#some of these are a little sad if you think about them too much

[wiseabsol]

The Ithaca Saga is banger after banger, but what makes me sob every time I listen to it is Athena's part in "I Can't Help But Wonder." Like DAMN is her arc amazing, especially in parallel to Odysseus'. And the gentle sadness of his response makes my heart ache.

[machveil]

What do you HC König to look like under the hood?

..this is for scientific reasons , nothing nefarious going on here 👀👀

okay, so I have some Fun Thoughts, might get angsty (?), but overall we’re grooving🎀✨

CW: mention of a gun misfiring + shrapnel, past injury

[big sigh] crooked roman nose, and he’s got a big nose. I know it in my heart. very pronounced, his nose bridge is defined, but I’m a whore for a good crooked nose and I just. I know he has one, look away from me. as much as König is anxious over his physical appearance, I don’t think he hates his nose in particular or anything - like, yeah, it’s busted and another thing someone could stare at or whisper about, but it’s the least of his personal concerns. could he have it fixed? absolutely, he has the cash for it, but I think his mindset is ‘this could get broken again, why bother’

I don’t know, I just see him and I picture this man has a honkin’ nose

sad, wet König has sad, wet eyes. we know those baby blues anywhere, them icy eyes, but I think they’re always a little wet. he’s just one of those people who’s eyes always look a little glossy even when he’s not feeling any particularly strong emotion. he could be brushing his teeth and his eyes look wet

also, with his eyes in mind, he’s got long eyelashes. just a brief mention because, not that he cries regularly - far from it, but when he does? miserable little meow meow, he’s got big, fat tears clumping to his eyelashes as he sniffles (very snotty, sorry) and sobs (choked and broken, again, very sorry)

oh baby, man has thick, slightly upturned eyebrows. for as fearsome and intimidating as the Colonel is, he has resting miserable face. his eyebrows are thick, a couple stragglers that are longer than the rest (old man eyebrow moment). they naturally look like he’s knitting his eyebrows, even when his face is resting. he actually looks so pitiful and miserable when he actually furrows his brows, just a dramatic upturn

he’s ginger. in my head, he’s ginger. as much as I love hearing König with different hair colors, he’s got long, luscious copper hair to me. now, I’m not saying my personal opinion is objectively correct, but I have three photos that I want you to look at because please. please imagine sad, wet König with copper hair for me (picture one, picture two, and picture three). I’m a ginger König truther, I just have to put it out here

also, you heard me right. long hair. gorgeous, long locks of hair. let me paint you a picture, and by paint you a picture I mean here’s another Pinterest link. please! big, muscular man, the back of a Greek statue, and he has his pretty copper hair braided? ough, fucking manifesting him. and he has a lot of hair, it’s thick. he can’t be bothered to always brush it - can you imagine this behemoth of a man with the worst bed head ever? knots and matted down clumps of hair, stray strands poking out every which way - and when the sun hits his hair it looks a little more on the blonde side. I just think he’d be so pretty with copper hair guys, have I won someone over? do you believe me and my ginger König propaganda?

freckles!! as much as I love König having freckles, I don’t think he’d enjoy having them. and they’re not just under his hood, mind you, man is covered in them from head to toe. while his face is definitely coated in them, I think his shoulders and upper back got hit the hardest with them, also his arms, but more so his biceps. again, absolutely covered in them, but those areas are slammed with them

back to his face, he’s plastered. chin to forehead, ears dotted with some too. as an adult no one really comments on them because he wears the hood, very few actually know what he looks like, but as a kid? maybe it’s because he’s so heavily freckled, but that was a sore point that kids poked fun at him for. he’s carried that with him into adulthood, sometimes he’ll wear a balaclava around the house when he feels particularly bad about it - but even then, he still sees the freckles around his eyes

okay, so, firm believer he has facial scars, right? but I don’t think they’re from deployments or anything in the field, I think they’re from when he was a rookie. I saw one (1) post about it and it’ll live in my head forever (I wish I saved it, it was a recommended post on my feed that vanished). König has facial scars from shrapnel. this is really early König I’m talking about, predeceasing the balaclava and sniper hood. either his own gun or someone’s training next to him (I lean towards another rookie, I eat up the angst of it being something that was out of his control, don’t mind me), but there was a misfire and shrapnel got his face

I think prior to the misfire he still had a couple nicks and smaller scars from his childhood on his face. maybe a kid pushed him a little too hard and a piece of gravel got him or something. but this? granted, it was a total accident, but it shatters his heart. everything heals up fine, luckily it missed his eye, but half his face is scarred over in various spots - short and long streaks, rough skin covering where freckles had been

present day, as much as he hides his face for the sake of his identity, I think the main contributor are his scars. since that accident he’s gotten a few more minor scars to his face, mostly faded and barely visible, but the shrapnel scars are what he’s really hiding

I think his lips are on the thinner side, quite chapped too. in the same vein, I’ll also mention his teeth - König has nice white teeth, they’re just a little crooked. obviously, he’s very smoochable, got some kissable lips. he likes to joke about how, because his teeth aren’t perfect, he’d be easy to recognize by his dental records. he finds this very amusing

I think those are all my current thoughts on what he looks like! uuh, optional opinion I go back and forth on is him having stubble. I like to think he keeps clean shaven a majority of the time, but sometimes he’ll let his stubble grow out. sorry König beard truthers, I cannot get on board that train

[halfgirl-halfdolll]

Self-indulgent again, also very much a vent. For the girlies who don't wanna be moms, not even in fictional settings, who kinda need some representation. Tw: angst with (almost) no comfort and self-deprecation.

You don't want kids.

You have nothing against them, really. You even like most children, think they're cute and all, but it's just not for you. You have never liked baby dolls, nor have you ever dreamed of motherhood; never had that tug of maternal instinct that most women your age felt.

And for a long time, you felt wrong. It was yet another broken part of you that you couldn't possibly fix, and that alienated you from your peers. You still feel wrong. An annoying, loud part of you still thinks you're broken, but what can you do?

You scroll through your instagram feed, seeing post after post of old classmates either with a big, round belly or with a little bundle in the arms, all bright smiles and hands entertwined and hugs.

And you think maybe you ARE doing things wrong. Maybe you were supposed to do that too. Try to conform to what everyone apparently thinks you should do, push through and endure something you know you weren't built for – maybe it'd fill the hole inside your gut, who knows?

Then you hear a baby cry – a soldier's wife was visiting with their kid – and you lose your breath, quickly approaching a meltdown as you feel your hackles raise despite how much you think it's wrong to feel this way.

You lock yourself into the nearest room.

