaining the ramblings of an old man.”

You didn’t return the courtesy of hello or even a nod of acknowledgement.

Frank hesitated, his fingers tightening around the brim of his hat. “I'm sure you know by now that Arthur Shelby came to me.”

You crossed your arms, your jaw tightening as he spoke.

“I owe you an apology,” Frank said, his voice faltering. “When my son died, I listened to the wrong people. I trusted the wrong people. Let them twist my grief into something ugly. I shouldn’t have believed what Alfred said about you. I see that now.”

Where Frank might have expected a twitch of recognition or sympathy at his words, you remained still. The words finally came out with a dry tone, unwilling to show any hint of emotion. “That's quite the conclusion, Frank.”

He flinched but didn’t look away. “I was a broken man, y/n. I lost my son, and I needed someone to blame. Alfred gave me that. It was easier to blame you than to face the truth.”

You laughed. It was a bitter sound, humorless and verbose. From his seat, Tommy watched on, wondering if you might unravel, but your silence told him everything. You were going to let the uncomfortable silence in between the conversation compel Frank to speak instead, and in your lack of response, all would spill out onto the floor.

“I let my anger blind me to truth. The doctor told me the same thing he told Arthur. Ezra asked for you with his dying breath.”

Your gaze snapped sharply. “What do you want from me, Frank?”

Frank lowered his head. “I don’t deserve forgiveness. I just… I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for what I said to you all those years ago.”

For a long moment, the room was silent, save for the faint crackle of the fire. You breathed steadily, but Tommy could see the way your shoulders trembled slightly, the way your nails dug into your palms.

“Is that all?” you asked coldly, your voice devoid of emotion.

Frank hesitated, then took a step closer. “There’s one more thing.” He glanced at Tommy, who hadn’t moved or spoken, but whose presence was impossible to ignore. “Him.”

Tommy raised a brow, leaning back slightly.

Frank nodded. “There’s something about you. The way you sit there, silent but watchful. The way you look at her.” He turned back to you, his voice softening. “You look at her the way Ezra used to.”

Your breath hitched, your composure faltering for the first time. “Don’t,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He offered a sad smile. “It’s not a bad thing, y/n. I only mean to say that, at the very least, I am relieved that you have someone.”

Tommy’s gaze drifted to you as you stared at the floor, your face pale. “Thank you for taking the time to come out here, Mr. Hargreaves,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I will have someone drive you back to the train station.”

Frank nodded, his shoulders slumping. Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving the room heavy with unspoken emotions.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Frank pulled the collar of his coat tighter as he stepped out into the biting cold of the Arrow House grounds. He paused, glancing back at the imposing house, its sharp silhouette against the cloudy sky. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he came, but the weight in his chest felt a little lighter now.

“Leaving so soon?”

The unfamiliar voice made him turn. Polly stood a few paces away, her arms crossed over her chest, her dark coat billowing slightly in the wind. Her sharp eyes missed nothing as they raked over him, taking in the weariness etched into his face.

“Yes, I said what I came to say,” Frank replied, his voice tired. “No point in lingering.”

Polly gave a small, knowing nod and stepped closer. “And how did she take it?”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “She’s… different now. Not the girl I knew. But she responded exactly in the manner I expected. Cold and unwavering. Though, I suppose, I had no right to expect any warmth from her.”

“No,” Polly agreed, her voice softening. “She’s not the girl you knew. Heartbreak and loss do that to people, as you well know. I'm afraid it makes us cold if nothing else.”

Frank hesitated, his fingers twisting his hat. “I barely recognize her. And... Please, pardon my prying. The gentleman—”

"—His name is Thomas." Polly tilted her head, studying him for a moment before answering. “He's complicated. So is she. Their story took time, but I think, for them, time is what was necessary.”

Frank frowned at the brief explanation, his brow furrowing. “Does he care for her?”

Polly’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes were serious. “Tommy doesn’t let people in easily. But when he does, he holds onto them like they’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world. She's not just another conquest to him, not his property like everything else. She’s his equal. And for all his flaws, he’d burn the world down if she only asked him to.”

"And if she asked him not to?"

"Then Thomas Shelby would hand her the match and trust her to make the right decision."

Frank was quiet for a moment, digesting her words. “That is comforting,” he said finally. “I must admit, I may have been wrong again. Perhaps he's nothing like my Ezra. My son kept her grounded. Thomas looks as if he'd help her take flight if that was what she wished.”

“Yes, he would,” she said plainly, though her tone wasn’t unkind. “She’s not alone anymore, Frank. She’s got people who’ll fight for her, even when she doesn’t think she deserves it. Most importantly, she's claimed the soul of the most powerful man in Birmingham, and I don't think he has any plans of letting her go. Many of us die before finding that kind of bond.”

Frank sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. “I always thought by now, I'd have grandchildren. Hers and Ezra's. I wasted so much time doubting her. Perhaps, if things had been different, she would have allowed me to stay in her life. Witness her life with the kind of love she deserves.”

“Regret is a heavy burden,” Polly said quietly. “But it’s not too late to make peace with the past. You’ve taken the first step by coming here. The rest is up to her. If she chooses, she will let you back in, Frank.”

He nodded, his eyes misting slightly. “He loved her, you know. Ezra. He’d talk about her like she was the only thing that mattered. Even at the end…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I can see why. Frankly, the girl scares me. But I guess, that makes her all the more sincere.”

“She is quite terrifying,” Polly agreed. “And she’ll find her way through this. With Tommy, with us, or even on her own if she has to.”

Frank offered a faint smile, a mix of sadness and hope in his expression. “Thank you, Ms. Gray. For this conversation, and for inviting me to speak to her.”

The faint crunch of gravel underfoot caught his ear, and when he turned, you were walking towards them.

You were calm, composed, but there was a weight in your stride that made Frank straighten instinctively. Tommy lingered at the front steps, watching silently, as Polly joined him to observe. There was no need for conversation—this moment was yours alone.

