#sold me on it. I love these stupid teens so much

[whoblewboobear]

i saw someone call figs wanda childa bit troubling and dishonest bc shes messing with ruben and manipulating him and they deleted the post but like girl. where is your whimsy.

opinion time but emily is constantly one of the funniest people on set. some people just cant handle a girl getting a bit silly with it

The Wanda Childa bit is hands down one of my favorite Fig bits this season and as long as she’s not kissing adult doctors I’m so down for her playing with Rueben’s head. He openly has it out for Fig and would probably do the same thing tbh. She’s like 16 and fucking with this emo dork that says he’s getting mobbed for autographs is really funny and people forget that this is mostly a comedy show

Emily makes me die laughing like the “keep my name out of your mouth” thing had me screaming!! 👏 Every season fans just pick a woman at the table to scrutinize and hate and this season it’s Emily again. It’s so annoying bc she’s such a great player and so fcking hilarious and absolutely nothing has changed in the way that she plays fig, the goofs have just gotten bigger.

The fandom really is just a completely different landscape from what it was when FH first aired, I’m glad it grew but I miss when everyone was just vibing and enjoying the show. Not everyone will think EVERY joke is funny but taking it seriously like Rueben is a real person that will get hurt by being deceived is bonkers when you can see just how delighted Brennan and Emily are to play with the Wanda/Rueben dynamic

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?” 

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike. 

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?” 

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully. 

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“ 

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.” 

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,” 

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision. 

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,” 

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“ 

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens. 

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“ 

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?” 

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble. 

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here. 

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,” 

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head. 

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone. 

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours. 

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?” 

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal. 

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks. 

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was. 

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?” He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?” 

“Of course,” 

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone. 

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened. 

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,” 

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend. 

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin,  “is something interesting about my hands?” 

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,” 

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,” 

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?” 

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?” 

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away? 

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?” 

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids. 

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?” 

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.  

Fuck. 

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,” 

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,” 

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew. 

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek. 

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“ 

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other. 

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“ 

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?” 

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp. 

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,” 

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?” 

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,” 

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either. 

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense. 

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,” 

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,” 

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“ 

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body. 

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod. 

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“ 

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash. 

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more. 

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji: 

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more? 

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so. 

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him. 

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“ 

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“ 

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“ 

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“ 

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?” 

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“ 

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?” 

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?” 

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,” 

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs. 

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?” 

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned. 

God, what the fuck. 

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,” 

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.  

“We don’t have to—“ 

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but— 

“Sounds perfect,”  he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay. 

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,” 

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes,  holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms. 

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,” 

“For?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“ 

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face. 

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips. 

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“ 

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?” 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“ 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,” 

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you. 

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.  

“I didn’t think I was either.” 

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,” 

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him. 

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!” 

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“ 

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?” 

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie. 

But you can’t. 

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“ 

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.” 

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse. 

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good. 

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you. 

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips. 

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute. 

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“ 

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,” 

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed. 

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap. 

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty. 

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling. 

It was his favorite thing. 

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“ 

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“ 

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in. 

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?” 

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other. 

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties. 

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth. 

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,” 

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away. 

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy. 

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it. 

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,” 

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side. 

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face. 

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head. 

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“ 

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep. 

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection. 

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.  

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him. 

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same. 

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop. 

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back. 

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did. 

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now. 

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair. 

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?” 

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?” 

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside. 

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket. 

It had been like this since that night. 

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.  

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back. 

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it. 

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him— 

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship. 

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that. 

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were? 

And now you know what you wanted to do. 

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out. 

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips. 

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?” 

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth. 

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl. 

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs. 

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears. 

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow. 

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“ 

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips. 

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words? 

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to. 

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much. 

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket. 

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his. 

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“ 

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“ 

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike. 

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,” 

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“ 

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later. 

How long has it been? 

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place. 

Great. 

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him. 

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him. 

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this. 

But you weren’t made to let this break apart. 

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped. 

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?” 

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about. 

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember. 

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him. 

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,” 

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“ 

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip. 

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours. 

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?” 

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“ 

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,” 

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“ 

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“ 

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,” 

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“ 

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach. 

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“ 

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,” 

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart. 

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself. 

“I didn’t want to bother you—“ 

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say? 

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone. 

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you. 

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?” 

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence. 

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you,  “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days. 

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.  

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt. 

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new. 

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking. 

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side. 

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that. 

You were in love. 

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on. 

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself. 

And he deserved more than that. 

He deserved more than you. 

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that. 

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home. 

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks. 

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall? 

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his. 

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“ 

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion. 

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same. 

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“ 

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him? 

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“ 

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street. 

What just happened? 

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it. 

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay. 

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again. 

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks. 

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,” 

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“ 

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher. 

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.” 

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place. 

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands. 

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his. 

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his. 

And maybe things could get back to normal. 

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,” 

And you smile, “I love you too—“ 

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression. 

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“ 

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“ 

“Yuji—“ 

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name. 

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“ 

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off. 

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“ 

Fuck it. 

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji. 

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,” 

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?” 

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“ 

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“ 

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.” 

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little. 

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life. 

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.” 

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“ 

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends. 

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“ 

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“ 

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed. 

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?” 

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,” 

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,” 

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again. 

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan. 

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,” 

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?” 

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head. 

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you. 

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath. 

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays. 

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.” 

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,” 

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again. 

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much. 

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release. 

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin. 

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss. 

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,” 

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“ 

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back. 

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your 

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“ 

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp. 

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides. 

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling. 

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again. 

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“ 

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,” 

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit. 

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“ 

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words. 

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“ 

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,” 

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips. 

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you. 

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“ 

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“ 

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead. 

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,” 

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss. 

“And you always will.” 

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her. 

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,” 

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“ 

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“ 

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.” 

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,” 

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.” 

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

[writteninlunarlight-years]

I have an idea if you accept💕

What would the romantic and scary version be like? From the nun! Alastor with reader, where the 7 years that Alastor disappeared in hell, for some reason he was summoned by someone (probably teenagers doing stupid things) and because of that, he was trapped in the radio, of course he took advantage of this to haunt everyone who bought the radio ... Until the Human! reader bought the radio, but what Alastor didn't expect was that he fell in love with her after a while... Just like in the horror film Valak, apart from the romance part, it's obvious! (film: The Conjuring).

Note feel comfortable could be a yandere alastor? If it can't be normal....

Wicked Woman~

(I love this concept, especially if, later on down the line, the reader dies and remembers her life with Al. Please let me know if you would like this as a part two. I followed closely to what you asked but put my spin on it. Hope you all enjoy.)

TW: Dark themes, Murder, Death, Yandere Type Tendencies, Stockholm Syndrome

Alastors POV

Hell was everything I could ask for it to be. After my untimely death by those damn dogs, I vowed to continue my pursuit of power and strength. I entered hell unfathomably powerful, and I will take hell over with this power. I was feared and revered even by the highest class of demons that walked among us. Thousands of poor, unfortunate souls rested in my claws. Even in this prey-like form, I was purely a predator. 

How my name ended up in those damn demon books up top was beyond me; it probably had something to do with the one I sold my soul to for even more power—a damn trick to make me suffer for having power that rivaled those in all of hell. Yet, no one was brave enough to fully summon me or try and control me. I was elusive and would scare anyone who wanted to open ties with me on the mortal plane. However, that was my biggest downfall. In hopes of showing off my immense power and strength, I allowed those up top to know more about me in the end.

Ironically, children sought to summon me more than any damn adult; hell, I even thought cult leaders would call upon me more than this. That fateful day, though, when I was trapped in the radio, was due to some pesky teenage punks looking to harm some poor young girl. I hate people like that, those who prey on the weak, just like my father. 

It was quick work killing those teens off; the world was probably thousands of times better off without them. Yet every time I tried to go back to hell, I was stuck, some weird plan of reality; I was there on earth, but I wasn't. This had to be another twisted game my master was putting me through. It was another joke to show how I was still just below them on the food chain of power.

I knew showing my demon form would be unwise in this place; enough people tried calling on me as it was. While deciding my next plan of action, I heard the sirens coming close to the location of the slaughter. Sighing, I absorbed myself in the radio, hidden from sight and out of mind. Watching the clean-up was entertaining, but scaring the wits out of the police and cleaning crew was far superior. 

Once all was said and done, I learned this cabin was in the middle of the woods, once owned by one of those teens' parents. After the gruesome murders and odd occurrences around the house done by yours truly, they sold it off. This left a gorgeous cabin in the woods empty for me to enjoy. Being so secluded, I could come and go from the radio as I pleased; no need to fear that someone would see me.

This cabin reminded me so much of my home in the bayou with my mother. The woods resembled that of where my father took me hunting, resembled where I ended his life, and countless other horrible humans that got in my way. This place felt like I was living my human life once more with less killing that is.

For a year, I had tried going back to hell countless times. However, I realized till my master needed me, I was trapped here on the mortal plane. Accepting my fate, I decided to give up on hell and take this nice vacation. Who knows, maybe with my time away, I could have new ladders to climb upon my return. Plus, no one would dare to buy a cabin in the middle of the woods after a gruesome murder, where it was deemed haunted. 

I was dead wrong, however, when I heard the noises outside the cabin door. It finally happened on the day that marked the first year of my purgatory on the human plane. Someone had bought the cabin in the woods. I was shocked and almost pleased with this person's brazen stupidity. It's probably another punk kid wanting to do rituals or someone running away from their misdeeds. 

Yet the biggest surprise was the young woman who entered the house with the first set of boxes. She was lovely, kind, and vibrant. She wore a large black hat even though the skies were cloudy gray. Her voice sounded like bells from a chapel, and her smile radiated the sun's light. If my undead heart could beat, it would be beating faster. 

I swore off love at a young age, only courting women when it allowed me closer to targets that I needed to kill. Once in hell, I just killed to kill, no need for love or emotions. Yet this woman lit something within me that was to be feared and hated. 

As the days passed, I watched her unpack her boxes. I learned she was a Wiccan, finding joy in the dark and light of all things. I knew she knew I was there. She could feel me lurking in the shadows and hovering around. No matter how often she saged the house, I stayed, an entity far surpassing her mortal purities and spirituality. However, I would hand it to her; her spiritual prowess was strong.