Truly, you don't mind children. In fact, you respect them so much you know they deserve someone who has maternal instincts, and you know that you're not that someone. Not when you fucking derail at the sound of a kid crying.

"What's wrong, love?" Your eyes focus and you finally realize that you had entered Price's office without realizing. Probably your subconscious seeking the comfort of his presence.

"... Nothing." You lie, breathing deeply and waddling your way to one of his couches. The other men observe your movements with the some focus of a scientist finding a jumpy animal in the wild. Simon gets up to give you his seat on the couch.

"Yer pale as a sheet, lass. What happened? Saw a bug on yer way here?" Soap says playfully, as he scoots closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and anchoring you back to reality.

You huff out a sad, tired laugh and shake your head. You feel the familiar pressure build up behind your eyes and your throat constricts, but you close your eyes and keep breathing deeply, willing the tears away.

A few moments pass of you trying to keep your emotions at bay while the men silently watch you, patiently waiting for you to open up in your terms.

"Do you think I'm broken?" You finally whisper and Ghost is kneeling right beside your seat in the blink of an eye, a strong hand squeezing your knee.

"Why would we ever think that, love?" Kyle asks as he sits on the ground and swiftly takes off your shoes, massaging your feet.

You clear your throat, trying to ground yourself through the feeling of Soap, Ghost and Gaz touching you, all while Price stands to the side. The comforting woodsy scent of their colognes envelops you like a cocoon, but it doesn't stop you from thinking.

It is during moments like this that you can feel your heart breaking – remembering how much you ended up loving them and how much you don't deserve them at the same time.

Your mind flashes back to late nights at some hole-in-the-wall bar, all four of them in different stages of drunkenness, talking about distant dreams they have – a family. Kids running through the house. You'd usually smile and keep quiet, knowing you were drunk as well; at the danger of making some self-deprecating comment you were sure they wouldn't appreciate.

It's good, how things have to be nipped at the bud, you think. It's best to have your fantasies ruined than indulge in them and then hurt yourself later on.

You look at Johnny, a sorrowful smile on your face as he raised his eyebrows in concern. He'll be a great father, you're sure of it. All of them will. It's just sad that you will never be the one to fulfill their fatherhood dreams. You can't disrespect their dreams out of selfishness. You can't disrespect a child just because you were too greedy to breath the same air as those men.

Your breathing slows down, emptiness burrowing its roots deep inside the painful muscles of your heart and your gut.

If you're going to be miserable either way, you'd always choose the option in which you would never drag any of them down with you.

"Forget I said anything." You squeeze Simon's hand, still firmly clutching your thigh. "I'm just having a bad day. I'll feel better soon."

You lean forward, gently removing Kyle's hands from your feet, and put your shoes back on. You get up, still feeling like there's a scream stuck in your throat – something fierce inside of you that begs to be loved without needing to create life; something desperate, that wonders if anyone would want to stay with you without a child to tie them down.

Oh god, are you going to die alone?

You clear your throat as you get up before images of the 141 with other women begin flooding your mind. That would have to wait till nighttime. You could cry freely then.

You force a tight-lipped smile and nod your head at Price. He subtly narrows his eyes.

"Sorry I barged through your door with my nonsense, Captain. I'll be taking my leave now."

Price crosses his arms and watches you leave, steps slow and deliberate as if you were hanging by the thinnest thread. He's very aware of the eyes of his men boring through his head, egging him on to do something, say something. Isn't he the Captain, after all?

"Love." Price calls out for you as you open the door. You look at him with watery eyes and reddened lips. No matter how much you tried to hide how awful you felt, you always wore your emotions on your expressions.

"You're not broken." He murmurs and your eyebrows twitch. "No matter what hurts you. We would never think you're broken."

You bite your tongue, holding back any bitter protest of his words. Instead, you smile.

"Thanks, Cap. I do hope so." You say as you step outside and close the door before any of them could try to retort. You can't discuss anything right now. Not when your mind is yelling silently, desperately begging for acceptance of you as you are.

Most times, you just hate yourself too much and too loudly to be able to notice how they would never care about the choices you have made for yourself and your life, as long as you could stay inside their arms; as long as you could be their girl.

[mymoshangthoughts]

the thing about my mobei jun hcs are that i believe two things are equally true

mobei jun is helplessly in love with (airplane) shang qinghua and would do literally anything for him, finds him charming, wants to spend the rest of his life with him, would simp 100%, very in love

mobei jun absolutely hates that sniveling motherfucking stupid piece of dumb shit (airplane) shang qinghua and spends many days thinking about how nice it would be to pop off his stupid little head so that he'd stop with all the fucking bullshit and also, fuck that guy

like i think he finds pathetic crybaby airplane to be the cutest thing ever. and he simultaneously thinks he's the most obnoxious bastard ever.

to be fair, i think most of his hate comes solely from the fact that:

airplane is clearly lying to him, has been clearly lying to him, their whole fucking relationship is basically a lie from day 1 and getting him to say anything sincere is like pulling teeth

airplane is not his type. oki bear with me, i know that i SAY two-faced crybabies are his type and thats because THEY ARE. but its like, he doesnt REALIZE that's his type and it's also the type he hates. highkey, this man has 'uncle issues' and realizing that his type is lowkey similar to his uncle is a reality that he is NOT ready to cope with. so he very much THINKS thats the type of person he hates most, even tho he's weak to it

airplane is NOT RESPONDING APPROPRIATELY TO ANY OF HIS COURTING ATTEMPTS, NOT EVEN GIVING AN APPROPRIATE REJECTION. IT IS MADDENING. try being strung along for many years with someone who keeps kinda giving you HOPE they miiigggghhhttt like you back, but then they rescind it just as quickly. over and over and over until you kinda hate them a little bit

i just love the contradiction of mobei jun being very ready to be a devoted and loving partner while also being very ready and happy to punt shang qinghua into a death-cave, oki? like he's been strung along for WAY TOO LONG not to have some hang ups about his shitty not-boyfriend

in other words, our beloved ice demon king is a motherfucking tsundere. to his very core, this trsundere is dying at all times because he simultaneously loves and hates the object of his affection and feels deeply embarrassed by his own feelings and equally shameless about them. mobei jun is pretty much ready at all times to completely deny any affection ever held for shang qinghua with a cold passion AND to shamelessly announce that this is his consort, his husband, the owner of his heart, and the only one he ever wants near him and the person he cares for most in this world

our precious tsundere king is sliiiggghhttly just trying to guard his heart from breaking because shang qinghua basically sends him every single mixed message in the world and LOOK IT MAKES HIM A LOT INSANE