You stopped a few feet from Frank, arms crossed over your chest. Your gaze shifted briefly to the suitcase before locking onto his eyes. Frank opened his mouth to speak, but you raised a hand, stopping him.

“I came to say…” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Tommy’s silent presence behind you gave you the strength to continue. “I came to say I forgive you.”

“y/n, I—”

“No,” you interrupted. “Let me finish. I have lived for quite some time with guilt—guilt that should never have been placed so harshly on my shoulders. However, I would be no better than Alfred if I allowed you to feel the same.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pressed on. “Ezra loved me, and that’s what I’m choosing to remember. The rest is simply time lost.”

Frank's shoulders sagged even further, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I was lost,” he said, his voice barely audible.

“So was I, Frank.” You smiled softly. “I know you loved him. And so did I. I do hope you can make peace. With yourself, if no one else.”

“You were always a strong one,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with something almost like admiration. His gaze flickered to Tommy. “And him… he’ll keep you steady.”

You stiffened slightly, glancing back at Tommy. Frank’s words settled uncomfortably between them, though Tommy’s expression remained unreadable.

“I don’t need anyone to keep me steady, but I think Ezra would have liked knowing someone cared about me the way he did.”

Frank smiled faintly, a shadow of peace finally settling over his face. He extended a hand, and after a long pause, you shook it.

“Take care of yourself, y/n.” He picked up his suitcase. "And you as well, Mr. Shelby."

You turned toward the house, where Tommy stood watching from the shadows of the doorway. You gave him the smallest of nods, and he seemed to understand immediately.

“Send the boys to see him off at the station,” you said to him as you approached. “Make sure he gets there safely.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t argue. He kissed your temple briefly—so quick it might have gone unnoticed—and then headed inside to gather the others. You stayed outside, watching as Frank as he cordially greeted his escorts, his shoulders still heavy but his steps less burdened.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The small group of Blinders gathered around Frank as the train whistled in the distance. Arthur and Isaiah stood close by, their eyes scanning the platform for any sign of trouble. They didn't know what they were looking for, but it was always in these crowded places where they often found trouble. Frank fidgeted with his suitcase, clearly uneasy under their watchful gaze.

Arthur smirked, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t look so nervous, Frank. You’ll get to London in one piece.”

Frank managed a thin smile tinged with nerves. He glanced around the station, taking in the crowd of travelers and porters bustling about. It wasn’t until he stepped closer to the edge of the platform that he noticed a man standing several feet away, watching intently.

"Mr. Shelby." Frank muttered under his breath and nodded towards the stranger.

The man was tall and wiry, his hat pulled low over his face. He leaned casually against a pillar, but there was something unsettling in the way he didn’t break his gaze. Arthur caught it, too, his demeanor shifting as he stepped closer to Frank almost as a shield.

The stranger pushed off the pillar and approached. He stopped a few paces away, addressing Arthur directly.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Shelby,” the man said, his voice low and smooth. His lips curled into a smirk as he added, “Alfred Bingham sends his regards.”

Arthur’s expression darkened, his hand instinctively twitching toward the pocket where he kept his revolver. Isaiah moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the platform.

"He has a message for the Peaky Blinders." He raised his chin. "No more waiting."

“Tell Bingham,” Arthur said evenly, his voice like steel, “he won’t have to wait long. And to keep his bloody gun loaded.”

The man chuckled, tipping his hat. “Very well, Mr. Shelby.”

Without another word, the stranger turned and melted back into the crowd. Arthur exhaled sharply, his jaw clenched as he exchanged a look with Isaiah.

“Fuckin' bastard doesn’t know when to give up,” Isaiah muttered, shaking his head.

Arthur nodded, his eyes following the man until he disappeared from view. “Good. It means he'll be on edge, and we'll be ready.”

Frank shifted uneasily, his hand gripping the handle of his suitcase. “Should I be worried?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Arthur turned to him, his grin returning despite the tension. “Not for you, mate. Just get on that train. We’ll deal with the rest.”

The train’s whistle blew again, and Frank hesitated before stepping toward the waiting carriage. He glanced back once, catching Arthur’s confident smirk and Isaiah’s nod of reassurance. Then he boarded, disappearing into the compartment as the train began to pull away.

Arthur watched the train until it disappeared from view, then turned to Isaiah. “Bingham's making his move. Better get back to Arrow House.”

Isaiah nodded, and the two of them left the station, their steps quick and purposeful. The message had been received loud and clear, and they knew Tommy would already be preparing for whatever came next.

[cripplecharacters]

(1/?) Hey! Anon B here. I am writing a physically disabled character who uses a wheelchair (and occasionally other mobility aids, like a cane). This character is... morally dark grey? One of the leading figures of a benevolent group, but not exactly 'good' himself. He is not my only disabled character in the story. I have two broad questions,,, 1, do you have anything I should NOT lean into when writing him as a villain? Any ableist stereotypes that often occur that I can avoid?

(1/2) Anything that would be nice to see or useful to keep in mind for a villainous disabled character, other than being respectful and making him a /character/, not a stereotype? Second question, since this character is in a wheelchair, are there any movement tags (wheeled instead of walked) that I could use? Some quick notes about things he can and cannot do while using the chair? He can stand up and walk, but it's painful and tiring, and he still needs mobility aids,,,

Hey!

For general don'ts of writing a disabled villain, check out this post. It's good that he's not the only generally disabled character, but it'd be ideal if there were other non-villainous wheelchair users (so you're not in a "good guys are invisibly disabled, villain is visibly disabled" situation).

For words to use for describing a wheelchair user moving, check out this list.

What he can and can't do will depend on a lot of factors, but mostly what his actual disability is. Some people can do basically anything while using their wheelchairs, some need caregivers to help them with ADLs (activities of daily living) - the best idea is to research on your character's exact disability and what kind of wheelchair he uses (I'm presuming manual since you said "wheeled", but there's other kinds). But either way you need to keep in mind accessibility or its lack thereof which may dictate where he can physically go, how high he can reach, etc.