I tried relentlessly to scare her off; I had a rule about killing women: unless they were evil, I would never lay a hand on them. So, all I had going for me was scare tactics and horror. Convincing her, I would eventually kill her. A few cuts and bruises here or there from a broken floorboard or a throwing knife. She never budged, though, a smile on her face as she said a prayer and went on with her day like I hadn’t just hung knives above her head. 

Months had passed since she joined me in this cabin; she cut firewood early in the morning, would come home, shower, cook food, go out to the town an hour away, and then come home and relax or pray to her deities. She did not care about my existence; the more I became attached to her, the more she didn’t care or fear. She took to calling me Shadowy, a stupid name but chosen purely due to me refusing to show her my proper form. I lurked in the shadows, only allowing that to be seen. Sure beat her first name for me, Radioy; humans suck at naming things.

Sitting at two years trapped in the mortal realm with a woman I was growing fond of wasn’t my ideal step in the process of unlimited power. However, I was more content trapped here in this cabin as long as it was with her and her alone. She would bring men over, enjoy their company, and send them on their way. They never made it far, though, having accidents as they returned to their place. Even when she left the house for the night to see them, I knew exactly who they were. 

By year three, she had stopped dating, growing frustrated with my senseless killings. The police had shown up at our door countless times to question her involvement, only for them to fade from existence as well. She stopped going outside much, only cutting firewood and grocery shopping occasionally. As much as it pained me to see her light diminishing, it also fueled a sick, sadistic part of me. 

I enjoyed watching her more; now that I didn’t have to worry about others popping up, I began showing her my proper form. A slight sense of pride swelled in me as she became pleased to witness my deer-like looks. Though I hated my looks, how she fawned over me, almost forgetting all my misdeeds towards her, was pleasing. I allowed myself to indulge in daily life with her, I stopped trying to scare her or kill her, and we fell into a semblance of domestic life. 

Once year four came around, she was tied to the house after interacting with a hunter in the woods. I would go out and kill her meat and anyone on our land. I would bring her wood and sustenance with my face covered in the blood of those who dared to try me. Eventually, she, too, became okay with this method of mine, and I was thrilled. I had my perfect human right here just for me. 

I taught her how to dance and cook meals my mother once taught me, showing her the joys of good Southern cooking. Though I could not process the cooked meals I showed her, I knew feeding her and making her strong was all that mattered. I gained plenty of sustenance by killing off anyone who came close to her. I gained sustenance by watching her fall more into me and my spell as I fell more into hers.

 Year five came around, and I had her clung to me; she was mine and mine alone. She gave up on her deities and only worshiped me. Fueling the God complex I already had, I swore to make her mine; no other man or demon could take her. She was powerful spiritually, and she would be vital in her death when she joined me. 

I began teaching her how to kill and maim those who entered our woods. I taught her how to murder and never be caught. In the beginning, she was horrible. I had to end a lot of police lives, yet she grew stronger as time went on. Soon, she was as notorious of a serial killer as I once was. The woods covered our tracks, ensuring we were hidden from the eyes of others. Oh, how I wished when I was alive that a spirit would assist me like this in my kills. 

In year six, I knew she was as strong as I was when I fell to hell. I made her so perfect, molding her to my ways. I knew when her time came in death, she would find me; my Doe. She used her spiritual powers to assist me in breaking my binds to my master. Though nothing ever seemed to work, she was persistent. I was proud; I understood why pride would be such a sin. Watching her work her powers and drain herself for me was delicious. 

This year was the year I finally claimed her. I took her and made her mine, not just in thought or word but in mind and body. I would not allow anyone to ruin my hard work. She was perfect, and she deserved me as I did her. We were bonded in a way that transcended soul bonds or mortal relationships. We were unstoppable.

This knowledge alone is why, come year seven, I felt the shift in my presence. I knew it was coming to my departure from her world. My master was calling me back to hell, threatened by the perfect morsel that I had created. My master knew I would be unstoppable if I followed my plan to convince her to die, to join me in the afterlife as one. This alone is what sent me back to hell, the fear I struck in the one I had controlling me.

I knew when it was my time to perish, she would join me here, and we would rule hell side by side. No one would stop that—no contract, no princess, and certainly no king. Though I enjoy the hotel and the people I have met there, I know my power only has room to grow. My doe would make quick work of anyone who dared to take her from me. She was left on earth to grow stronger and stronger to benefit me in her death. To help me rule all of hell. I would be unstoppable and grow immensely in all dimensions and planes of reality.

Oh, and my power will grow; it will grow when my wicked woman joins us in this fiery blaze…

[hollowed-theory-hall]

so what made you realize that harry potter was your ultimate favorite character and why ? what is it about him that appealed to you coz if you're aware, he is generally considered boring for a main character in the hp fandom. i used to be one of those haters, but your blog and many others helped me see him through a different lense so thanks for that lol

Thank you! I'm glad you love my boy too now. He deserves it. I wrote my general thoughts about him here, and wrote so much about him in this blog in general, but what made him my favorite is, like, a combination of circumstances.

You see, I used to be one of the people who thought Harry was boring and dumb. I read the books when I was 12, then watched the movies, and for years, I thought Harry was boring and that the HP series as a whole was overrated. I had a good friend in high school who was obsessed with Harry Potter, so I had to be cool and contrary and think the whole thing and the main character was stupid and boring. Daniel Radcliffe's portrayal of Harry didn't help as it didn't have most of the character and charm of Harry in the books and came off as super awkward and boring (to me, at least, but I think this is a pretty common opinion).

Then, a few years ago, I decided to reread the books. And when I did, I fell in love with them in a way I just didn't when I was 12. Harry became my favorite character just because I loved the guy in the books. I read and felt so guilty I ever thought he was boring. He didn't deserve that shit from me because he's an amazing narrator. He's clever and observant, and the way he reacted emotionally to things really sold me. Like, I used to have anger issues as a child and teen (usually when I tell people that now they're really surprised cause I don't look it), and Harry's anger super resonated with me. His anger, sass, and sheer determination are what I loved most about him. He's a tenacious guy who suffered so much and deserves the world. He's an amazing protagonist who manages to be everything he needs to be and more. He's brave, loyal, and compassionate, while also being cunning, angry, and occasionally ruthless and I love his merge of characteristics (as someone between Slytherin and Gryffindor, myself, I relate). And somehow (I blame the movies), he is underrated in the fandom that's named after him.

Also, I was, like, 20 by that point, so I cared much less about being edgy and cool and not liking a popular thing for the sake of not liking a popular thing.

[jacqcrisis]

I just remembered the core memory of when I was in high school and Twilight was in its heyday which pissed me VERY MUCH OFF as someone who read it when the first book came out on a rec from a friend who was so offbase with that because fuck me I hated that book at 14 and even more so when it got popular two years later-

ANYWAYS, Twilight is big and popular, and I'm in Barnes and Noble glaring at the stand with all the Twilight-like books cause I do love vampires but there's nothing for queer little ole me. 'Interview With the Vampire is my life' teen Jacq was suffering so bad. So I pop over the manga section, looking for possible shonen-ai/yaoi (which was rarely labeled as such so it was like looking for a needle in a haystack) when I stumble upon this:

Oh, I say to myself. Interesting. I flip it over to the back and read:

"Charlie, a cyborg/vampire who does the Vatican's dirty work-"

SOLD. I read no more. I don't need to read anymore, as nothing could prepare me for what I found inside.

I'm shaking as I go to the front and buy it immediately, so excited to read something that sounds so truly up my alley. I go home and consume some of the horniest, kinkiest vampire non-sex I had yet seen in my brief time on this earth between the aforementioned Charlie and the guy on the cover who is a fuck boy and the best boy mixed in with a pretty good story and romance. This series consumed me for the rest of my high school life as I was constantly on the lookout for new volumes. Even to this day, this is genuinely my favorite manga series, and it has a very cute happy ending and, as a shock to no one, informs a lot of my stupid writing trope habits.

This is a recommendation to go read Vassalord if you like vampires, cyborgs, horny blasphemy, pining, getting stabbed sexily, and one dude trying really hard not to fuck the other dude who's trying really hard to get the dude to fuck him while they fight crime and other vampires. It's great.

[hp-fanfic-archive]

Summer Fic Reading Challenge Bingo [1/?]

Bingo Number 1 on my summer reading challenge card from @ficreadingchallenge. These are all works that I've read and commented on since getting my card. I used to get really competitive over finishing my summer reading challenge every summer at the library so this is really fun :)

Canon Compliant: This Word Lies at the Bottom of a Lake by berhanes [Remus/Sirius, T, 7k]

Briefly he'd considered going to visit Remus, but Sirius has too many stacked up feelings about him to add any more, and he doesn't trust himself not to ruin their carefully patched situation in the wake of the incident – it's only been a year, after all, and there's no better way to shatter a barely recovered friendship than by doing something stupid like throwing out a declaration of love in the middle of explaining the myriad ways in which your family is deranged and terrible. So instead Sirius had hailed the Knight Bus and requested Bowness-on-Windermere.

No Powers AU: the horoscope by lirians [James/Lily, T, 14k]

James stops momentarily to give way to a bunch of rambunctious teenagers on the pavement before he regains his step. Lily has come to a halt a bit further, waiting on him. “Horoscopes?” he asks as they move onwards. He’s relieved that any awkwardness between them is apparently gone. “How so?” “Marly sent me mine this week because it said I would meet someone from the past again,” she explains. “I’m still not sold on the idea of it, but isn’t this weird?”

Free Space: don’t want to miss our little talks by dukeaubergine [Severus & Lily, T, 1k]

Lily breaks the news of her pregnancy to her best friend.

Work In Progress: Evernight by LilRinnieB [Harry/Severus, E, 331k]

It's Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts and the new strategy in the war against Voldemort is "Fight darkness with darkness." Harry goes through a series of changes that has him questioning everything he thought he ever knew about magic, darkness, destiny … and a certain snarky Potions professor. (I've rec'd this before but it just updated so...)