when he tastes even a whiff of rejection from shang qinghua, mobei jun is ready to close himself off and haughtily sniff "i never liked that human anyway, fuck off. im not crying at all". at the slightest indication that shang qinghua returns his affections, he's ready to throw away almost all of his pride and cling to him desperately

i love him so much. mobei jun is so fucking silly and i love it. he absolutely is mad at shang qinghua and holds a grudge against him (for various reasons). but he's also so down bad for shang qinghua that it's a bit sad lmfaooo

expanding upon my previous thoughts of "shang qinghua totally tricking mobei jun into marrying him without his knowledge", i'd just like to say that i think it's a particularly amazing thought with regards to mobei jun's Very Conflicted Heart in mind

like he's split in equal parts "omg omg omg im his!? he's mine?! WE'RE MARRIED?!?!?! HE LOVES ME?!!? HEAD EMPTY, NEED QINGHUA, WHERE QINGHUA, MUST QINGHUA, LOVE QINGHUA, AHHHHHHHHH, NEED HUSBAND NOW" and ".........im going to kill him. im going to skin him alive. im going to roast him over one of those fires he loves so fucking much and eat his organs in front of him while he pleads for his life. THAT MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT I CANNOT BELIEVE HIM IM GONNA--"

[ohmy-gojo]

megumi x reader with you fell first but he fell harder trope ෆ

— hes always is in his own bubble, hardly noticing people who arent his friends

— he also didnt really care about love and relationships. so when you fell for him and made your advances (flirting, being near him all the time or helping him a bit too much in comparison to your other friends) he really didnt catch it

— you outright had to ask him out. made him blush like crazy tho

— he asked some time from you to think it out and not give you a half assed reply. you of course agreed

— but your relationship with him still didnt change. you continued to try win him over with your silly pick up lines which once used to fly over his head now has his ears turn pink, giving him pretty flowers bc it reminded you of him (he used to think you were just being friendly and gave them to everyone, but no you only gave them to him) and by making him his favorites when he was tired from a mission and unable to cook ("you were just too kind" he always said to his friends who could only shake their heads at his obliviousness)

— now though, after you confessed hes clearly seeing those signs and wonders how you could love him

— and is now starting to see how pretty you are. like dont get him wrong but hes the kind of person who doesnt care about looks at all so he wouldnt really notice your beauty

— after your confession, you seem to make his heart thump everytime someone mentions you. he himself now seeks for your company and spend time with you (which mostly consists of you rambling and him listening to you, but now with much more focus) he wants to know more and more about you

— your attempts at winning him over has now won his heart an hes starting to like you in more than a friends way and eventually you both start dating

— even though megumi cld be a little difficult at expressing himself sometimes but your love for him never wavered. though his inexpressive attitude did make you wonder if he loves you as much you love him

— but unknown to you megumi loves you more than you cld ever imagine. throughout your relationship, he learns how to love you and everyday falls a little deeper

— now feels lonely and sad if youre not there with him, talking to him with his head in your lap and fussing over him after a mission. cant stay without you even for a second, you really got him wrapped around your finger

— so even though he may not express it, he truly, very loves you! just be patient with him for a little while :)

note: hai guys for personal reasons i was ia for some time and missed writing so heres ..something! this will be a series its just the intro thing haha. the series will be 4/5 part-ish so yesss stay tuned and love megumi x

[sturnlsstuff]

FAMILIAR STRANGER | chapter seven

what's gonna happen when you find out about your enemy's biggest secret?