Sorry for the extremely late answer,

mod Sasza

[intersexcat-tboy]

"I put it on the tag so that intersex people would be more likely to see" you want to subject us to your bigotry? GTFO of our tags holy shit you really posted this whole ass expecting a minority to educate you out of your bigotry? While FIGHTING them on it?

First and foremost, intersex is not a sex nor gender. While some may claim objections to the term 'transintersex' sound reminiscent of TERF rhetoric, it's crucial to acknowledge that they stem from entirely different foundations, TERFS ultimately and completely lacking one.

Saying "it's something you're born as" isn't inherently TERF rhetoric. There are many things someone must be born for them be. That's what congenital means. Intersex, by definition, is innate. Womanhood does not have this restriction, in fact, it's impossible to be born as a woman, as it's based around being an adult.

"intersex is something you're [born] as" [innate] is in fact the definition of intersex. It is an innate characteristic. Womanhood does not have this definition

These are going to be out of order, also I ended up deciding fuck anonymity halfway through getting the screenshots. There's a line of intersexism I'll excuse, mainly in ignorance, before I warned people about about you

It does not matter what you think! Our oppression is not accurately understood by our oppressors! You are not the target of harm, so you have no real concept of what actually occurs to us. This is no different than a cis person claiming they don't see transphobia or don't understand why something is transphobic, so it must actually not be harmful, since the bully doesn't think so! I said multiple times it IS happening. Also, weird I can't say that trans women often follow a route to transition (first SS), yet you can claim bigender is wanting both genitals and it's ok to point that out (second SS below, highlighted)??

"you're transitioning into a stereotype" is said to trans women regardless of how they transition, it's mainly about social transition. People say they're transitioning to intersex mainly to describe the change of genitals or hormone levels, but it's nearly always genital surgery.

There it is folks! Idk how much more clear I can say "unless you consider intersex to be a separate gender/sex, which is harmful on itself", but somehow it's read as me saying "intersex isn't about sex"

I'm cutting myself short bc there's a lot more and I don't have the energy, so sorry if some parts don't make sense. One earlier screenshot was combined to shorten it to focus on the ascepts I would respond to, so that one is understandably confusing.

"If I'm wrong then educate me!" I have tried like four fucking times (not pictured bc repetitive), idk how many times I have to say things.

When everything you say is so blatantly misconstrued, to the point it almost seems on purpose, and it's hard to take these people seriously.

I genuinely worry sometimes, how can one manage through life when their perceived reality is so flawed and skewed? Sometimes this shit fucks me up too, and I start to question myself. I have to constantly scroll back and make sure that no, I did not "literally" say the things claimed. It would be gaslighting if it went on longer I'm not even kidding, it's meant to make you question yourself and there's times I do

[the-larry-way]

Writing Self-Evaluation 2024

thank you @red-pandaaa for tagging me! (I'm going to be including some personal evaluation as well since the actual template seems very published works focused)

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 30 (out of which 21 were posted in 2024 (all in December))

2. Word count posted for the year: 60,178 (plus 102,016 unpublished words)

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction (Band)

4. Pairings: Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles — I might branch out one day, but so far I'm happy writing about the two people who bring me so much joy.

5. Story with the most (2024): Kudos: we got all night (we're going nowhere) 64, Bookmarks: baby, it's cold (inside) and Knot Together 20, Comments (Threads): there's a devil in your smile, it's chasing me 11

Story with the most (all time): Kudos and Bookmarks: Whatever Floats Your Boat 650 and 365 respectively, (Fake/Pretend, Cruise Larry, one of my proudest works) Comment Threads: Little Heartbeat 42, (not my best. based on a teenager's understanding of love and life. I was 14 when I started writing it)

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): I'm probably most proud of my (Coming Soon) One Direction Big Bang fic. It's the longest thing I've ever written and the most fun I've had writing. As far as published works are concerned, I want to chicken and say I like my advent calendar but that's a cop out. So I probably will say the quinquagenarian. I think there aren't enough Older Larry fics in the fandom and I'm quite pleased with the banter in the fic. In general though, I'm really pleased with the Advent Calendar. It was a major challenge to come up with and write so many prompts (i'm still 5 short) but I think I rose well to the challenge!

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): I always say that I try to be proud of all of my works because they all made me the writer that I am today (who I am very proud of) but in the spirit of answering the question I would say Green Apple Daiquiri. The plot isn't meaningful or compelling and I feel like I show a lack of understanding of interpersonal relationships that isn't justified at 14. It feels very fake deep but I still remember being thrilled with my brilliance when I initially wrote it. Such is young naivety. And although it shows up as my first work on ao3, it's actually my third, so I feel like I had enough writing experience that I should've been doing better.

8. Share or describe a favourite review you received: There is a few that come to mind and I'll share all of them because I can't appreciate my readers enough.

Someone said something about something reading like a movie. I know that's terribly vague but I've pored over my inbox and failed to find it.

@statementlou (apologies if this isn't your ao3 name and i've unnecessarily tagged you) with their encouragement when I was feeling bad for not being able to catch up with my advent calendar

@nyxdaughterofkhaos she is probably the big reason why I've written as much as I have this year but specifically this comment "Ahhhh!!! Loved this so freaking much!!! I think I'm gonna have to stop saying i have favorite! You keep surprising me with these little amazing and adorable fics!!!" I had been taking so much delight in all her lovely comments but something about this felt like her kissing my forehead and telling me they're all my favorite and it made me teary eyed

@signofcomfort my other wonderful beta. she described a scene in my big bang fic as something in a sitcom (intended as a compliment) and in general has been singing praises of the banter in the fic.

@parmahamlarrie in this specific rec she said about a naughty little christmas miracle 'Something about this one has stuck with me all month. I loved it!' and it just made my heart soar.

Thank you to all readers and especially to those who leave comments.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: I didn't write much all year, but I've been on a roll since October. This last chapter of Knot Together was really hard. For the first time ever I rewrote the whole thing twice. I'm not a big rewriter so this was SO difficult. Especially doing the rewrites on that 24 hour timeline for 12 days of ficmas and all the while my beta was stuck without internet so I couldn't bounce ideas off anyone

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: I'm really bad at writing scenes with a lot of physicality. But I wrote a scene of Harry and Louis being goofy (the sitcom scene) that I was very pleased with.