Sports AU: Learning How To Fall Properly by FivePips [Remus/Sirius, M, 60k]

Remus Lupin meets 2/3 of the Marauders while getting harassed by a few homophobes. He meets the third at the skatepark and soon falls into this group of friends, who are so much more than just the delinquents the residents of their town think they are. This story goes out and beyond their teen years, following accomplishments and heartbreaks and maybe a gold medal or two.

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 You Call My Name, What a Strange Magic (Halldoll) - Mar

A/N: Day 28 of Mayhem: Farmer’s Market

Nicky’s magic flows like rivers in her veins, calm and constant.The way Jaida says her name is a tidal wave that lifts her off the ground and sends her heart spinning.Strange, strange magic.

Tags for @duckprintspress: rpdr fanfiction, may trope mayhem, jaida essence hall, nicky doll, jaida x nicky, magic au

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47698924

______________________________________________________________________

The witch sprays the budding flowers with river water, and they gratefully unfurl their petals. They sway in their pots, gleaming under the sun and grabbing the attention of every passerby in the farmer’s market. They are Nicky’s pride and joy.

An older gentleman leans down and adjusts his glasses to see them better.

“How much for a flower?”

“A childhood dream, or a poem to a lover.”

“Ah, when I was little I wanted to be a train. Not a train conductor, mind you– the whole thing!”

“Really?” Nicky says fascinated, jotting it all down in ink, blotting the page with how fast she is writing. Stupid witch protocols and their aversion to pens.

“Yes,” the man says with a smile as he looks far into the distance. His memories float in thick purple clouds from his mouth to Nicky’s pen. “I wanted to travel long distances and bring people to their loved ones, and I wanted those loved ones to chase after me as I pulled out of the station, waving goodbye until we were just a spot in the distance.”

“That was a good dream,” Nicky says, smiling brightly at the gentleman. She sets down the last dot after the words and the ink glimmers in the paper before settling down. She picks carefully between her flowers, and finds the perfect one for this man. “Here, take it home. Tell it all your worries in the morning, and all your glories at night. It will take it all, good and bad, and it will grow.”

“Bless you,” says the man. He tips his hat goodbye.

A teen shows up not long after, hair dyed the same color as the only flower left. They wave at the flower and the flower waves its leaves.

“Hi! Is this cutie for sale?” says the teen, swaying to the rhythm of the flower.

“Yes, and it looks like it likes you,” Nicky says with pleasure. She only sends her flowers to the best homes.

“I like you too,” the teen says to the flower. “How much?”

“A childhood dream, or a poem to a lover.”

“Oh, man, I’m not much of a poet… and I don’t remember my childhood. Do you take, like, any coin? Like silver or bronze? Crypto?”

Nicky sighs. The exchange rates are brutal, but so many humans insist on using money.

“I can leave it at twenty dollars, plus the warmth of the sun in your face.”

“Deal!”

The teen ruffles through their backpack and puts two crumpled ten dollar bills in Nickys hands, plus some loose candy they find, as a tip. Nicky beckons them closer. She holds their cheeks, chants the words, and watches their cheeks go from rosy to pale, their lips from pink to blue.

“T-that’s c-c-colder than I th-thought,” they say through chattering teeth.

“It goes back to normal in just a few moments, I promise,” Nicky reassures them with a twinge of pity. She gets a stone out of a thermo box and holds it tightly between her hands. The stone absorbs all the warmth. “Stay in the sun for some minutes, and I always recommend a hot coffee,” she says, pointing to the coffee cart at the end of the aisle. “If you tell the girl that the witch sent you, you’ll get a discount,” she winks.

“Sick, thanks,” says the teen, already looking less blue.

They pick up the flower with great care, and they are off.

With the very last of her flowers sold, Nicky begins to clear out her stand. It is so early that she can take a turn around the whole market and be home by sundown. She needs herbs, honey, and questions voiced by children, and she needs time to gather enough courage to visit the coffee cart.

Some days, she has to avoid it entirely and leave the market through the other side. Some days, when she gets close to it, her heart beats loud as a battle drum and all of the squirrels around the park climb down from the trees, hypnotized, and march in a long row after Nicky, scaring the shoppers. Nicky has been told before that, if she can’t get a hold of her powers, they won’t let her rent the stand anymore.

She feels more confident today, however, languid and weakened from the new moon, and her magic is easier to constrain. She takes her sweet time shopping around and not a single squirrel joins her. She takes the offered samples and pretends to eye the products that may be knit blankets or clay pots or wooden toys for all she knows. The coffee cart holds all of her attention.

Nicky steadies her breaths and her magic flows calmly through her veins, constant as a river. There are some people chatting in front of the cart, waiting for their orders, enveloped in the condensation their words form in the cold. It blends with the steam from their coffees, warm as the smile of the girl who’s passing them out. Nicky’s chest burns like a small sun.

The cart is painted a neat white that stands out among the wooden market stalls, and the name is written on the front in elegant cursive letters that Nicky has found herself copying in the margins of her potions books.

Essence

Nicky walks up and the owner welcomes her yelling.

“Nickay!” Jaida screams, twisting the last vowel of her name until it becomes an entirely new sound.

Multilingualism and verbal spells have made Nicky particularly sensitive to sounds. In her second year at the witch academy, one of her classmates tried to bring a chair closer with the accedo spell, but she accidentally said accendo and lit the whole thing on fire. Nothing like watching someone get their eyebrows burned off to learn the importance of phonetics.

When Jaida pronounces her name in that unique way, it’s like Nicky has an entirely new name that belongs to Jaida alone. It feels like a type of magic. That would certainly explain the radiant happiness that manifests in Nicky’s heart at such a simple word. She tampers it down and tries to sound casual.

“Ça va, Jaida? Easy day?”

“Slow day,” Jaida sighs in a low voice, just for Nicky. “I’m dying of boredom out here. Nothing but cappuccinos all day, a girl can only do so many cappuccinos, Nicky! Look at this,” she says, putting a bag of marshmallows in Nicky’s face. “I got these to make hot chocolates, and I haven’t made a single one,” she pouts, making Nicky melt.

“Well, but now you have them for tomorrow, right?”

“I’ve already downed half the bag. You want one?”

Nicky laughs and accepts a marshmallow out of politeness, immediately regretting it when her fingers get all sticky. By the time she finishes it, masking her disgust, Jaida has eaten three more.

“Alright, enough,” Jaida scolds herself with her mouth full, putting the bag away. “What about you? You done already?”

Nicky nods.

“The flowers sell very quickly. I almost cannot keep up.”

“How long does it take to grow them?”

“It takes some weeks. They grow faster in the winter, because I leave the sprouts by the fireplace and they love that. They’re inside plants, you know? They want to be cozy and hear people talk around them. The hard part is that I have to spend so much time inside with them, because they don’t grow if they don’t hear human voices.”

“Girl, leave them with me for a day, I’ll give them back six feet tall. Ain’t nobody quiet in my house.”

“Don’t offer twice, I would love to drop them off somewhere and have a free day.”

“Is there any money in the flower nanny business?”

“Jaida’s daycare for magical flowers?”

“Jaida’s kinder-garden!”

Nicky lets out an undignified snort at the joke which she covers by coughing.

Jaida smiles and leans on her elbows on the counter, closer to Nicky.

“So like, do the flowers speak any language?”

“They should understand every human language, in theory, but I haven’t tested them a lot. I’ve only tried French, English, Latin, Greek, Darija, and ehh, Catalan… and some Spanish.”

“Oh, only those. Pretty shoddy scientific work, Nicky. That will never pass the board.”

“Well, luckily, the board is just me.”

“Paper written by Nicky for Nicky, peer reviewed by Nicky from the Nicky council of Nickys.”

It’s so silly, but Jaida’s voice makes Nicky giggle the more she talks, and she has to rein it in before she attracts another flock of common loons. They’re not even native to the area, but it has happened before. Jaida made a stupid pun and a murmuration of birds obscured the sky, swirling over Nicky’s head and mimicking her laughter. The flock followed her all the way home. They wreaked havoc on her garden.

“Oh, I was gonna ask,” Jaida says, “do you have any more of that cream you gave me for joint pain? It’s so good, I finished the sample already.”

“Did it help?” Nicky says with a luminous smile.

The cart’s light bulbs over their heads shine dangerously bright in a spike of electricity. Jaida looks at them with worry, but Nicky hides her teeth and the light goes back to normal.

“I better unplug these for a minute,” Jaida says.

The cart gets a little dimmer, though still warm in the gray evening. Nicky leans on the counter like Jaida to see her better.

“What was I telling you…” Jaida asks, squinting her eyes. “The cream, yeah. Yes, it was crazy good. I swear that every winter brings some new ache, and this year it was my knuckles’ turn.”

She flexes her fingers with a pained expression, and Nicky already knows how she’ll be spending her evenings the next few days.

“I can make more by Wednesday,” Nicky says.

Monday, if I don’t sleep.

“Really? You’re incredible!”

Her aching hands take Nicky’s with no warning. Thank God Jaida unplugged the lights, or the glass bulbs would have exploded over them. She’s pretty sure the streetlights are getting brighter.

“Of course,” Nicky says, clearing her throat.

She takes back her hands and rubs one over her heart in circles. Counterclockwise, like she was taught, like she does with scared wild animals or sick babies who enter her hut crying in their mothers’ arms, needing to be soothed before they can be healed.

She needs to soothe herself before she can make the offer.

“If you want,” she says when her heartbeat settles down, “I can do a quick lay-on-hands. It’s not as good as the cream, but it lasts almost a day.”

“Really?” Jaida says excitedly. “What’s that, like a massage?”

“Something like it, yes.”

Nicky sets her hands on the counter with the palms up in invitation. Jaida gives her hand with unquestioned trust, and Nicky is so grateful for the complete ease that has marked all of their interactions since they first met. Many humans are wary of her, and some brave souls have even tried to attack her, but not Jaida. Since the very first day, she has only shown curiosity and admiration for Nicky’s craft. Nicky treasures that trust, and repays it whenever she can. Like now.

“Where does it hurt the most?”

“The knuckles, mostly. My wrists kind of crack at night, like a little old lady’s.”

“Okay, relax your hand,” Nicky instructs. Jaida lets her hand rest entirely on hers.