ghostface!chris x enemy!reader

chapter six

— warnings; smut with plot, dom!chris, sub!reader, pet names, bratty reader, cursing, - english isn't my first language.

~~~

chris had been annoyed for almost a week, snapping at everyone around him including his brothers. spending most of his time outside, doing his thing, taking his frustration out on whoever he could. it was starting to get really bad, the constant informations about murders on TV made the whole city live in even bigger fear, feeling someone's breath on their necks. the ghostface killer became everything people could talk about, his name on everyone's tongues. chris would appreciate the attention he's getting since it was always something he'd want, but not in this situation.

he wasn't only mad because you called him out unintentionally, not realizing how right you were. though chris knew and couldn't stop thinking about that he in fact didn't tell you it's just a hook up. he'd tell himself he just wasn't sure, but sure about what? wanting more? ending it? he was just so confused, but also upset noticing you've been ignoring him for the past week without knowing why. was it because you two fucked again? because he's a stupid idiot and left instead of telling you he maybe wants something more? he was obsessed with you since he remembered, only now realizing that.

it was little things, like the way he was always in the room you were in when you came over to see his brothers, even if it was just to argue with you, which he secretly loved. he always kept an eye on you at parties, making sure everything was fine. when it was your birthday he would order pizza to your apartment, knowing how much you loved that food and leaving you wonder who was sending it to you every year. chris knew a lot about you, always checking how you were feeling, sometimes even unintentionally making it worse when you were sad. when he tried to find out why you're in a bad mood, you just shouted at him, which made him angry too and he'd always ruin your mood even more, later regretting it. but he could never apologize, his ego wouldn't let him admit that he somehow cared about you. even if in his own fucked up way. he liked to explain it to himself that it's only because you're important to nick and matt, but really now he realized that maybe there was other reason too. a reason which was scaring the hell out of him.

he doesn't see you anywhere. you're not in the hallways on campus, you're not hanging out with his brothers. he even wants to ask them why but he doesn't want to arouse suspicion. he expects you to text him again for another talk, or even to yell at him for being a moron, but there's nothing.

by tuesday, he's a nervous wreck, pacing around in his room. without realizing it, he's grown accustomed to bumping into you at least once a day, even if it's just for a few minutes. the silence is deafening.

unable to take the uncertainty anymore, chris finds himself standing outside your door, his fist raised to knock. he hesitates, his heart pounding in his chest. what if you don't wanna see him and you tell him to fuck off? you probably will, which is pretty normal for you two, but damn. he believes you're avoiding him and he hates it for some reason.

when he finally decides to knock, the sound echoes in the quiet hallway as he uncomfortably waits, starting to regret that already, his stomach twisting with nerves. when you don't immediately answer, he once again is ready to go and climb through your window, hoping you won't push him out of that, but then the door unlocks and crack opened.

it's pretty clear to see how tired you look, standing there wrapped in a blanket, the hood of your hoodie put over your head. it hits him like a punch in the gut, your hair all messed up, face flushed. a frown appears between his eyebrows, "you're.. sick?"

"as you can see," you answer, met with his intense gaze. you were confused, not expecting him here.

he shifts uncomfortably, stuffing his hands in his pockets, his eyes darting over your face, taking in every detail. "you look like shit."

you roll your eyes, stepping back to let him in, closing the door behind you two when he gets inside. "thank you, that's the nicest thing you said to me in a while," your voice dripping with sarcasm as you go back on the couch where you've been hiding for the last week, tissues scattered on the coffee table. he toes off his shoes, watching as you retreat to the sofa, "you've been ignoring me." he follows you, settling beside you.

you pull the blanket up higher, looking at him in confusion, "no, i was sick. i still am." chris crosses his arms, his brow furrowing skeptical, "convenient timing." he grumbles, "you're always out and 'bout, but suddenly you're sick after you—"

"i what?" you question, but he just shakes his head, suddenly annoyed that he almost said too much. he wasn't gonna let you know he's been thinking about what you said to him last time he was at your place. "nothing really, doesn't matter. m'just sayin'.. whatever," he huffs, looking away. "jus' wanted to see if you're not dying or some shit, that's all."

"awww, how cute," your eyes narrow at him, a small smile plays on your lips. "careful, i'll think you're worried."

"don't piss me off," he mutters. you're curious if he came here to fuck again or is there was another reason, so you bluntly ask, "are you here to hook up again or what, 'cause if you are then i have to disappoint—"

"are you serious?" his face darkens, eyes flashing with irritation almost as he was offended that you can even think he's here only for that. "like, you're in any condition to..."" he gestures vaguely at your blanket-covered form. "-- i came here to check on ya, not to... do whatever." you watch him curiously, tilting your head to the side. catching your stare, he adds, "m'not that much of an asshole."

"hmm— lowkey doubt it..." you hum with a smirk, making him to lost his mind. "so you thought i'm ignoring you and came here to check?"

chris's jaw clenches, he now feels stupid when he knows you weren't avoiding him at all, you just have the flu. "i didn't know what to think a'ight?"

you see something strange in his behavior so you decide to tease him a little more, knowing how annoyed he's gonna get. "it kinda looks like you'd care if i'm mad or not—"

"i don't," he cuts you off, his tone defensive. "i mean, i don't, like... whatever, i don't know, i jus' wanted to see what's your problem with me this time."

"well, i don't have one," you shrug and cough, reaching for tea from the coffee table to take a sip. chris sighs, rubbing his temples in irritation, "yeah, now i know." he looks back at you, his gaze lingering on your flushed face. "you ate anythin'?"

you shake your head, sipping on tea and putting the mug down, "a bit but food kind of disgusts me right now."

"that's dumb as fuck, you won't get better if you—" he sighs giving up, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, a glimmer of genuine concern in his eyes despite his gruff demeanor. "food won't kill ya, got any crackers or somethin'?"

you wave your hand dismissively, "somewhere in the kitchen, but i don't wa—" chris already disappears in your kitchen, muttering under his breath something about stubborn girls and their refusal to listen. he's back not even two minutes later with a box of crackers, setting them between you two on the couch as he settles down next to you again. "eat," he says firmly. "you gotta keep up your strength somehow even if you don't feel like eating," he crosses his arms over his chest, clearly not taking 'no' for an answer.

with another eye roll, you reach out opening the box and pulling out a cracker. he watches with critical eye as you eat, "was that so hard?" you shrug as chris plucks a cracker from the box without asking, popping it into his mouth.

his one arm is draped over the top of the couch, he munches on crackers, his gaze occasionally flicking towards you as you nibble on yours. both of you quiet, he's lost in thought, noticing your heated cheeks just as you sneeze. with a grimace, you mutter, "you're gonna get sick too."

he shrugs nonchalantly, a smirk playing on his lips, "if i do, i do. somebody's gotta take care of your pathetic ass, so--"

"i can take perfect care of myself—" as you say that you sneeze again, reaching for a tissue. you felt gross and him seeing you like this was making it worse.

"right," he shakes his head amused. "a real independent badass. that's why you're sweating your ass off, sneezing and sniffling every two minutes?"

"that's what a sick person does, moron-" you respond, taking another sip of tea. chris rolls his eyes dramatically, "y'know if you weren't so stubborn, i'd feel bad f'ya."