11. A favourite excerpt of your writing: oh this is so hard. I never remember anything I write!! Full disclosure, this is basically the first thing I saw. But I am quite proud of it. It marks a massive turning point in the character's relationship with that kind of vulnerability (while still bantering). This is also the first publicly shared snippet of my @onedirectionbigbang fic. yay!!

Louis drifted in and out of sleep as he kept an eye on the bathroom door, eagerly awaiting his boy’s return. He grinned when the door opened. “Well hello, Little Harry,” Louis smirked, dragging his gaze slowly up Harry’s body till he met his eyes, a smug smirk on Harry’s lips as he stood in the doorway, towelling his hair, fully nude. “Little?” Harry looked down and scoffed. “Your scale is broken,” Harry hung up his towel on the towel rack before crawling into bed, getting under the covers. “Oooh bed’s all warm.” he murmured, smiling when Louis snuggled up to him immediately. “You did miss me, huh?” Harry chuckled, playing with his hair. “I did. More than you know,” he confessed. “Yeah? What would you do if I had decided I wanted to sleep in the guest room?” Harry teased. “Cried,” Louis said bluntly. “Begged you to let me sleep in the guestroom with you.” Harry’s face openly reflected his surprise at the raw honesty. “I didn’t sleep for a second last night, Harry,” he finally confessed.

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: i wrote a LOT. a lot of tropes and a lot of POVs. Practice makes perfect right? I think I wrote a strict POV for the first time. and it's alright. But I do enjoy telling my stories through third person omniscient/limited a LOT more

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I was supposed to write 500 words a day for 2024. Given that I didn't write for nearly the first 11 months of the year (i wrote for a week in january and then really started writing the week before halloween) the fact that I still ended up averaging 444 words a day is a resounding success. And something about angel numbers and stuff.

For next year, I plan on maintaining that goal. I have a few fics in mind that should help me accomplish that goal but I imagine it won't be easy between graduating college and starting my (anticipated to be very demanding) job.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): @indiaalphawhiskey is always an inspiration. she is probably one of, if not the best writer I've ever read.

@nyxdaughterofkhaos has been a massive help in both encouragement and brainstorming

@chai-hat-tea has been another rock with brainstorming and cheerleading.

@justanothershadeofblue for helping me brainstorm and plan Knot Together even when my other friends were discouraging me. For creating a space where i can be pouty and uncharitable without hurting people. for everything

I think a lot of thanks goes to my sweet little cat Kimchi who has not only inspired fics directly, but also is the muse for a lot of cats that are showing up in my fics here and there. But more directly, my desire to stay in and cuddle with her often resulted in writing.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: yes actually!!

there's a devil in your smile, it's chasing me was inspired by the first ice hockey match I ever attended just days before! (i did not get ditched by a date and kissed by the devil)

calm down, girl was inspired by my own anxieties of boarding my Kimchi. (i did not have a cute employee volunteer to send me daily pictures)

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: just write. stop waiting for the perfect time, the perfect prompt, the perfect mood. just write. The more you write the more easily it'll come to you. And don't be afraid to ask for help.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: so many!! I'm looking forward to getting back to writing (and finishing) my big bang fic, and I intend on making both my girl dad louis and shapeshifting fics into full length fics! I haven't given a lot of thought to the latter two just yet but I fully intend to.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

no pressure to do this but would love to hear from you all! @justanothershadeofblue, @chai-hat-tea, @larry-hiatus, @indiaalphawhiskey, @twopoppies, @allwaswell16

[nephriteknight]

Thoughts on Daggerheart!!

I'll admit I haven't really been following it until today, but after watching the videos released today I got very excited and ended up building a character and reading a lot of the book, as I am wont to do (might post about them later lol).

Now, full disclosure, I wouldn't say I'm all that familiar with the TTRPG space outside of D&D, so take my opinions with a grain of salt. That said, I've played D&D, Wanderhome, Alice is Missing, and the fan-made Hollow Knight TTRPG, and I've watched some AP of Kids on Bikes, Call of Cthulhu, Monsterhearts, and Candela Obscura, which is a longer list than I was expecting. Huh. Anyways, my thoughts!

I really like the duality dice! It's such an interesting way to do mixed success that incorporates story/character into mechanics, which is great.

Related to that, I also like Hope as a fluid resource, and I think that Fear is a nice way to both prompt GM action and to just create a fun sense of dread as the GM takes more tokens

The lack of turn order/action economy is... cool, and a really interesting idea, but my thoughts on this are complicated. As we're seeing in the oneshot right now, it really helps to keep combat as part of the story and give the players and GM room for creativity. (For example, Bunnie describing a counterstrike as part of her dodge, and being able to take it as soon as the GM's turn is over, as well as the tag team feature, which is very cool.) That said, I think this mechanic might not work so well with less experienced or less confident players, who might have trouble taking the initiative (heh) to act in combat (I know I certainly would if I wasn't playing with close friends). That's not really a criticism though -- this is a collaborative storytelling game, and part of playing it is making big moves and taking turns guiding the story. If that's not for you, then you might prefer a different system, which is fine! I think this mechanic has the potential to be really, really dope, but I also think it's the bit that has the most potential to go poorly in my eyes.

The art, design, and general aesthetic feel of this game are so unbelievably up my alley. I love it. That's all.

I'm excited to see that they're working on mechanics for playing disabled characters, but since they aren't out yet I can't really comment. (I did notice that the character in the bard art is in a wheelchair, which is dope.) Also, as others have noted, Daggerheart uses "heritage" and "ancestry" rather than "race", which is a small but good choice.

Personally, I also really like the choice to move away from precise measurements of distance and gold. This one is very much a personal preference, and I know some people will rightfully disagree, but I like it! As a DM, trying to determine the appropriate costs and rewards for things has always been a headache, and this seems much easier to manage; measuring distances with convenient and tangible measurements like the short side of a playing card or the length of a piece of paper also feels much easier to use.