Nicky presses her thumbs on Jaida’s wrist. She closes her eyes. For the first time since she approached Jaida’s cart, she sets her magic free.

It flows from the depths of her mind to her throat, piling incantations on her tongue that she has to swallow down, because it is not the time for words. The magic moves down her arms, burning pleasantly in her palms, and finally reaches her thumbs. When it brushes Jaida’s skin, it recoils.

“This is where the problem is,” Nicky says as she opens her eyes and digs her thumb in the middle of Jaida’s wrists, right on her pulse. It picks up under Nicky’s touch. Jaida must be excited to watch the whole process; she has always shown herself fascinated with magic. “Your body has its own healing energy that flows through your veins. There is something blocking it here,” she runs her thumb over the wrist, “which is why your hand is not curing– healing, I mean. Relax again.”

With some effort, Nicky makes her magic seep through Jaida’s skin. Two paint strokes of radiant blue flow from her thumbs into Jaida’s bloodstream, and although they bump against the blockage, Nicky pushes through and they both see how the magic traces blue rivers down Jaida’s hand and fingers. The beautiful blue glows a dazzling white for a second, and then it is over.

“Can you move your fingers?” Nicky asks in a gentle voice.

Jaida flexes her fingers one by one, entranced.

“That’s wild…” Jaida says, a little breathless. “It doesn’t even hurt, you– you are incredible.”

“It’s just a mid-level transmutation,” Nicky says, trying with all her might to keep her cheeks from turning pink. “Any witch can do that.”

“Are you fucking with me? Nicky, you made literal magic. Let me be impressed,” Jaida urges, squeezing Nicky’s hand.

The gesture could trigger a reaction if Nicky wasn’t entirely captivated by the way Jaida is looking at her. That too, Nicky has learned over time, is its own type of magic.

“Do you want to give me your other hand?” Nicky says, just to have something to say.

Jaida nods and only looks away from Nicky’s eyes to watch the blue rivers form under her skin again.

“Are you gonna let me pay you this time?” Jaida says when they are done and she can flex her fingers painlessly.

Nicky refused to charge her for the cream, using the excuse that it was a sample. Samples don’t usually last for a month, but oh well. Nicky never claimed to be a business woman.

“No, we never charge for this.” When she sees that Jaida is about to argue, she adds: “It is bad luck to heal for money.”

Jaida squints her eyes.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It is bad luck to lie,” Nicky says, biting her tongue.

“You’re just saying whatever, now,” Jaida says, and pushes Nicky’s shoulder. A hard feat, with the counter between them, but Nicky still lets herself be moved by Jaida’s force.

Nicky would like to stay there until the sun sets and the last of the stands is cleared, but she has plants back home waiting for their bedtime story, and ingredients to gather and macerate in oil if she wants to get that cream done in time.

In spite of Nicky’s protests, Jaida sends her home with a tall cup of free coffee made exactly to her taste and a honey-apple roll so fragrant that it fills Nicky’s house with its scent when she leaves it half eaten on her kitchen table. The sweetness and warmth of the drink pools in Nicky’s stomach, and every step home feels like she’s walking on air. For a short second, Nicky wonders if Jaida is hiding powers of her own. But Nicky understands her own heart too well. She knows what is happening, and she knows what kind of magic it is.

The flowers grow heart shaped leaves and pink petals that night, dulcified by the honey in Nicky’s voice. When she takes them to the market on Monday, they are all gone in an hour. Nicky sets one aside, and takes the flower and a tub of healing cream to the cart at the end of the aisle.

Pride Challenge Points: 385

[lily-alphonse]

"I'll Crawl Home to Her" by Lily Alphonse

Category: F/M

Rating: Teen (Mild gore, Injury, War)

Words: 963

And as my mind slips into a place in between: the past and present, beast and man, alive and dead; I wonder if even death will stop me from making it home to her.

A glimpse into Howl's mind as he risked everything to save his family.

A short poem songfic I wrote for Valentine's Day but haven't gotten around to posting here. I have a fandom-blind summary on the AO3 A/N if you'd like to read it without having watched Howl's Moving Castle

>>Read on AO3<<

Or read below ~

I was in Hell. Or at least very nearly so.

The air wasn’t air anymore but something undulating and hot that choked 

It was bombs, debris, and feathers. 

Another airship down. Another comes. More, more, more, attackers. Threats. 

Poor saps, humanity sold for a title, for honor. 

It was honorable, apparently, to be shredded by my talons. 

But maybe the honor was in my blood, dripping down my feathers, mixing with theirs. 

It was human blood, crimson and warm. Or once was. I am nearly as much a beast as them, now. 

But there is no more running. 

There was so much running before. 

But I had found Heaven. It was locked below me in a twisted reversal of legend. 

I had found home . Family . Words otherworldly. Precious now. 

She brought us together, brought light to the darkness. 

It is her laugh I think of, as I am splattered with more blood.

The beast consumes and I allow it; my human form cannot sustain this burden. 

I am powerful. I am not invincible. But I will fight to my dying breath to protect them. 

Protect the mornings eating porridge around the table, Sophie shooting Markl a matronly glare for trying to drink his, and getting it all over his face. Where I laugh despite myself, because he’s barely any better than I am, but anyone else attracting the fiery woman’s ire makes me giddy. 

Protect the way she gasped in awe when I showed her my hideaway, where I saw her true face again, unmarred by her curse. When I realized I was irreparably taken by her.

 

And as my mind slips into a place in between: 

the past and present, beast and man, alive and dead; 

I wonder if even death will stop me

from making it home to her.

The pain shatters my mind. Stabbing in a wing. Burning in a leg. 

Burning off what remains of my once porcelain skin. 

Prized. My body used to make me worthy. A prize. 

For who? For what? I don’t remember. 

How laughable then, that I relinquish my body to

the beast.

My final prayer, I leave the beast with one directive. 

One primal urge: PROTECT.

Then the pain is gone. 

I am a killing machine. 

A beast that can no longer fathom suffering 

except what it summons for others.

I see the world in flashes. 

Fire, bombs, winged henchmen.

Claws, teeth, screeching. 

Home. Sophie. The family. 

Our story only just began

How can it end so quickly? 

I did not know love before she found me. 

I was stupid. Foolish. 

I knew attention. Infatuation. 

But with Sophie… 

Something in my soul recognized hers

We were crafted from the same cosmic dust

Even without a heart my entire being craved her

Her obstinance. Her humor. 

Passionate to a fault. 

And so, so loving. 

My love.

My love. 

She saved me. 

From Sulliman, from the world, from… 

Myself.

She looked into the eyes of a cowardly, petulant fool and saw goodness.

She took my blood-stained hands and embraced them.

Maybe she could save me from Hell. 

I don’t know if I deserve to be saved. 

But I would fly out of Hell for her. 

Make any bargain. I had already traded my heart. 

What are Heaven and Hell but words 

In the face of my love for her. 

I had never even told her. 

I had never even told her.

There is so much left to our story. 

Waking up next to her. 

Her lips against mine. 

There was so much left to write. 

It would not end like this. 

And then somehow there was no more fire.

Only a door, the warped breathing of the beast. 

Then Her. 

She was blurry, but my star dust would recognize hers anywhere.

The beast had dragged my corpse to her just as I wished.

 

She kissed it. My otherworldly shell.

Our first... kiss.

I can’t feel it. 

Inside I am laughing, crying, screaming.

But I am dead to the world. 

Then we were flying again. 

Distantly I felt Calcifer’s presence…

In the end, Darkness.

I sputter awake, wincing at pain I expected to never feel again.

“What’s going on? What am I doing here? I feel te-” I try to sit up, chest unbearably heavy and pinching, “terrible like there's a weight on my chest.”

Sophie. Sophie. Sophie. Sophie. Her face hovers above me, her hand on my chest. Her brown eyes glitter with tears but she wears a small smile.

“A heart’s a heavy burden.” Her sweet voice is the music of Heaven, the symphony of life and love.

A heart. I had forgotten what it felt like, to have a heart fluttering like this. To have it swell in painful joy at a love so strong it would be sure to ruin me if I lost it. I almost did lose it, but somehow... somehow I am here. She brought me back. She saved me again. 

I lift my hand to her cheek and she leans into the embrace with a smile. Gods I have never seen anything so beautiful. Her hair is short now, silver catching the sunlight streaming through the clouds. Despite the pain I sit up with her. “Sophie, your hair looks just like starlight. It looks beautiful.”

“You think so?” she asks excitedly. “So do I!” she throws herself at me in a tight embrace, laughing, face wet with tears.

I squeeze her tightly to me, wishing for all the world for her touch to scar me as everything else had. Over and over again I can not stop the choked whispers into her ear, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

I  crawled back to her an empty shell, and she breathed life into me again. 

I am home.

Excerpt from “Work Song” by Hozier

My babe would never fret none

About what my hands and my body done

If the Lord don't forgive me

I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me

When I was kissing on my baby

And she put her love down soft and sweet

In the low lamplight I was free

Heaven and hell were words to me

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down

I'll crawl home to her

[shibonzakura]

ZoTash Fanfic OPLA fanmade version. Chapter 1

Under the cut to avoid cluttering the dash. PLEASE DO NOT REBLOG UNLESS YOU ASK ME FIRST.

It's Raining Somewhere Else

"Says a man who failed to get himself out of a hole on the first try". It's raining like the sky itself is weeping for a bond lost and this wasn't supposed to happen. On the opposite sides of the battlefield. One a pirate hunter turned pirate and the other a face from the past turned into a mere copycat marine.

They had met on the marine's day off. An unlucky coincidence. Star crossed in the worse sense. Could had been friends. Might had sailed as hunters of the unjust. Things don't always work out however. Some can never follow their dreams. They told his captain that all the time.

"What matters is that I got out. You wouldn't have lasted even one second in there glasses. And stop saying what she would had said!".

She probably would had gotten out on the first try thanks to the pure undulated rage that the marine was seething towards the pirate hunter. The only kind you could find in only a few men or women in her case. Kuina never was this vindictive but that's a given. Zoro himself never really did mock or belittle her like the marine in front of him. The pirate hunter blames her profession as being the soldiers of cruelty. A weak paper thin thing to make an excuse upon. Really? Stooping this low? Her pettiness was rubbing off on him and Zoro hates it.