"i don't need that—" another sneeze, your eyes half opened now and slightly reddish. he sighs, watching you, something weird in his chest that he only felt around his brothers before when they were sick. he didn't want to believe he might be worried.

"do you, uh... you're like all red and shit, just— lemme--" he hesitates before reaching out to touch your forehead, checking your temperature. "you're really hot—" he murmurs, then frowns at how it sounded. "i mean your forehead is."

"am i?" you tease him a bit with a small smile, then coughing, your cheeks flush an even brighter red as you do. he rolls his eyes again, "yeah, really funny... you're like burnin' up-" he reaches out to touch your neck, checking for any other signs of a fever. you flinch at the sensation of his cold hand against your heated skin.

he's fast to check your temperature, a few minutes later urging you to put a damp cloth on your forehead and taking some meds he found in your kitchen. he's not used to taking care of anyone and the unfamiliarity of the situation is clearly written on his face. "you're fuckin' out of it... jesus—" he mutters to himself, "fuckin' overheating like crazy... you look so pathetic right now-"

"thanks," your voice dripping with sarcasm as you cough again, removing the hood from your head and adjusting the wet cloth on your skin. you wipe your nose with a tissue, just as he says, "disgusting."

"don't have to tell me things i already know," you tuck yourself more under the blanket. a genuine smile tugging at his lips, "someone's gotta keep you in check." you scoff at that, leaning your head back, eyes watery and barely opened. the fever was clearly getting to you. "gonna sleep?" you answer him with a shrug, so after a moment of silence he asks, "want me to go?"

despite his question, he makes no move to leave, clearly seeing as wheels turn in your head, but it was hard to think in that state. it felt even nice to not be alone right now. "you can stay, is whatever..."

"whatever... right," he repeats, pulling out his phone to occupy himself while you get curled up on the couch, your head close to his thigh.

it's how you both spend another twenty minutes in comfortable silence broken only by your sniffling. chris glances at the tv every now and then, not really paying attention and mostly focusing on his phone, until he hears your barely audible words.

"you think i'm a bitch, but i'd never snitch on you—" you're half asleep, whispering. "not only because matt is involved, but also 'cause it's you.... i can be the only one ruining your life—" another sniff, "if someone else would do that, where's my satisfaction in that?"

he looks at the back of your head, feeling his heart leap into his throat at your words, which you definitely would never say if you weren't in this state.

"good..." he finally speaks up, licking his lips. "good, 'cause, uh— i wouldn't want you to snitch on me... it'd be, y'know— it'd, like, maybe even upset me a lil' bit... i guess-"

he cuts himself off, noticing your body is more relaxed now. his brow furrowed in thought as he leans forward to see your face, your breathing evens out, your body in deep sleep. he glances at your flushed from fever face, your mouth slightly opened as you breathe heavily. chris feels relieved and annoyed at the same time, realizing that you didn't hear his answer.

"fuck that," he curses to himself, nudging the blanket higher up your back and adjusting the damp cloth on your forehead, also checking if you were still burned up. it was late already and you did tell him to stay, but now you were asleep and he had no clue what to do. there was no way he's gonna just leave when you have such a fever. if something happened everyone would blame him. so he stays, telling himself he has to, not because he wants to.

quickly texting his brothers that he's at a "friend's" house and doesn't know when he'll be back, chris hesitantly shifts his position so that he's leaning against the arm of the couch with his legs stretched out behind you. almost as if you knew he's laying beside you or felt the heat radiating from him, you shifted around so he was able to see your face, the way you settle against his thigh makes chris tense at first, unaccustomed to such unguarded, innocent contact. but as you continue to sleep, your arm wrapping around his thighs by itself, head moving to rest on his lap. he's actually frozen, not used to this with anyone, let alone you. he tells himself it's only because you're sick and do stuff you wouldn't usually do. so at some point he finally relaxes, his own eyelids growing heavy while listening to your steady breathing and the quiet sounds from tv.

chris jerks awake at some point during the night, realizing that his arm has gone numb from you sleeping on it and the way you kept coughing. he blinks slowly, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the tv before looking down at you, draped across his lap like a blanket. he gingerly pries your hand off his thigh, hissing at the pins and needles sensation. he massages his arm to get the blood flowing again, his other hand automatically checking your temperature. cooler than before, but still warm. as you shift in your sleep, coughing again, a flicker of concern passes chris's face before it's quickly replaced by his usual scowl. he debates whether to wake you or let you sleep, knowing that rest is probably best for your recovery, but once your head falls off his lap, he knows he has to wake you up. he catches your head before it hits the cushion, gently putting it back onto his lap.

he props himself on one elbow, giving your shoulder a gentle shake, "hey, kid— wake up--" he watches as your eyebrows furrow in your sleep, head rolling from side to side on his lap. he sighs, shaking you a little harder, "wake up, would ya?"

once your eyelids flutter open, finding his face, he explains gruffly, "you keep coughing in your sleep."

you rub your eyes confused like a sleepy child, "what time is it?" chris glances at his phone, squinting slightly, "almost four in the mornin'." he grumbles, tucking his phone back into his pocket, "you've been out for a while."

"oh," you grimace at the thought, sitting up to grab the cold now tea from the coffee table. you take a sip, sighing with relief when your throat automatically feels less dry. chris watches you so intensely that you finally look at him, noticing his messy hair and flushed cheeks, realizing he had to sleep with you here. "you, uh– wanna go? nick and matt are probably--"

"i texted 'em that i'll be late," he cuts you off. "i don' really feel like leaving now. unless you want me to go."

surprisingly for not only you, but chris himself, you shake your head, putting the mug down. "move..."you shift, the damp cloth from your forehead falling down. chris catches it as you move higher on the couch, he obediently shifts sideways, wincing slightly as his joints protest the movement. he glances at you, noting the weariness etched into your features.

"uh, m'gonna go get this wet, you're kinda burnin' up still—"

"no-" you take the material from him, throwing it somewhere aside. you were not having it, all you wanted is to go back to sleep and the heat radiating from chris's body was enough to put you in that state again.

he remains silent almost as waiting for your next move, you wriggle out of the blanket, a faint sheen of sweat on your forehead. he raises his eyebrow, a mix of amusement and concern, "ain't you gettin' a lil' bit too comfortable?"

"can you shut up?" you mutter, chris's gaze drifting down to your midriff noticing that your hoodie has ridden up. he hesitates briefly before reaching out to pull the fabric back down, tugging it securely around your figure. you both are laying on your sides, facing each other, you curled up with your head slightly touching his shoulder. chris shifts awkwardly, realizing he's essentially spooning you on this tiny couch. "cozy, huh?" he asks dryly, trying to ignore how natural this close contact feels. "mhm..." you're already drifting off, nuzzling closer, not letting him get up at all, so he's not even trying.

you're fast to fall asleep, but he's up for some more minutes. barely awake he inhales sharply as he feels your arm wrapping around his waist in your sleep. he frowns, looking at you through half-opened eyes, before somehow relaxing, resigned to this intimate position. "drivin' me fuckin' crazy..." he mutters to himself, then carefully repositions himself, so he's half-lying against you, his body providing some semblance of comfort and warmth. his hand somehow ends up stroking your hair as his body lull into a light sleep, telling himself he's doing all that to make you feel better, to help you cool down, but part of him knows it's bullshit. he'd never expect himself to end up cuddling anyone, let alone you or playing some kind of nurse but here he is.