The downtime mechanics are great! Each of the activities you can take prompts you to describe how you heal yourself or another, destress, repair armor, or prepare yourself for what's ahead, which really encourages quieter character moments both introspectively and with others. I'm a big fan of this. This combining of role play and mechanics is also present in other features, such as one of the major level 1 healing abilities, which is more effective if you spend the time it takes to cast learning something new about the person you're healing or sharing something about yourself.

I didn't look at this too closely because I was just making a character for fun and don't have a party to play with, but as part of character creation you're given questions about your relationships to your party members to answer. Wanderhome also has these, and they were MASSIVELY successful in creating depth and meaningful connections between players -- after our table's session zero I was already so invested in all our characters, and when we actually played them they really came to life. I haven't looked to closely at Daggerhearts version of this, but I'm very excited to see them.

The experience mechanic seems really fun and creative, and I especially like the idea of using a phrase rather than something specific. That said, when I played the Hollow Knight TTRPG, which also lets players create their own skills, the open endedness of it was more confusing than inspiring, and there was a lot of potential for a usefulness disparity between players. I do think Daggerheart explains it better, though, and limiting the use of experience with a Hope cost helps to counteract any choices that might be too broad, so hopefully it will work better

I probably have more thoughts, but it getting late and I have a headache, so that's all I'm saying for now :D

Overall, Daggerheart has combined a lot of things I've liked in other games with promising mechanics I haven't seen before, and I'm very excited to try it out. I'm now realizing that I just made a list of things I like without any negative feedback, which isn't what I wanted to do, but I'm not really sure what to criticize without having played it myself.

I'm most curious to see how the non-initiative mechanic works; it has the potential to be a really excellent solve for a major problem in D&D (plenty of people have talked about how initiative limits teamwork, can be boring when its not your turn, etc, so I won't get into it here), but I don't think it's a solution that will work for everyone. Of course, games can't work for everyone, and shouldn't try to. It's working really well on CR's oneshot as I write this, but making choices and sharing spotlight in TTRPGs is literally their job, so I'm not surprised this works for them. I could see this going really well with some tables I've played with, and really poorly with others. I'm still really optimistic, though; it seems like the kind of thing that with the right table could be really excellent.

[whentommymetalfie]

Tagged by @bouncydragon. Thank you for giving me a chance to ramble!

20 questions for fan fiction writers

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

53

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

642 307 (!)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently only Peaky Blinders

4. Top five fics by kudos

Breathe again, Kiss with a fist, Family is family, Little talks, Shattered and hollow

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to always do that for my WIPs but sometimes I forget to when I get a comment on an older fic. But that doesn't mean I don't read and appreciate them!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I was about to say that I never write angsty endings, because I can't handle them, but then I remembered about whumptober where I dabbled in that, sort of. I think it's a tie between Aversion and Confinement, and even those have a glimpse of hope at the end because I'm just like that.

7. What is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh that's a tough one, since happy endings are my jam, so I've got plenty. But I think that To live a life, an installment in my first AU has a very happy ending, considering the angst that comes before.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I recall getting like... one really nasty comment once, years ago, but I've completely forgotten what it said, because I just deleted it and was sad about it for a few days and now it's gone from my mind, I just remember it happening because it's so rare.

And I've gotten a comment or two where a reader has disapproved of something in a fic, or where it's clear that they've interpreted something an entirely different way than I intended, and where they've chosen to express that in a not entirely nice way. I think when that's happened, I've left the comment, but haven't responded to it, because I just don't feel like going into discussions or spending my energy of that. But mostly all my readers are incredibly kind, which is a huge reason why I keep posting my work.

9. Do you write smut?

I have on occasion written a fic or two mostly focused on smut, upon request, and I incorporate sex-scenes into fics when I feel they serve a purpose.

10. Craziest crossover?

I've never written one, but I'm not opposed to them

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a few!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope

14. All time favorite ship?

Well got to be Tommy/Alfie right? Just look at all my... stuff.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have plenty of shorter unpublished wips where I've just wanted to 'try' an idea, or get something out of my head. Or be especially self indulgent. Those never get past the draft stage. But anything I truly want to finish and post, I usually do finish. Eventually.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I honestly think that one of my writing strengths is keeping at it, even when everything feels impossible, because without that stubbornness, many of my fics would've gotten finished. Cheesy as it may sound.

On a more technical note, I think -hope- that I'm good finding a good pace in my stories, at least my latest ones. And... describing emotions maybe.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The first thing that comes to mind, and that often feel the most limited by, is that English is my second language. That always adds a layer of insecurity. And I'm not great at writing action, or scenes with many characters (I always feel like I'm trying to juggle with way too many balls)

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I think it can work great when it serves a purpose, but with my lacking language skills I just incorporate into the text that a character isn't speaking English, rather than typing the dialogue out in the actual language.

19. First fandom you wrote in?

My first ever fanfic I posted was for True Blood. Ten years ago now, which feels crazy.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Tough one... If I'm only allowed finished fics, I'd have to say Breathe Again, because it's my first truly long, multi-chaptered project and I grew a lot as a writer -I think- while writing that. But I do want to give Home to you it's own shoutout (even if I have yet to finish that last chapter that's haunting me because I'm so afraid to mess it up) because it's so intrinsically connected to Breathe again.

tagging (with no pressure of course, and apologies if you've already been tagged) @abusivelittlebunny @100dabbo @andtherewerefireworks @elskiee

[avopumpkin]

@spookyaveragecatdoodlesenjoyer The beginning of your tags yelled "тобі пізда" so much at me, that I love it.

I want to say that don't worry because I'm extremely serious when it comes to Ukrainian and my general love for Ukraine. (I love every Slavic country but Ukraine is closer to me since I had Ukrainian friends.) I basically can start any time I want because I can read the alphabet, so this is not a problem for me at all. The only thing that stays between me and my book for Ukrainian is the lack of CD to learn the pronunciation (but I'll find a way) and a spider that decided to live on this book. (I'm scared, send help pls.)