"Me? Taking on a personality of others? You lying cad!! How dare you accuse me of stealing things. Pirate! I'm my own person, now and until I face my end at the sharp edge of a blade!"

Veins visible on his forehead appear on their own in a comical fashion, like they responded too honestly from his emotions that were spiking in intensity. Okay that did it. No more mister nice guy. Time to finish this fight once and for all. Her skill of drawing her blade much faster than himself was impressive but it was no match for his more experience in more brutal of fights. The marine's blade, which his captain had called 'Skiing' like the Straw Hat teen had also called his own sword 'something Itchy something Monkey' falls from her hand and onto the soaked ground below.

"Your loss. Now get out of here before I change my mind. Never show your face to me again Copycat".

Although, she can't really get away as he keeps her stuck between himself and the wall as the others in her squad look on in awe, like they are seeing something more risqué than just a battle being over. There's the scent of the faint smell of cherry blossoms coming off from the marine. Plus, the familiar one of steel that both have because of the ways of the samurai both had taken at an early age. Tashigi focuses on the closeness of the pirate hunter's earrings, finding more courage to say the line that might change them forever.

"Like I will you filthy liar! Cheater. If you feel that way, finish me. I don't deserve this blade or my life. Kill me and just get on with it.".

Those words. Spoken so long ago by Zoro himself to Kuina. Why is the marine parroting his words too now? It hurts his head and the pirate hunter doesn't want anything to do with this annoying woman who helped him not get the Wado Ichimonji sold for a cheap price to that crook in the sword shop. The way she smiled like a child on Christmas on holding it in her hands with loving care unlike the unworthy ones who just saw a tool to cut rather than someone's soul and chattering away about her interesting hobby of loving blades. Zoro even remembers the way his heart thumped in his chest when the pirate hunter saw the woman for the first time.

And no, it's not because she looked like Kuina. She was pretty in a traditional sort of way despite her awful taste in blouses. He's not sure how to feel about that, her. Any of this. Even her sword that she carried was, how did someone put it into words….cute? Gah! This is stupid. Luffy needed him right this second. No time for distractions. Can't, won't. Not on his dreams or in them. That one time when he got roped in with her schemes of getting him a job by working for the marines and moping the floors with three of them in hand because of said oxymoron situation, didn't happen. Nope. Not gonna remember that. Focus!

"No. You look too much like the one I made a promise to all those years ago. A friend who died. I can't do this, I won't do this and I am wasting time". It's simple and he leaves, letting the marine defend for herself, not looking back. Zoro has said too much. Not even his crew knew about his past. Sure he had a friend, however, Zoro didn't say who that was in passing. But unlike with Kuina, this woman doesn't let sleeping sharks lie. Oh no. This was quite the opposite.

The fury is not quelled, it's only ignited into the flames of hatred, shame, and vengeance. To chase the pirate hunter turned pirate to the ends of the earth. As the green haired swordsman runs away to help his captain, the words to meet again as bitter enemies to something more escape the lips of the defeat scorned not taken seriously woman with the bespectacled face says,

"I, Dracule Tashigi, promise to fight, train and kick your butt for as long as I live. Roronoa Zoro".

Somewhere in the distant Grand Line, a small miniscule sneeze can be heard, waking a man from his peaceful and relaxing slumber. Someone was talking about his last name, but who? The last person who dared say the words 'Dracule' was a mockery of the way of the sword. Estranged.

Someone who was only a memory. Before anyone called him the greatest swordsman. Only a babe when Gol D. Roger was executed. The one who foolishly believed his lie about the swords crying out and collecting them so that they would leave him alone for the day. Reason why he joined the warlords in the first place as marines had used blackmail of the worse kind on someone as powerful as him. A disgusting weakness.

"So you are still alive. The Grace with still no Power. My foolish stubborn daughter. Living in my shadow since forevermore. Tashigi".

[leotello]

Oh my GOD OKAY SO;

I have a different ship for every iteration, so working backward of the ones I know is:

2018 leotello bc I just love them. Two smart people come together to make a whole idiot. Also just. Twins. It gets to me. My OTP. Rise leotello owns my soul.

Bayverse ot4 because. Because. I don't know man, they're all just. So adhd. They're all just a mood and I just cannot see it happening any other way.

2012 ot4 because of that one post you made about Leo falling in love with his brothers. Also because it just feels like he could never love any of his brothers more than the others. Idk, I just think it works. But leo/Casey Jones is cute in this iteration too.

2007 tbh? I'm torn. I love Leotello. I love leoraph. I love leomikey. I love ot4. Anything works here. Honestly, I just like him coming back and having to deal with them kinda moving on without him and struggling to get back into their good graces.

2003 leomikey. Ngl this is kinda bc I hardcore ship raphtello in this iteration but I also just like leomikey in this iteration. Leo needs to fucking relax, honestly, but also I love when he has that moment of "oh, hes not just the baby sibling, is he?"

So yeah.

leotello! my url. i am a sucker for twincest, apparently even if they arent even canon twins. there's just that "other half" thing that i find so romantic. and twin telepathy! the way they understand each other so well. mmm such romantic tropes

i dont ship anything in bayverse, but that is cute. i feel like if they got into a relationship it would be all of them.

and YES, god ot4 with leo falling in love with them is SO close to my heart. leo is the incest king and i just cant imagine him not falling deeply in love with his family.

07 leoraph is the SHIT ok, like im sorry but the rooftop fight scene sold me on it. theyr so homoerotic. theyre so obsessed with each other. they love each other so much it causes problems. they NEED to fuck it would do them so much good. but like, i can also see the ot4 there, like you said, with leo trying to find his place in the family again. and oooh, can you imagine if his time apart allowed certain... feelings... to fester, and now, being around them again, those feelings have to be dealt with? impossible to ignore, now

03 leomikey is SO good, dude i was just talking to PF on twitter about this. leo has a soft spot for mikey, canonically. watch grudge match--leo lets mikey get away with things that raph and donnie cant do. mikey also defends him to raph and donnie and points out everything he does for them, where raph and donnie didnt even seem to notice or realize. mikey appreciates leo in a way raph & donnie don't. which is not to diss them or anything, i know they love leo with their entire souls. all three of them do. but they're obviously less aware of how hard leo works for them. mikey is consciously aware of the fact that he can goof around all day like a normal teen because of leo. i also hc leo as the subbiest sub in the house and mikey as the dommiest dom... so yknow. its a good match.

and mm 03 raphdon is good shit. theyre such stupid sappy idiots in love, but also fucking horny.

[giddlygoat]

hiiii i was talking ab illumination not appreciating the onceler. basically i didn't like how much potential he had but wasn't fleshed out properly so i started making shit up. it's quite elaborate!!

his childhood:

he was born on april 22nd 1992 in some small town in georgia

his parents got married young but got divorced when he was 7, mom won the custody in court and he never saw his dad since

his mother wasn't very good at being a mother because she would neglect her children (yay /s)

he learned how to play the guitar all by himself when he was 12

he was really into fall out boy as a teen

pre thneed inc. days:

he left home around february 2012

he came to greenville on march 2nd 2012

after he promised the lorax he won't cut trees anymore, he really started liking him because he reminded him of his dad (emo alert)

he had an intense, short-lived (this will be a recurring motive) relationship with norma because imo he deserves to have interpersonal relationships with people who aren't the lorax

thneed inc. days:

after he successfully sold his 1st thneed, his company was crowd-funded and started fully operating immediately

after he proved to be successful, he made friends with some rich businessmen who were all like twice his age

again, said friendships were short-lived and intense

his business was really unethical. the workers were badly paid, he polluted the forest really bad and he was actively getting sued. he'd only win the cases because he'd bribe the judge (again, illegal). he broke osha regulations on a daily basis! quirky!

while all of this was going on, he was so sure that he was doing a selfless act, by destroying the forest for his family

in reality, him destroying the forest was an incredibly selfish act, because a group of people that don't care about him mattered more to him than the well-being of the animals and the citizens of greenville who lived right next to the forest.

near the end of his business, december 2012 - january 2013, the workers of thneed inc. unionized. the onceler fired each and every one of them

norma breaks up with the onceler shortly after. good for her!

for context, onceler really (like really really, it wasn't healthy) liked norma for like 3 months and the he grew bored of her and only kept her around because he was lonely

the forest is destroyed around march 2013, and the company shuts down

post thneed inc. days:

march 2013, the onceler shuts himself away from the world and only leaves his mansion once, on april 22nd 2013, his 21st birthday, so he could buy himself loads of alcohol and get wasted

norma forgives him and stays friends with him, that's why she trusts him to talk to ted (a girl's gotta be stupid sometimes) (and no idk who mrs wiggins' father is i never thought of that)

ted wiggins meets the onceler on march 2063, 50 years after his business shut down

additional info:

the onceler's mom was born on june 23rd 1971, when the book came out

the onceler's parents' marriage was a marriage out of convenience, his mother decided to marry his father, his uncle's younger brother, because he had more money and she was hoping she wouldn't be poor anymore, and he wanted to marry her because he wanted to leave his parents' home because he didn't really like them

his parents didn't really like eachother and they were hoping that having children would save their marriage. it didn't.

his brothers are a year older than him

TLDR: the onceler was really selfish and everything he ever did was short-lived and intense. he was really insane too, but that is understandable because 20-year-olds are like that.

anon i am SO sorry this took 60000 years to respond to. i was trying to think of something good to add but my brain has been fried for a while and it’s difficult for me to formulate any substantial headcanons rn. however, these are really interesting and i like your take a lot. i think he definitely had a thing with norma and i love to see ppl with that headcanon. i wish i had more to add to make the wait worth it, sorry.

once again, i would absolutely love to talk about this more! i actually have a discord server for fans of the lorax now so if you’d like to join that, please feel free to, it’s linked in my pinned post. i hope you have a great day/night despite my incredible lateness and boring response sjdndkndn

[foxydivaxx]

Sanji: Chronicles of King Nasty Chapter 1 (Uncensored)

This is the full text of the book here without Ezreal’s commentary. Consider this as Sanji giving an interview and telling us about his life.