waking up a few hours later hits chris like a truck, the cuddling felt like a fever dream even if he wasn't the one who was sick. he's laying there almost frozen, waiting for you to wake up which you do almost an hour after him.

he feels you stir awake and glances down at you , your face scrunched up slightly, a grimace on your lips. "fuckin' finally, i was getting tired of being your personal pillow-" his voice laced with mockery as he tries to keep casual the fact that you two were all over each other all night. not in the way he's used to, at least.

confusion is written all over your face as you open your eyes and realize you're practically glued to his side. you look up, noticing his face is too close to yours, so you're fast to almost immediately removing your hands from him and prop yourself up on your elbow to put some distance between the two of you.

his expression was unreadable, "clung to me like a koala or some shit..." he studies your face, taking in the way your hair is plastered to your forehead with sweat, you're slightly pale now, dark circles evident under your eyes.

"my bad," that's all you say before he simply puts his hand on your cheeks, making your heart skip a beat. "no fever," he states. "--at least i guess so." you reply with a nod, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. you felt much better, but mentally strange knowing that chris stayed the night and took care of you. plus you looked disgusting, all sweaty, which now made the embarrassment grown within you.

"i should shower-"

"yeah, you should," he says sarcastically causing you to give him a typical for you death stare. he adds with a smirk, "what? you do smell like a sick person..."

"alright, i'm aware, thanks," you roll your eyes. the tension in the room was filled with unspoken words and something strange you couldn't name. chris runs a hand through his hair and stands up, "m'gonna go if you feel better now." you glance at him when he adds, "unless y'want me to get you somethin', like, make tea or whatever. can be even a kick in the ass–"

"ha, ha, real funny," you mutter but the corner of your lips twitches in amusement. "no, i'm good. emma is supposed to come later today soo..."

he nods and moves towards the door, before your full of hesitation voice stops him. "hey, chris-" he looks over his shoulder, "thanks."

surprise flickers in his eyes but he's quick to hide it, "yeah, no big deal."

though as he was leaving, you could've sworn he crack a little smile.

—

chris spent the rest of the day overthinking, which quickly turned into irritation, and he finally decided he just needs advice. he couldn't take being alone with these thoughts anymore. someone has to agree with him that he still doesn't like you and he doesn't want more than physical stuff.

that's how he ended up in matt's room.

matt was looking at his brother with blank expression, more shocked that chris finally admitted that he hooked up with you more than the fact it actually happened.

"the fuck do you mean by that?" chris is taken back after telling matt everything what was going on between him and you, and all he got in response was a simple "i knew."

"i mean, that i knew it'd happen at some point... but it's still kinda crazy to think about."

"yeah, you don't say," chris rolls his eyes, shifting uncomfortably on the wheel chair and clearing his throat. "but is, like, we fucked twice already, yeah? but i ended up this night at her place and we didn't do it again."

"she didn't want to anymore?"

"no— no, is not that... she was sick." matt looks at his brother in confusion, questioning, "sick?" chris nods, "yeah, had a fuckin' fever so i helped her out 'n shit."

"helped her- like how?"

"how?" chris gives him a stare, "the fuck do you think? gave her some meds, put some damp cloth on her head so the fever would go away. that's how."

matt blinks slowly, trying to process everything what he's hearing now, before asking carefully, "so- wait, so do you like her or...?"

"what? no- i— of course not–- she's just hot, that's all..." chris stumbles over his words at matt's blunt question even if he himself was thinking of that too much for his liking. and he needed his brother to tell him it doesn't look like chris likes you at all.

"so it's only physical?"

"i... i guess-- like, yeah. only physical."

"but you slept at her place and took care of her, so how is it only physical?"

chris felt like he was talking to a dumbass, literally. for him it was clear as day. he gets a bit defensive, "bro, i fuckin' went to her place and saw her lookin' all shitty, burnin' up. what'd you want me to do?"

"you could call me or nick," matt raises his eyebrow. "if you found her in that state, you could call anyone, but you decided to take care of her."

chris feels his blood boil at the sudden call out, only now realizing that it was true. he could've called his brothers or even emma, but his first thought was to just stay with you.

he remains silent, clenching his jaw immediately regretting everything he told matt, because now it was making everything worse. though matt doesn't back up and asks, "why did you even go to her place? to hook up again?"

chris runs his hand through his hair in frustration, avoiding his brother's gaze. "nah, i was actually... uh, i kind of thought she was ignorin' me so i wanted to check—" he catches matt's stare, adding, "jus' didn't see her for a week, i was confused."

"and what if she was ignoring you? aren't you already used to that?"

"is different now—"

"why?"

"what, why?! 'cause i fucked her and she was all silent 'n i thought i— that-- i don't know, i just... had to make sure we're good."

"okay," matt fights the urge to smile. "okay, so was she ignoring you?"

"no, dumb fuck, she was sick." matt replies with a nod and can't hold back a smirk, leaning against the headboard. his expression and the silence pissed chris off even more. he snaps, "what the fuck would you do, like actually?! 'n don't say this bullshit that i could call someone, 'cause yeah i could, but i didn't. so what, you expected me to leave her? would you leave?"

"the difference is that she's my friend," matt says calmly, clearly enjoying this situation. "-- and you claim to hate her."

"but m'not a dick, a'ight? if you hated someone but saw them in that state, would you not care at all?"

"not really," he retorts bluntly making chris scoff. "i wouldn't take care of 'em but i'd call someone who i know would do it."

"oh, fuck you," chris rolls his eyes annoyed. "whatever. it doesn't matter anyway."

"i guess it does if you're telling me all that," he retorts. "so are you sure it's only physical?"

fuck. matt was supposed to help him, but all the things he said made chris even more confused. it helped him realize that maybe he did care a little about you, which was irritating as fuck to him. a frown appears between his eyebrows as he ignores the question and asks instead, "wait, but how did you know? that me and her might..."

"oh, that? please," matt waves his hand dismissively. "you're my brother, she's my friend, it was quite clear to tell with the constant back and forth you two have and the tension that comes with it. besides, she found out that you're the ghostface and she didn't say shit. in my opinion it's not because of me and the fact i'm involved too, i think she deadass doesn't want you to be in trouble. so something is up."

his words trigger a strange wave of emotions in chris, reminding him of what you told him while you were half-conscious and falling asleep. you didn't want him to have any problems or for something to happen to him, that's the reason why you're still quiet about what he's doing.

he came to matt's room for a simple advice but was leaving even more confused and annoyed, realizing everything he was always so scared of, was becoming reality.

a/n: i kinda hate everything i write lately so for me this chapter is so... 🧍‍♀️😐 sigh...... i'll try to post the next (and last !!) chapter before new year's. hope y'all had good christmas !! 🤍

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house (chapter 2) - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember nowwritten for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

It’s freezing when you step out of the community center, and only the fact that Chihiro’s waiting for you to pick her up at school prevents you from going right back in and borrowing a scarf and gloves from the bin of spares. You knew you should have dressed more warmly, but you didn’t realize there’d be so much wind. By the time you make to the car, your teeth are chattering, and the car always takes longer to warm up than you want it to. You moved to Hokkaido nineteen years ago because it was the last place anyone would look for you, and no one’s found you yet. You just wish the price of privacy didn’t include freezing your ass off in the moonless polar night.