I also really love "Щедрик" and at some point of my life I had the lyrics memorised. Of course my pronunciation probably sucked a lot, but this is still one of my favourite Ukrainian songs.

There is this one Polish-Lemkos-Ukrainian band that also made their version of Щедрик, so I'll just put it here for anyone who wants to check it out.

But nothing will beat Ukrainian choirs. There's no words that will describe my love for this song.

I used to attend extramural school with two Ukrainian ladies and one of them said зупинка once. ONCE. And every time I go to the bus stop, I keep saying this in my head because I remembered it. 😭 Not mentioning the fact that one time, when I visited Slovakia, I accidentally told the cashier дякую instead of ďakujem.

So yeah. I know no one asked, but I still had to make this post because I'm so in love with Ukrainian. This language sounds really beautiful and it wouldn't be a problem for me to come back and learn it for a while.

For the last tag: I was able to translate by myself "Kanna Kizuchi will ××× the world in three seconds", and trying to look at the context, then does it mean "Kanna Kizuchi will rule the world in three seconds "? 👀

[7grandmel]

Blog Update - 31/10/2024

TL;DR: The pinned post is finally updated with more tags! The ask box is also now open to sending general AMA-like questions to me as the writer of the blog.

Hey! Remember back in June when I returned to the blog and said I would be making more different kinds of posts on here? Hopefully you'll have already seen and enjoyed a few of these, like the Character Archives and Trivia-Explainer 7000 ones. Well, I also promised back then that I'd be attaching these to the pinned post to the blog...and then promptly forgot. Sorry!

Well, that's remedied now - I'm sure there are more kinds of posts I would like to add to the blog, but for now the main kinds you've seen since in June are now all described and linked to on the main post.

As part of that, I would also like to add that the tag "SiIvaGunner Blog MOJO!" — which was originally used to tag the Blog Navigation Tutorial — is now going to also be used to tag all Ask-Box questions sent the blog's way! I'm completely open to just chatting with people over discord, but if there's any particular question you have regarding the blog, my investment in SiIvaGunner, my relation to the team, or anything else that you may come up with in reading the blog, feel free to send it in! The first of these responses will be coming later today.

I'd like to also apologize for the somewhat erratic post schedule and lack of more supplemental posts recently. It's been a stressful few weeks and I'm splitting my attention across a fair few things; but I'm always sitting around wanting to write even more for the blog than I already do!!

[kanonavi]

2023 XVX Fic Recs!

Hi, all, I hope you're having a lovely holiday season! Around the beginning of this year, just for fun, I decided that I would record all of the fanfics that I read this year, and during the summer I had the idea to take some of the best fics I read in 2023 and compile them at the end of the year into a rec list. Since xiaoven was the ship I read the most fics for, I've decided to just do a rec list for them this year, but maybe in the future I'll branch out more!

As with any rec list, please take note of the ratings and the tags for any given fic! Just because something suited my taste doesn't necessarily mean it will suit yours, please take care of yourselves. Now, here are 10* fics that I read this year and think that other xiaoven fans should read too! (Also uh. Sorry for how much I'm about to talk in the reviews lol)

*Keep an eye out for a few bonuses that I've peppered in ;)

~

We Creatures of Fate, by Wackachu

[Ongoing, Teen, 57.9k, 7/?]

Xiao is a weapon forged from red, carved from the hearts of weeping souls and etched into the memories of grieving mothers. While free under the care of a new God, he finds salvation, yet feels as trapped as the day the chains first clamped down onto his wrists. Venti is a God, one born from the wishes of others as opposed to his own. After losing his loved ones, he can't help but feel lost, high on a throne all alone, built upon all things he despised. The two find each other by chance, yet the rest can only be described as fate. ---------- A telling of Xiao and Venti's story with a hefty load of lore

If there is any fic on this list that should be read, it’s this one. I am an absolute sucker for speculative lore when it comes to Genshin, and the picture that the author has assembled of Archon War-era Liyue is absolutely masterful. Within the threads of that beautiful tapestry, they’ve also been interweaving Xiao and Venti’s developing relationship all the way from when they were a newly-freed Adeptus and young Archon respectively. They have a long journey ahead of them (the burn is slow, folks), and I think that said journey is an absolute must-read.

~

Extra Recs: Wackachu has also written two other xiaoven one-shots, which I highly recommend for more bite-size pieces of their excellent taste!

~

the holy light of your single lantern, by boxofcrows (@miralia)

[Complete, Teen, 34k, 6/6]

“Long divided by river and sea, For years we two have failed to meet – And suddenly to find you seems like a dream.” Thousands of years of silence, broken by a single visit.

This fic wrapped up recently, so it’s a great time to go and show it some love! One of my biggest sorrows is that xiaoven is rather lacking in really good canon universe fics compared to other Genshin ships, but this fic managed to fill that hole in my heart. The author does a fantastic job of capturing the way that Xiao and Venti’s conflicting natures and ideals can cause friction between them, all while maintaining the undeniable magnetism that they feel towards each other.

~

Relax In My Arms, by alphaparrot (@aparrotandaqrow)

[Queerplatonic XiaoVen, General Audiences, 5.9k, One-Shot]

As Lantern Rite arrives, Xiao is found exhausted and spent by Qiqi of Bubu Pharmacy, who brings him back to Liyue. Upon awaking, Xiao quickly makes his exit and returns to Wangshu Inn, where Venti is waiting for him on the balcony. Xiao isn't in the mood to party, but maybe a chill hang-out would help him relax. Venti knows just the thing to help Xiao relax and recuperate, and as they both get comfortable, they begin to reflect....

Author's Original Promo Post!