Everyone thinks they know it all. The glitz, the glamour, the fame. They believe every tabloid headline as gospel truth forgetting that every celeb they hold to fucked up pedestals are fucking humans with real feelings. Most people forget that shit, especially the media who often try to engage in psychological gymnastics. I cannot tell you the number of times I look at the various headlines about me with disgust as some of the shit about me is exaggerated.

Now I am sure y’all are wondering why I am even bothering to write this book. Truth is, I have so much to get off my chest. So much has happened over the years, that some of you might have heard of but never fully understood. Time to unpack the load. And yes this is me addressing my stupid father who thought he could get away with his latest publicity stunt. No bitch!! We have given you enough chances but you keep on blowing it!! This shit ends now!! I have tolerated enough B.S from him and several others who shall be mentioned in this very book.

In order to understand how all this shit, how about we start all the way from the beginning? Now most of you may already know that my father is Judge Vinsmoke, a rap legend and frontrunner for World’s Shittiest Father and Husband. I find it incredible that this bastard has made a living out of exploiting others for his selfish gain and he is still on top. No worries though. His time at the top shall end soon.

On the other side of the spectrum, we have my beloved mother, the legendary Miss Sora Bernard, one of the greatest pop stars on Earth and an amazing mother to boot. This woman has sold millions of albums worldwide and has inspired me and several others out there. She is partly the reason I am who I am today. I owe this woman so much which is why this book is dedicated to her. She deserves a lot more flowers than we have already given her.

Why am I bringing them up? Well, our story here begins with both of them. Way before Your Truly was born, the both of them were the hottest couple in town at the time. The story goes that the two of them met backstage at an award show and Father got smitten by her beauty and decided to exchange digits with her on the spot. However, Mother was not interested at the time until he started love-bombing her that is. Starting off dating in their teens, they were seen as a match made in Heaven. But appearances can be deceiving, a lesson this fucked industry keeps teaching me.

You see, that old man was a nasty piece of shit. Mum got pregnant for him when they were 18 but the bastard forced her to abort the child in her bathroom whilst playing a guitar, claiming that the music would soothe the pain. As if that wasn't messy enough, the bastard had a couple of other baby mothers besides my mother and two of those women got pregnant for him.

He even threatened to ruin her career should word get out, and the poor woman complied. I am saying this because so many women out there are suffering in silence because of bastards like him. Ironically, I myself would fall victim to a similar kind of situation. More on that later.

Eventually, they got married when she was just 21. A year later, she gave birth to my older sister, Reiju. The following year, she got pregnant again. They thought it was just one boy, but it turned out to be four, one of whom happens to be Yours Truly. According to Mother, Father was nowhere to be seen when she gave birth to us. That tells you the kind of horrible shithead he truly is. Plus, it was raining to boot.

Father was the one who named all of us because in his delusional mind, he is the head of the house and there we his kids are his property. Yes, we are not humans to him but rather we are mere products, not so different from the industry we operate in. How ironic.

We were given numbers in our names to reflect dad’s sick ideology and also to identify each child as we the quadruplets looked so much alike when we were little. Like the same blonde hair and eyes. Even Mother got confused at times.

The first few years were weird but still normal. Mum was the only parent involved in our lives. Father never gave a shit and was busy riding around town, fucking any woman he saw, and spending cash recklessly. Now bitches wonder how we got broke. Well, that is the fucking answer!! The rare few times that man was at home though, he would go into a drunken rant at mother, calling her all manners of profanities and whatnot, and the poor woman would run off to her bathroom, lock herself up, and cry in there. My older brothers Ichiji and Niji have had physical fights with the old man over his shitty behavior.

Making matters worse is that the old man sabotaged her career. He banned her from ever performing and recording any new music. He also managed to gain control of her accounts and froze everything so that she would be trapped in that hellish marriage. Dad even bought a small two-bedroom apartment for us in Brooklyn to live in whilst he was buying mansions for his various baby mammas and even jetsetting the world with them. Imagine the audacity. Nevertheless, we made do with the little we had at the time.

Thank goodness for my siblings. We had each other and were always there for each other. We would always play and mess around. It was during those early years my talents began to reveal themselves. I was singing Mum’s song one day when I was 3 and everyone just froze. I remember being confused. “Why are you staring like that?” I did not realize that I was blessed with talent till my mother told me.

Ever since that day, I began participating in talent shows. What made me determined to be the star that I would become was seeing Doflamingo performing on the Late Show. His charisma and swagger won me over. I began to listen to his songs and would copy his dance moves and style. The others also began to express their talents as well. Mother got Ichiji and Niji DJ mixing sets which we used to create music right from the get-go. Reiju was the fashionista of the house and would teach the boys on how to dress. Yonji was the other dancer of the house and the both of us would have mini dance-offs in the room with the others watching.

Our neighborhood was a pretty okay hood at the time. It was peaceful regardless of the chaos in our home. Most times whenever Dad was being an ass, my siblings and I would run to our next-door neighbor, Aunt Donna. She had two kids Paolo and Jax who were the nicest guys on Earth. We played with the other kids on the block as well. Aunt Donna always protected us and called the cops on my dad whenever she saw the bastard pull up in the neighborhood.

We would head out to the park and just hang out there. There were a lot of rap battles going on at the time and I participated in a lot of those when I was a kid. That trained me as a rapper. It is also around this time that I would meet the love of my life, Zoro. Yeah, Marimo and I have always known each other since we were little kids.

The first time we met was at his mum's house.  Father finally let us out go out to save face.From the first glance, I was suspicious of his mother as she reminded me of my father way too much. The same narcissistic attitude. The same sense of entitlement and her tendency to hover over her son two four seven was so unsettling to me. Our first meeting was not that great as Marimo pointed at my eyebrows and laughed at me and said to me, "Your eyebrows are so stupid Curlybrows!!" His mother had this evil smirk on her face, almost as though she taught him to be mean to others.

I remember glaring angrily at him and firing back saying, "Yeah well your hair is so green and stupid that I bet worms ate your brains, Mosshead!!" We were six year olds at the time. We got into a physical brawl that our siblings broke up. Kuina, Zoro's oldest sister scolded himfor his actions and forced him to apologize. Which he did reluctantly. 

Zoro would join some of the neighbourhood kids outside and the two of us would often bicker and fight whenever we saw each other. Not helping matters was that Zoro was already the popular kid in school whom the girls and some guys fawned over due to being famous as he was already a movie star at that point whereas guys like me had to work ten times harder to get that same level of attention and respect. That would be a recurring issue throughout my lifetime and career. More on that later.

One day, I was talking to this pretty girl called Maria or Black Maria as all your rock fans know her as today. She was so cute and she seemed interested in me. Or at least I thought so. Marimo was nearby and he was not having none of that. He walked over to us and said and I quote, "Hey!! Stop stalking my husband!!" I remembered fuming and punching the living daylights out of Zoro and storming away from the playground. I locked myself in the bedroom and began to break down in tears.

Marimo followed me all the way to the bedroom and bent down and asked me why I was crying. Compared to our previous encounters, he was actually concerned this time around. I began lashing out at him, telling him how I felt being next to him and how it seemed as though he did not have to do anything to get what he wanted whereas people like me had to do more work to get things done. It was then that he entrusted me with the truth about his mother and her abuse. That was the beginning of our friendship and the greatest love story ever told.

My brothers and I were such cheeky little brats. Like, we always pranked Dad and made his life hellish and showed him his place in the house. There was this one time that Niji and I changed the color of Dad's shampoo to blue. The old man screamed his head off and we were all rolling around the floor laughing. Unfortunately, those innocent days came to a halt. When I was 12, my Father and mum got into a heated argument in the kitchen. I remember Reiju and Ichiji trying to drag me, Niji, and Yonji away from the room.

The next thing I knew, we heard a loud gunshot. We all froze as we saw Dad, towering over our mother, gun in hand pointed at her, and Mum on the floor with blood all over the place.

Reiju screamed whilst I rushed towards Mother and hugged her with tears in my eyes. I remember staring Dad in the eyes despite my pain and saying to him, “Remember this day old fart because I will not rest until I become the greatest popstar this world has ever seen!! When I achieve that, I shall personally disgrace you and expose you for the evil bastard you truly are!!”

Before the old man can do anything, the police and paramedics arrive, and the bastard gets arrested. I would see that bastard until years after my debut. Mother survived that, but the incident still scars her to date. She filed for divorce from the old man and was granted custody of her kids and thus a new chapter began as we packed up our bags and moved down to Atlanta to start afresh. Little did I know that that horrific incident would later return to haunt me throughout my life.

[bmpmp3]

I FINALLY watched that barbie movie that came out, i watched it last night! it was cute and pretty solid i thought. and then immediately after finishing that i watched the 1989 found footage tv movie ufo abduction/the mcpherson tape?

barbie was mostly very funny (that smallpox joke is inexcusable tho) it seems aimed for maybe a tween-teen kind of audience? i havent heard of many big huge movies aimed at that demographic recently so thats really nice

you know i was worried id be insufferable to both barbie movie fans and barbie movie haters because i have 1) a doll hobby 2) too much interest in doll history and 3) a complete lack of trust and respect for mattel as a company in the past decade and i figured you wouldnt be able to talk to me about it without me um-actually-ing every two seconds BUT it wasnt as egregious as i expected in regards to doll history myths

im especially glad they didnt call stuff like happy family midge and earring magic ken like "recalled" or "banned" or whatever 'cause thats just one of those myths LOL BUT discontinued is a weird term... yeah they were discontinued but like. all dolls are some day. from what i can tell both those dolls werent even like prematurely (heh) discontinued or anything most reports seem that happy family midge sold okay (although there seems to have been controversies at least with the wedding ring and cardboard cutout husband situations) and earring magic ken probably didnt sell well. because hes ken. the earring magic barbies in the line probably sold better LOL i guess a better term could have been like. controversial barbies? infamous barbies? sugar's daddy ken is true and hilarious tho, although if i remember correctly it was like a collectors doll meant for adults that just never got released in the first place