You think Chihiro worries about you a little less lately. You’ve gone to a month of pottery classes, and you make sure to respond to messages in the PTA moms’ group text every so often, and once when Kaori’s crazy mom asked you to get tea, you agreed. You left that conversation feeling like you’d been through a tornado, but the important thing is that you’re trying. That Chihiro sees you trying. That when she moves away for school, her worry for you won’t hold her back.

Her comment about you not having friends hit a little too close to home, and it’s still hanging around in your head. You used to have friends — Tomura’s friends, and some of your own. You loved them. You know they loved you. Half the reason you survived Tomura’s arrest and trial was because they were with you, suffering the same way, helpless to stop anything that was happening and trying all the same. Knowing all of that, it makes even less sense that you ran from them afterward.

But that’s always been who you are. When you’re hurt, when you’re scared, when you’re sad, you pull back from the world. You don’t like having your feelings where other people could see, and if you didn’t like having your feelings in front of anybody, there was no way you were having your baby in front of Tomura’s friends. You weren’t interested in how they felt about it. You didn’t want to hear what they’d say. And you didn’t want them involved, constantly circling, reminding you of everything you lost. Reminding your baby, once they were old enough to understand. Your new new job (you lost the first new one), your apartment, your friends, your city — it all started to feel like a prison. You could run, so you did.

Lately, though, you’ve been thinking about them. Enough to look them up and see that Toga’s a fairly well-known costume designer, and wish you could talk sewing with her; find out that Dabi’s doing okay, when you’d been worried ever since you met him that he’d wind up in prison; learn that Spinner’s a writer with a popular series of detective novels, famous for mercilessly skewering the police over their incompetence and corruption. You’ve thought about reaching out, seeing if they know anything about Tomura’s situation, if they’ve heard anything from him. Then you decided it wasn’t worth it. You don’t want to find out that he’s spent nineteen years talking to them and not to you.

Your car finally warms up. You take a deep breath, shove the thought of your old friends away, and drive.

Someone’s car spun out on the route you planned to take to the high school, and you call Chihiro to let her know you’ll be a little late. She doesn’t answer, but she probably just busy. The choir director is kind of a hardass, but Chihiro worships the ground she walks on, and she’d never interrupt a rehearsal for something like a call from her probably-clingy mom. You are a little clingy. You just don’t ever want her to wonder where you are. To spend even a second doubting that you’ll be there when she needs you.

You get to the school, park, and switch idly between channels on the radio, skipping away whenever you hear a snatch of the news. The choir kids trickle out of school slowly, talking through chattering teeth, and scatter to their parents’ cars. You watch for Chihiro, knowing that she stays late to talk to the choir director sometimes. But then the lights in the music room go out. The choir director steps out, locking the door behind her, and fear like you’ve never experienced in your life floods through you.

It feels like acid in your veins. You lurch out of your car and get in the director’s way as she heads for hers. “Where’s Chihiro?”

“She left at the break,” the director says. “Typically I don’t allow it, but she’s an excellent student and she’s never asked before —”

Chihiro left. Chihiro left school an hour ago. You can barely speak. “What happened? Did she get sick? Why didn’t you call me —”

“She said she would,” the director says, bewildered. “She didn’t?”

“If she’d called me, I’d have picked her up already.” Your voice stutters, fractures. “What happened?”

“She and her friends were discussing something. A news article, I think. I doubt that’s what caused it.” The director is frowning now, disconcerted to your terrified. “When we resumed practice, she was distraught, and asked to be excused early.”

Distraught. You’ve never heard anybody use that word to describe your daughter. “Did she say why?”

“She needed to go home. She said it was a family emergency.”

A family emergency? You’re her family. Your parents passed away when she was in middle school and you and your brother haven’t spoken in years. What family is she talking about? You don’t need that answer right now. You need to find her. “Thank you,” you choke out, and run back to your car.

You and she live five miles outside of town — on a big road that gets plowed and salted, sure, but still outside of town. Could she walk all the way home in an hour? You don’t think so. Not in this weather. And you can’t think of anywhere else she would go. You drive slowly, carefully along the road, your heart rising into your throat at each bend in the road and sinking when the stretch of road ahead of you continues to be empty. Your mind twists in agony. A family emergency. What does that even mean? It crosses your mind that it’s the perfect excuse, one no teacher would ever refuse a student like Chihiro — but why wouldn’t she call you? Why would she start walking home in the dark? What is there that she thinks she can’t bring to you, that you wouldn’t help her with? You’d do anything for her. You just have to find her, and you’ll figure it out.

You catch up to her halfway home, her hands jammed into her pockets and her shoulders hunched against the cold, her breath billowing out in a frozen cloud. The relief of finding her lasts for only a second. Now you need to get her home. You flip on your hazard lights and slow to a crawl alongside her, rolling down your window. “Chihiro, get in the car!”

She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t even look your way. “I’m so glad I found you, but I don’t understand,” you say. “You must be freezing. Why didn’t you call me? I was so scared –”

You’re making this about you. It’s not about you. “Chihiro, please get in the car. I just want you to be safe. I love you —”

“Shut up!” She wheels on you, and you hit the brakes, more in shock than anything else. Your daughter’s eyes are swollen and bloodshot with tears, and her lips are cracked and bleeding in the cold. Her mouth is turned down like you haven’t seen it in more than a decade, but her eyes are hot with rage. “Don’t come near me. Don’t even talk to me. I didn’t call you because I hate you. I hate you! How could you do that to me?”

“Do what?” you ask.

“Lie,” Chihiro spits, or sobs. “How long were you going to lie to me, Mom? Were you ever going to tell me the truth about my dad?”

Your stomach drops. How did she find out? How many people know? “I never lied,” you say. “I never told you he was dead. I always told you —”

“He’s gone.” Chihiro’s nose is dripping. She looks frozen. “Don’t play that stupid game. You knew what I thought you meant when you say that, and you just let me think — you were always going to let me think he was —”

“How did you find out?”

“That’s all you care about? I hate you —”

Right now, you hate yourself, too. It hurts to hear Chihiro say that, hurts to know she’s so angry with you that she’d rather freeze than spend even a second in the car with you — but your feelings don’t matter right now. They stopped mattering nineteen years ago. This is about your daughter. You shove your feelings to one side. “You hate me,” you repeat, and she scoffs. “You can hate me just as much in the car as you can out there, and the car is warm.”

Chihiro squints at you as she wipes her eyes. “It’s not that far. I can walk.”

“Yeah. But it’ll take you another hour, and it’ll just keep getting colder.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I won’t try to talk to you. In the car or when we’re home. Just — please, get in the car, Chihiro. You don’t have to hurt yourself to let me know you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry, Mom. This is way beyond angry.” Chihiro takes a deep breath and coughs on the cold air. “If you try to talk to me, I’m getting out again.”

You don’t deserve to feel relieved, but you do. You put the car in park and unlock the passenger-side door. “Okay.”