Queerplatonic xiaoven was a flavor of their relationship that I hadn’t tried before this fic, but it really sold me on it. What I’ve always loved about xiaoven so much is the inherent intimacy that can be achieved between them once all of the emotional barriers between them have been stripped away, and I think that those ideas are explored very beautifully here. Xiao and Venti trust and love each other so deeply here, and it shows in every word and touch that they exchange, and I think that it’s a must-read for anyone whose brain chemistry was altered by the ‘Endless Suffering’ trailer (so basically, every xiaoven fan ever lol)

~

i can not save us (but you can), by anemowisp (@sillygirl19)

[Teen, 19.4k, One-Shot]

two boys figure out what the hell they're doing

In the midst of one of the most turbulent times in my life, one particular line in this fic really hit me where it hurt, and it’s one of the few times that I’ve actually cried reading a fic. In my xiaoven-enjoying friend groups, we sometimes call Xiao and Venti old men with teenager problems, which means they don't always work when turned into actual teenagers/young adults with those problems, but I think this fic pulls it off really well.

~

what queer sins stain thy soul, by Anonymous (@sincerelyandyourstruly)

[Mature, 3.2k, One-Shot]

In which Xiao, long-established asexual, learns that identity is not as stable as he’d like to believe.

As an ace person myself, I feel it’s so rare to find a really good asexual character study where the asexuality is actually one of the central focuses of the intimacy taking place (if anyone has any recs of that variety please hit me up!), but I think that this fic pulled that off really well. It also delves into that particular vibe of when one’s identity might be shifting, which can be a really scary thing, but Xiao in this fic is lucky enough to have someone he loves and trusts to support him as he explores his new desires, which was really comforting to read about.

~

Where Words Fail, by kavvueh (@kavvueh)

[Complete, Teen, 34k, 12/12]

Author's Original Promo Post!

"You're Barbatos," Xiao repeats breathlessly. The young man in front of him nods. "Yep." "But..." Xiao cuts himself off and tries again. "You're the God of songs and poetry." The Anemo Archon nods his head sagely. "More or less." Xiao fixes Lord Barbatos with the most incredulous look he can manage. "... You're failing Music Theory."

As someone who was also suffering through music theory alongside Venti as this fic was publishing, all of the attention to detail in the musical aspects of this fic absolutely tickled me. But all of that was merely a foundation for a lovely story about a pair of souls finding their partner in a new life. The musical connection that xiaoven have is one of the essential tenets of the ship, and this fic did a beautiful job of using that idea to its fullest potential.

~

Extra Rec: kavvueh has recently started publishing a new xiaoven fic with a similar setting, so if you enjoy these kinds of fluffy modern aus, give that one some love as well!

~

The Stars in Teyvat are a Lie, and So Is the Sky, by yueyunn

[Complete, Teen, 148.2k, 13/13]

There were several issues that Xiao immediately took with Ningguang’s proposition for him to produce for Barbatos: his other artists had upcoming comebacks and year-end stages that required his attention, he was overworked enough as it were already, and Ningguang was not exactly someone he was looking to do any favors for. While her persistence to overlook all this was one matter, nothing aggravated him more than Ningguang completely ignoring the obstinate fact that he. doesn’t. work. with. idols.

Perhaps I was a bit like Xiao in this fic at the beginning of this year, because I approached the two idol/celebrity aus on my to-read list with open skepticism, and then ended up absolutely adoring them both. What I loved about this fic the most was how much care was put into actually translating the character’s canon backstories into the modern idol au setting. The author clearly has so much love for the characters, and it really shows through in the way that everyone has their chance to shine, even the side characters. This fic also updated recently with 15k words of extras, so it’s a great time to visit or revisit it!

~

Extra Rec: gold rush, by underthethousandstars was the other idol/celebrity au I read this year and really enjoyed, so if those aus are up your alley, I highly recommend it!

~

low-key (no pressure!), by windrise (Twitter - @/wyndrise)

[Ongoing, Teen, 75.7k, 11/?]

Following his friend’s questionable suggestion, Venti partners with Xiao—the resident grouch of his early morning stats class—for his music project.

If you want to sit down with a fic that will give you the warm fuzzies, this is definitely the one to pick. As alluded to previously, I don’t really go for modern aus as much, but this fic absolutely blew my expectations out of the water. I was getting the ‘squee’s as I read about Xiao and Venti growing closer over the course of working on Venti’s project, as the author has an excellent grasp of the deep inner kindness that the two of them hold, and how that kindness would naturally draw them together.

~

bouquet of lies, by underthethousandstars (Twitter - @/zhongliorder)

[Complete, Mature, 85.9k, 12/12]

In a world where humans can use elemental magic, Xiao uses his to move through the shadows becoming Liyue’s phantom killer. Known to the public as Alatus, he is their most notorious assassin. One day Xiao secures his biggest job yet: kill the Crown Prince of Mondstadt, Venti. Harbouring no love towards any royal family Xiao pulls off his mission with success. Or so he thought.

This fic falls solidly on the darker end of xiaoven stories (the ‘Dark Fantasy’ tag is there for a reason!), so if you happen to like your ships with an enemies to lovers flare, this is definitely one to check out. This is one of those stories that really managed to pull me into the world of assassins and political intrigue that the author has crafted, and on top of that it puts a fun spin on exploring Xiao and Venti’s individual guilt and the way that it affects them as people. The first fic in the series is finished, but the second installment is currently in progress, so I highly recommend checking that one out as well!

~

every morning in the dark, by magicites (Twitter - @/bribird_wings)

[Complete, Mature, 77.1k, 34/34]

Stuck in a time loop where he succumbs to his karmic debt, Xiao struggles to see the point in moving forward. Venti struggles to save him.

While by far the heaviest of any of the fics I’ve recommended so far (mind the warnings and the tags!!), if you can stomach the subject matter, this is one of those fics that I would refer to as XiaoVen Essential Reading. The author has a pitch-perfect grasp of what makes xiaoven, qualities which are pushed to their limits as the two of them struggle to break free of the loop that they’re trapped in. I took severe emotional damage while reading it, but my only regret was that I hadn’t read it sooner. It’s definitely A Lot, but it’s so, so worth it for anyone who really enjoys this pairing.

~

And with that, we reach the end of the list! If you've made it this far, thank you so much, and I hope I've given you some fics to add to your to-read list for the coming year! I tried to incorporate some newer fics with some classics, so hopefully there's something here you haven't heard from before.