I DID love tanner's inclusion. i love that stupid shitting dog so much i wanted it so bad as a kid but i didnt care about the barbie so it would have been a waste of a playset

speaking of not caring about the barbie so like. i didnt really like barbies as a kid. i didnt really like dolls. i was a furry i only liked animal shaped toys LOL i did have one barbie i picked out myself, fairytopia kindlee who i loved and adored and lost and i dream about her forever. but yeah nothing less interesting to me both as a child and as an adult than a default face sculpt blue eyed blonde barbie toy, which is, as most adults interesting in the modern day toy industry can attest, the reason for our disdain for mattel HFJDKHFDJS actually its more than that - weirdly inflated prices for cheaply made clothes and low quality printing, strangely dated fashion, the weird all or nothing either bare minimum 5 points of articulation or full out double jointed mtm bodies (where is single jointed elbows...i miss her....), THE DECADE LONG REIGN OF TERROR OF THE GLUE HEAD (although we're finally past that), why are those collectors dolls so expensive they look the same quality, why did they make that collectors mermaid ken white from the brown guy in the concept art, in canada the pricing and availability is wacky so i imagine its even worse everywhere else outside the US, this is a personal thing but why does every mattel doll ive ever owned like combust at its joints randomly. am i cursed? do i have a mattel curse? ive been thinking about this for years why does the plastic just disintigrate the second it enters my home what god did i anger. what plastic god did i anger. help me my bloodline has been cursed by some sort of polyvinyl based deity beyond my comprehension

anyway as i was saying it was a little sobering watching a movie with a good fashion and prop and set budget do a take on the memories of what barbie dolls used to be and then thinking about that absolutely dire state we're in rn. bro i kept looking at outfits like modern mattel would never. theyre too busy making half printed t shirt dresses with a random ruffle attached on the side <3 but vintage mattel would also not be as diverse. although neither mattel has an actually fat doll so. um. thats the saddest um-actually im gonna do :(

ive been joking to myself for years that barbie is the name of the species, ken might be some kind of subspecies, so it is funny to see the brand in both real life stores and also this movie lean into that. barbie really is a species. they do move in herds. wait im getting distracted anyway years ago barbie had a big refresh where they leaned into the idea that anyone can be barbie - everyone is barbie: they brought out new body types (standard, tall, short, and slightly curvy) which was a big step, a bigger range of skintones and all kinds of new face molds and screenings, also theres like bald barbies and barbies with prosthetics and wheelchair barbies are made way more often. and all this is fantastic. but unfortunately the blonde blue eyed millie sculpts still haunt most non-fashionista releases.... stereotypical barbie u dont know what u are.... its a shame they didnt reference the millie sculpt in the movie i woulda died LOL

but i always thought it was pretty wack that they made all these cool dolls and then relegated them to wear t shirt dresses for eternity. i like that the budget line is so diverse and i dont even mind the lack of articulation that much (although i do miss basic 9 point articulation where are my elbows and knees) but GOD those outfits. can be ROUGH. and WHY do they never put like half of the diverse dolls in other playsets WHY cant basketball barbie be bald WHEN will i get that prosthetic leg barbie as a fairy like youve put all this effort into all this diversity and then ur doing NOTHING with it mattel im begging u. im begging u. make a fantasy wheelchair barbie i know you can do it. i know you can do it

im not even talking about the movie anymore sorry im just complaining about barbie dolls even tho im not a huge barbie collector JFKDHJRKF i was just picky about toys as a child and i want kids nowadays to get cool dolls too. i think a kid deserves a nice thing to play with that looks like them or like their family or other people around them that also allows to imaginative play you know

okay. okay in the context of the movie its fine and makes sense but lemme tell u. being so deep in the current state of mattel hearing america ferrera's character suggest "ordinary barbie" made me fucking jump out of my seat and point at my laptop screen i almost said outloud "YOUUU" jgekfjfd it was her.... she did this.... jk jk its a sweet message in the movie but just so u know in mattel's mind "ordinary barbie" translates to overpriced cheaply made sack dress barbie. orz

wait back on topic back on topic its a nice movie, im glad it resonates with a lot of people. the plot was a little strange but i dont mind, the sets and outfits and everything was so good anyway, i loved that big huge chunky necklace as a touch, its some fashion brand symbol i dont remember sowwy but i like how huge it is LOL also the music was pretty great, i liked the needle drops and the music composed for the movie was fun too, what was i made for is fantastic but i knew that already its been a hit for a while now and i heard a vocal synth cover of it that sounded nice so i was already on board HJKDHJKFDS sometimes the. racial aspect of the movie was. jarring? they really only mention race like thrice (one of those times being the aforementioned awful smallpox joke) which. you know sometimes i get a little annoyed with a lot of contemporary movies and shows bringing up race just for little quips and jokes here and there while completely ignoring anything substantial about the topic, i know this is a tween movie with a two hour run time and they wanted to focus but i dunno man. it always feels like they're making a joke about elephants while the ignoring the elephant in the room staring u down. but whatever. i'll just lock someone into an unskippable cutscene conversation about history in regards to race and dolls irl later LOL cute movie tho. i like when movies have cool sets and outfits

NOW to the second half of that very odd double feature i gave myself last night UFO ABDUCTION its basically considered the first found footage horror movie, as a tv movie from 1989, and lemme tell u IT IS hard to watch LOL not because its like scary but like. because its a little bit bad <3 but its okay i dont mind, the main character behind the camera got pretty insufferable near the end (would not shut up and made it hard to hear the other actors orz) but it was only an hour and had like no budget - plus i love seeing where so much of the genre came from. im glad to know people screaming at the main character to shut that damn camera off has been here since the very beginning. i also loved the stupid alien costumes its such a shame theyre only in there for like 3 scenes they were the best part: genuinely kind of creepy at the first sight at the ufo landing because theyre so far away and low quality, and also really silly and goofy when they walk right up to the camera <3 <3 <3

i truly madly deeply genuinely without a shred of irony adore found footage so im always happy to see more! even when its bad :) i like it when cameras shake and people scream OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT

[fumifooms]

HarukAsa

I’m disappointed in the Chainsaw Man fandom. I can’t believe I have to embarrass myself by being the first one to say it. How can the world do this to me.

So like. Wouldn’t it be kinda interesting, wouldn’t it be kinda neat, to ship Asa and Haruka and see where it goes…

Ok so I’ve been holding it back for a few weeks. The first thing that drew my eye to this ship concept is that he was* pretending to be Chainsaw Man, so that gives Asa incentives to interact with him and from there a lot of fun scenarios can happen. Hruka’s personality is just being flamboyant and lying about himself to seem cooler, being a cold bitch as an authority figure and also being pathetic and cringefail. He’s just a highschooler that’s a hardcore Chainsaw Man fanboy and wants to be liked and respected and cooler but is just… A dumb teen. C’monnn he’s flamboyant and she wants to be invisible. He thinks he’s hot shit and she just wants to dig herself a hole to hide in. He’s the powerless & pathetic one that seems well-adjusted and she’s the messy war machine!! All I’m saying is that I like Haruka and I think harukasa would be funny and cute and maybe even heartfelt. Give me an Haruka character arc, canon, please, I beg. If you want more of my thoughts on him, here’s a post of mine theorizing!

WHICH. He *is* some level of smart, don’t get me wrong. He’s good at assessing situations and forming plans, as seen as how he directed people in the Aquarium crisis. The fact he freaked out after a couple days is fair, so did everyone else and not even Yoshida or Chainsaw Man were able to find any way out. Let the guy cry for his life. Anyways- so he’s kinda smart, plus he’s student council president so he’s supposed to have his shit together, AND he’s obsessed with a devil who’s a devil hunter. He’s the devil hunter club’s leader. I would not be surprised at all if as the page below implies Haruka would sus out Asa having a devil contract or even straight up being a horsemen. Famine’s on his team, who knows at this point.

So that’s even more fun scenarios harukasa can sprout!!! Also imo after how he talked to her at the Aquarium I don’t think Asa would feel very guilty over transforming him into a weapon… At first anyways, then she learns how much of a sad lonely loser he is and her heart is taken from then on. Just think about it!! The “oh mighty” devil hunting club president who’s actually pretty loser and his -surprise!- badass devil girlfriend who will protect him and carry him bridal style through the guts of a devil he got too close to and that she killed for him. You can sprinkle in so many flavors!! Do they bond over feeling lonely and outcast and stupid? Is there a lot of tension and dislike??! Is it chainsaw man superfan vs hater?! Does she lowkey crave his validation as her club president?! 

Putting the rest under a cut for space reasons but give this a chance please maybe… I am incoherent and desperate and us Haruka fans are so rare

Wow, look at this compilation of Haruka being love interest material!! /hj

Also he called her attagirl… Idk that’s just a fun pet name I think Asa would love it in general. Makes her feel competent and appreciated

Hehe look at him trying to make a grand introduction and getting interrupted, he’s so pissed and petulant 💕he prob feels powerless in his life in general and tries to compensate with his meager social status tbh

They even have a lil’ heart to heart!! Oh to be curled up in foetal position against the wall as your love interest is laying on the floor waiting for death in misery and all your walls of secrets and illusions of grandeur come down. There isn’t any sense of propriety or pretense left here.

All that I’m saying is that Denji is great but also Asa deserves a boyfriend that will be scared shitless of her devil form. Or actively want to kill her. Also his hair looks stupid.

ALSO. 

I mean….. I MEAN…….

Ok if I’ve not sold you on the aesthetic just think: wouldn’t it be funny. Imagine in an AU where Haruka hasn’t revealed he isn’t Chainsaw Man, Yoru is like “Ok whatever, your thing with Denji isn’t progressing with the plan, what if you try getting close to Chainsaw Man instead? Seduce him!” And the irony is ofc that she’s leaving Denji for a fake Chainsaw Man AND OH HOW GLORIOUS THAT WOULD BE. When the charade is blown and Haruka isn’t Chainsaw Man, maybe like he confesses it to her in a vulnerable moment when they officially become a couple, and then Yoru immediately turns him into a weapon even if Asa had started to like him. Or! Love triangle with Denji that’d be so funny. Maybe Haruka takes an interest in her once he sees her powers, wants to investigate or smth! 

Haruka is just a funny little guy that’s even more loser than Asa and Denji because he’s actually powerless and I want him to get into dangerous shit and freak out and then try to save face & look cool anyways, start having white hairs from stress at the age of 20 bc he can’t handle any of this shit and yet. He’s a clown for liking Asa but also I think it’d be a cute clown where he’d let himself be sillier and less important and whatever. Anyways!!!!! Fumi out, enjoy the food for thought 🤡

Asaden is becoming canon so I want to drive the car in a wild other & new direction! I don’t care about the tragic incredible well-written narrative!! Give me the crackship that somehow works!!

[chartical]

Legally Blonde and How Fighting Amongst Women Never Goes Away

I recently watched Legally Blonde after seeing someone on Twitter praise Elle Woods for being an absolute icon, as well as showing how supportive her sorority sisters were by helping her study to get into Harvard Law. Legally Blonde was truly ahead of its time, subverting the blonde bimbo girl trope, and allowing women to be academically successful while still embracing their feminine side. For those who have never seen Legally Blonde, the protagonist, Elle Woods, studies hard to get into Harvard Law after her boyfriend, Warner, breaks up with her, because she believes that a graduate of Harvard Law is the type of girl Warner wants to be with. During her time in school, she takes on a case and has to prove the innocence of one of her sorority sisters, who has been accused of murder.

Legally Blonde is empowering: it subverts the idea that pretty girls are stupid and are unable to do anything aside from being someone’s trophy wife. In fact, it was Elle’s knowledge of beauty products and how perms work that allowed her to win the case at the very end of the film. Elle saying, “Any cosmo girl would know this.” only serves to empower women who like reading beauty tips and engaging in girlier or more feminine activities.

However, as much as I’d love to praise Legally Blonde and talk about my favourite moments in the film, it has also shed light on a concern I have.

See, much like every other movie, there’s a character who serves as a character foil to Elle, and in this case, it would be Vivian Kensington. Vivian is preppy, intelligent, and is not as girly or feminine as Elle. When compared to Elle, Vivian is not as (conventionally) pretty as Elle, and yet she was able to become Warner’s fiancée simply based on her smartness alone. Throughout the film, we see Elle get underestimated and shot down by everyone around her, with people telling her that she is already pretty, she does not have to work hard and can cruise by on her looks alone. The idea of someone being both pretty and smart was almost too much to comprehend, in most people’s minds. However, if Elle is the definition of pretty and smart, what does that do to the self-esteem of less conventionally attractive people like Vivian?

We’ve all heard the phrase, “I’m not like other girls”, and we have definitely seen that trope repeated time and time again, where less conventionally attractive girls are able to become successful in other areas, a common area would be in terms of intelligence. I’m no stranger to this concept– heck, I worshipped it when I was 13, thinking, “It’s okay, those girls are pretty for now, but I’ll be smart forever.” Then I proceeded to be severely devastated when those girls who I envied so much were also smart, because if I can’t win on the attractiveness scale, and those girls have proved that you can be both smart and pretty, then aren’t I losing in every aspect?

When thinking about this from a dating perspective, most girls tend to feel insecure if they are unable to secure a boyfriend, especially during their youth, because youth is sold to us as a time filled with whirlwind romances, and if we don’t experience that, then are we really living our best life? So, in a desperate attempt to snag a boyfriend for ourselves, we look at what we could possibly work on. If I’m someone who is not conventionally attractive, I have to work on my knowledge and humour, and use those aspects of myself to paint me as a desirable girlfriend. This leads to the stereotypical female characters we see in Netflix teen romance films– they are not popular, or conventionally pretty, but hey, they’re really witty and the guys are super intrigued by their lack of enthusiasm towards girly things!

By having representation of these witty girls on screen does motivate girls to study harder and work on their personality, and it validates them, telling them that it’s okay to not be conventionally pretty. However, it comes at the expense of making the pretty, popular girl seem like a rude bitch who only cares about her looks and is bad at studying. This leads to movies like Legally Blonde, where the protagonist is conventionally pretty and is also smart, but it also comes at the expense of the witty girls, who are now losing in every single aspect.

This isn’t to say that Legally Blonde is a bad film, or that it tears other women down just to boost some women. However, it is worth noting that Vivian is not exactly painted in the best light either. She comes off as snooty, scoffing at Elle, and constantly thinking that she is better than Elle because Elle is a pretty girl who is not exactly the brightest bulb. Of course, Vivian is characterised that way because it is part of Elle’s character development to subvert all those expectations, but Vivian also thinks it is Elle’s fault when their professor tries to make a move on Elle. This scene comes after Elle and Vivian bond over everyday sexism in the office, and it makes no sense that Vivian would pin the blame on Elle, especially after a conversation like that.

It is interesting to me that we can never have a good representation of different kinds of women in one space. One side must always be torn down in order to boost the other, and for what? For the average straight man to revel in the idea of women fighting over him? It is worth noting that Warner bought his way into Harvard Law, whilst Elle worked hard and got in through her grades alone. Both Elle and Vivian are way smarter than Warner, and yet the first half of the movie features the two women attempting to tear each other down. Vivian is arrogant, and Elle recalls the four hours her and Warner spent in a hot tub… What’s the point? Ultimately, none of them marries Warner, and the two girls become close friends, but the bitter taste that came with both women fighting and competing against each other just to be someone’s wife continues to linger.

[lazyrabbit755]

Ok so I finished Wednesday...

So first of all I wanna start by saying I really liked the series. I'm gonna go into detail about what I liked and didn't like and what I want to see improved in later seasons (assuming there are any). But overall no matter my criticisms overall I really liked the show as a whole! You might be asking yourself why I'm not just writing a review on IMDB or something? To which my reasoning is that this is my little blog and I am going to exercise my right to rant about my stupid little obsessions on the internet as much as I want!

Just a heads up I am going to go into spoilers so I would highly encourage you to watch the show first and come to your own decisions before reading what some rando on the internet has to say about it. Now with that out of the way, let's get into it...

The Good:

Obviously the art direction is great, I mean it's Tim Burton directing an Addams Family reboot, that's a match made in heaven! The characters were wonderful, I honestly think they carried the show imo. Eugene and Thing were some standouts to me although of course Bianca, Enid and Wednesday were my favorites. I just really feel like Eugene was like the MVP and like was consistently one of the nicest characters both to Wednesday and the other characters (although the scene where he barfs all over the pilgrim bullies was kinda dated, really felt like I was watching an early 2000s movie making fat jokes in poor taste) The music score was lovely it really sold the whole "Goth Girl Hogwarts" vibe which I don't mean as a jab towards Goths cause I'm obviously here for that or I wouldn't be writing about this show.

The not so good:

Tbh the whole teen romance subplot wasn't doing it for me. I mean I get why they wrote it in but it felt kinda forced at times ngl. Like having Wednesday go back and forth between Tyler and Xavier, (the two most boring "straight guy" names of all time btw) after a while it felt like writers ran out of excuses on why Wednesday would be leaving one of the boys hanging while pursuing the other. Yes a lot of people have complained about how boring in general Xavier and Tyler were as characters and I agree! You had on one had an artsy loner boyfriend who has psychic abilities and the power to LITERALLY MAKE HIS DRAWINGS COME TO LIFE and they managed to make him uninteresting and kinda unlikable (that last one being more subjective to myself but you get the point). And on the other hand a literal serial killer boyfriend who turns into a 10ft tall monster with a mommy kink. And like just saying the whole idea that Laurel controls Tyler because she told him the truth about his mother also being a Hyde was kinda weak. Like just say the kid has mommy issues!

In all honesty the main gripe that I have with the show is actually about Wednesday herself. She didn't really get that much character development throughout the season. YES her relationship with Enid was very cute and I love Enid...BUT...the show even acknowledges that Wednesday is kinda a jerk to her friends. Enid straight up tells her to her face that she doesn't like the way she treats her, bringing her along to dangerous investigations and tricking her with the promise of a girls night out. And before we knew that Tyler was the real killer he was in the same boat. I mean she leads him on prioritizing herself first and her investigation and uses him to get what she wants. Same with Xavier who REALLY got the short end of the stick getting PUT IN FUCKING JAIL (even if it was only for a night or so). It felt like towards the second half of the season that Wednesday was going through a series of selfish decisions and having characters highlight them to her face so that she could reflect on her bad actions and grow as a character. But instead of giving us that payoff she literally doesn't grow OR APOLOGIZE to basically anyone! And when she does apologize it's weak as hell! Instead most of the characters she treats like crap come to her and apologize or attempt to rekindle their relationship. I MEAN FOR GOD'S SAKE Enid literally tells Wednesday TO HER FACE, that she is the one making most of the effort in their friendship and instead of apologizing, Wednesday just tells her she doesn't need friends and that she's a gigachad alpha. And Enid just comes back like an episode later and has a change of heart. And her "apology" to Xavier was just pathetic. He just sorta forgave her for everything after being justifiably pissed the fuck off at her for ruining his life and then suddenly forgives her for everything because she took an arrow to the shoulder for him.

Like it feels like the writers ran out of time or something, like they wanted her relationship with Enid and the other characters to have more depth. Like most of the other side characters have at least decent character development arcs, like Enid and Bianca standing up to their Mothers. The thing is I like Wednesday as a character, contrary to what you might have just read I want to root for her! But the writers made it a bit hard towards the end. I know they wanted to sell the whole Goth girl, raven from teen titans, attitude but it's ok guys you can make her a little more likable.

Conclusions:

You may think that I have been a bit harsh or nitpicky about the show. Or perhaps you're thinking "Why the hell did this loser nobody write several paragraphs about some dumb teen drama Netflix show" to which my response is why are you still reading? YES I'm probably a bit harsh on this series or nitpicky but that's because I like it so much! When something that you enjoy is so close to being "perfect" (or at least really well done) it's all the more disappointing when it just barely falls short. If your favorite sports team loses by one point right before the final whistle you're even more crushed that you would've been if they had lost by 8 points.

To conclude despite the cheesy teen romance plot lines and boring ass love interests, I enjoyed my time with this show and if there are more seasons to come (which it's looking like there will be considering the success of the show) I want to see the show do better and improve upon it's previous seasons.

If you read all that borderline incomprehensible word vomit here's a gold star 🌟 you deserve it. 👍 And hey, Thanks for stopping by! I hope you have a great rest of your day/night and if you watched the show lemme know if you agreed with some stuff I said or you think I'm fucking insane for caring so much and writing all this. Either way it's just a show at the end of the day. :)