With that said, I'll hopefully be back next year with some more xiaoven or other Genshin fic recs! <3

[ultrakatua]

Writer interview game

Tagged by @reallyhatethiswebsite who is, indeed, good at describing dicks.

Tagging @queenlua because I'm nosy <3

When did you start writing?

Since forever. I still have old stories I wrote when I was like 7.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

A solid 90% of what I read is sci-fi. I don't have the brain required to write good sci-fi. Or maybe I just lack the confidence, I don't know. But yeah. It's intimidating.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

No. I'm pretty neutral about myself but like... If I'm not me, what's the point you know? I really don't admire people in general.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Most of it I do on my laptop. I'll sometimes write on my phone. Eveything is in my cloud. I'm employed and totally a boomer about the softwares I use, so I actually pay for Office and for a neat grammatical tool that doubles as a dictionary because English Is Hell.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I Don't Control The Hyperfixation.

(I'm just very weird about very specific things until they consume me)

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

I like stories about people utterly destroyed by life and who are forced to confront all that stuff. But they can't be fixed. I love sad/bittersweet endings that have you look at the last words of the story and dissociate on the spot.

I've never written a happy end in my entire life and probably never will.

I'm a depressed bitch, so nothing really shocking there.

What is your reason for writing?

The whimsy answer: My internal dialog is ON h24. Putting it on paper feels good.

The rational answer: I used to have a blog dedicated to literary analysis and meta posting (something I'm actually totally ok to say I'm very good at), but with the death of blogging and the current state of fandom discourse, I stopped writing these things. Instead I shit all my headcanons into my fics.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

When people are as pretentious with my writing as I am with it in my head. I don't have to align with their understanding of the text, but I like to keep things ambiguous for that reason. I'm totally down for people overanalysing everything, because I do it as well. Keep in mind I'm the kind of weirdo who will spend 15 minutes thinking about what term I must use for "cock" to obtain the best effect.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Apparently people perceive me as cold and intimidating which is????

Like. I'm just some gal.

I hope people know that I always finish the stories I start, though. I want to be trustworthy in a sense.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I have no fucking idea. I'm a very analytical person, but it doesn't really translate to anything in creative writing... So going by what people have said of me: I'm good with characterization apparently.

How do you feel about your own writing?

When I write in French, it's all over for you (I literally never will).

But more seriously, English is challenging but I'm getting better at it. It's still a long way to go, though. I like to challenge myself to get better.

[owlsinathens]

I'm sorry I really really don't want to harsh your writing groove, and your little snowstorm fic had some neat ideas. But it wasn't tagged game of thrones, and Jon Snow with curly black hair, pouty lips, and being called as pretty as a girl is only in the show. Book!Jon has straight brown hair and a long thin face and is never called pretty. It was a good GOT fic though!

Why hello, "anon"!

You know, I haven't given it too much thought which canon this ficlet is supposed to be, and actually forgot the GoT tag. It's added now, I hope this makes you happy.

But there are a few things I'm curious about.

- Can you tell me where in ASoIaF Jon's hair texture is described? Does it anywhere say explicitly that he has straight hair? I searched, but couldn't find a line on that.

- Please also tell me where in the books Jon's mouth is described in such detail that you, the all-knowing "anon", can deduce that he isn't able to pout.

- Your lack of reading comprehension is a tad concerning, considering you're all on your own in the big interweb - where in my little ficlet did I describe Jon as pretty as a girl? Or pretty, period? The word doesn't show up at all.

- Also, where did I say Jon has other than brown hair? I said dark, can't brown hair be described as dark? Are we gatekeeping dark hair now? Or is it just that you again present your headcanons as canon and everyone needs to adher to your version of it?

All of that I would love an explanation for, but since you are too cowardly to tell your name, I guess that's a futile wish.

But, I want to thank you for reminding me why I didn't write for months in the first place - because of toxic, mean-spirited, gate-keeping people like you. Because of the likes of you this fandom is in its death throes. Dunno what you get out of it, honestly.

Lastly, I know you're not supposed to show when some nasty little anon has hurt your feelings, but seeing as this whole thing is going nowhere anymore, I don't see why not. So, congratulations, "anon", you managed to deeply hurt me, and kill in its bud the first blossoming of creativity I've felt in a long time. I hope it gives you satisfaction, since you must be a deeply unhappy individual.

[boyswillbedogz]

Hi we're sorry if this is so random and like out of place I am trying to keep myself calm because I am like at my wit's end and I think my only tether to being calm is that Pearl is next to me

I wanted to ask if like. What Pearl is doing could be considered co-fronting? She's just. Always next to me. Over my shoulder clinging to me what have you. It feels different than let's say Ula/Garnet or anyone else lurking in the front room because I am keenly aware of ze's presence from the moment I wake up.

The thing is we were told this is co-conscious which literally makes no sense because that's just, literally not possible we are mono. And we're legit stressed out by this because Pearl is technically my fronting buddy and we both believe she is wholeheartedly in co-front but being told otherwise made me way too angry.

I'm so sorry if this is random but we thought about asking y'all since you're also a median system

(Sorry for lack of tone tags I rlly don't know the tone of this)

- Yellow Pearl

disclaimer, whether we're entirely a median is questionable because some of us are more connected than others. that being said, i myself can largely cross all memory and conciousness barriers so i kind of get the experience. also the exact definition of cocon and cofront are kinda blurry so i think its up to interp.

if pearl's kind of watching over your shoulder without controlling the body and you can communicate with each other with semi-clear distinction of whose thoughts are whose

(ie; autopsy is kinda watching me type this, and he knows whats going on and will probably remeber this. i can tell that Autopsy specifically wants oreos, even though i dont particularly crave them)

then yeah, i'd consider that being in cofront, and what youre describing sounds like that. no worried ab the lack of tone tags, i tend to take things neutrally if they dont have any ttgs. hoped his helped and you guys feel better :) /gen

-Unname/Chimera (ft Autopsy)