The drive home is awful, but at least it’s brief. The first thing Chihiro does after taking off her shoes and coat is head straight for the bathroom. The water switches on in the shower, and you’ll bet it’s scalding hot. She must be so cold. And so angry with you, angry enough to override her better judgment and drive her out onto the road alone. Is she right about you? Were you ever going to tell her the truth about Tomura? You don’t know. But you should have seen this coming, somehow. You could have seen it coming, would have, if you were doing anything but hiding from your own pain. Of course Chihiro’s furious with you. You deserve it.

Deserving it doesn’t make it hurt any less, so like always, you find something to keep you busy. You set out clean pajamas for Chihiro on her bed. Then you finish folding the laundry, emptying the dishwasher, folding the quilts that are still strewn across the couch from Chihiro’s movie night with Kaori over the weekend. After that it’s time to sew, and even with the focus paper-piecing takes and the noise of the sewing machine, you can’t shut out a single question: How did she find out?

The water in the shower shuts off. You hear Chihiro’s footsteps in the hallway, then the sound of her bedroom door shutting. Shutting, not slamming. You abandon your sewing machine, planning to go to your bedroom and stay there, leaving her the kitchen and the living room and not coming out until she goes to sleep. You don’t want her to have to look at you. Or maybe you just don’t want to see how she looks at you now.

The thought stops you at the threshold. You’ve made everything about what’s happened into something about you. Who are you helping by going to hide? Yourself. You’re protecting yourself from your daughter’s anger, which she deserves to express, and from the questions she probably wants to ask, which you should have answered a long time ago. You can’t hide. You need to stay here and be the person — the parent — you should have been all along. Even if it’s too late.

You hear the bedroom door open, but you don’t turn, and Chihiro comes closer with soft footsteps. She stops at the edge of the kitchen. “What are you doing?”

“Making hot chocolate. Do you want some?”

“You’re being weird,” Chihiro says. She sounds unnerved. “I told you I hate you. Why aren’t you yelling? You’re not even crying. Do you even care?”

Your heart breaks a little bit, even as a surge of frustration rocks you. “It hurts to hear you say that,” you admit. No more lying. From here on out, you tell the truth. “But I don’t think it hurts as much as finding out your mom’s been lying to you for eighteen years.”

Chihiro’s quiet. She’s quiet, and you’re not trying to downplay what you did or run away from it, so you ask a question of your own. “How did you find out?”

The electric kettle goes off with a click. “The water’s done,” Chihiro says. “Are you making hot chocolate or not?”

She reminds you so much of Tomura — that same bluntness, that same impatience, that same affinity for cutting the knot. “Yeah. And some for you.”

Once you’ve both got your cups, you head to the living room. Chihiro unfolds all the blankets you folded earlier and burrows into them, and you sit in the armchair and pull your feet up and away from the floor. She watches you over the rim of her cup. “It’s weird when you do that,” she says. “It makes you look really young.”

It’s quiet for a second. “I guess you are kind of young. They said in school that most people don’t have kids until they’re thirty, and you were only twenty-two when you had me.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Four years older than you.”

It sounds wrong when you say it. Too young. Way too young. Chihiro looks unsettled. “I wouldn’t have a kid when I was twenty-two,” she says. “Why did you?”

You take a sip of hot chocolate, trying to calm your nerves. “I’ll tell you that and everything else. I want to know how you found out first.”

Chihiro’s eyes narrow, but to your surprise, she answers. “Takako at school — she watches that true-crime show. The one you don’t let me watch.”

“I never said you couldn’t watch it. I just said not on the TV out here,” you say. Chihiro rolls her eyes. “Your computer in your room is fair game.”

“My computer doesn’t get cable.”

“So pirate it,” you say with a shrug, and Chihiro nearly chokes on her next sip of hot chocolate. “I never said you couldn’t watch it at all.”

“Yeah. Like you never actually said my dad was dead,” Chihiro says. Ouch. “Do you want me to tell you or what? She watches that show, and you’re not the only mom who’s weird about it, so she tells us all about the episodes when they come out. I guess this week’s episode was about this guy Shigaraki Tomura who killed his whole family, and how he’s been on death row longer than anybody else in Japan. So we looked him up to see if he’s still alive — I guess the episodes get made in advance — and there were pictures of him at his trial. He has the same birthmark I do.”

You nod. “And the same eyes. Ever since you were a baby.”

Chihiro looks down into her cup. “One of my friends joked about it. I thought it was funny, so I laughed. But then I was thinking about it, and the — timing, I guess. And I realized you never said he was dead. My whole life, that was what I thought, but it wasn’t what you said.”

She takes another sip of hot chocolate. “I was looking at the pictures. From the trial, and you were in them. Your hair looked different, but I knew it was you. And I guess I — there was this one picture. From his sentencing. You’re holding his hands.”

You hadn’t realized someone snapped a photo, but you should have known. Your fingers still ache from the memory. Chihiro looks up, her eyes glassy again. “It’s him, isn’t it? My dad’s Shigaraki Tomura.”

“That’s him,” you say. You can’t call your voice steady. Flat might be better. “What do you want to know?”

“Why,” Chihiro says at once. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“There were a lot of reasons,” you say. “I think my main one was trying to protect you.”

“From him?”

“No,” you say. “From everybody else. I don’t know if you read any of the articles about the trial, but the way they talked about him — and about me — was awful. People treated me differently, and I was just his girlfriend. I didn’t want anybody to do anything to you because of who your father was.”

“I got in fights anyway. Because I didn’t have a dad.” Chihiro’s voice is dull. “Maybe if they’d known who he was it would have been different.”

“Maybe.” You take a sip of your own hot chocolate, even though it’s getting hard to swallow. “That was part of it. Part of it was that I didn’t want you to grow up with that hanging over your head. Knowing that your dad was on death row and not even being able to visit him.”

“You said he didn’t know about me. Was that a lie, too?”

“I tried to tell him,” you say. “I called, and wrote letters, and tried to visit — he never wanted to see me. And he never answered.”

Your voice wavers slightly. You don’t try to fight it. Fighting it makes it worse. “I wanted to. He wouldn’t let me.”

Chihiro looks disturbed. “So that picture —”

“That’s the last time I saw him,” you say, and Chihiro’s expression collapses. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry about that.” Chihiro lets go of her cup to wipe her eyes. “Why else didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was selfish,” you say. It hurts to admit it, to admit that what you swore you were doing for Chihiro’s own good was for you all along. But you have to be honest. You’ve lied to her, by omission or on purpose, enough for a lifetime. “I didn’t want to think about what happened. Any of it. And if you didn’t know — if nobody knew — then I wouldn’t have to talk about it ever again.”

Chihiro wipes her eyes a second time. You keep talking, your throat aching more in every word. “I didn’t wake up one morning and decide not to tell you about Tomura. It just happened —”

“And kept happening. For eighteen years.”

She’s not going to let you get away with anything. The fact that you know she shouldn’t doesn’t make it any less frustrating. “Yeah. Eighteen years. I did it because it would make things easier, for me. Because it wouldn’t hurt as much, for me. I was thinking a lot about me and I should have been thinking about you.”

Chihiro looks away. “Do you think he did it?”

“Chihiro —”

“He confessed,” Chihiro says. “He said he did it.”

Yeah, Tomura confessed. They interrogated him for twenty days straight before they got anything out of him, and when you came to visit him again before the trial, he looked like something had broken inside of him. He seemed out of it, too. He barely recognized you, barely knew you were there. You don’t know what they did to him in there, but you trust that confession even less than you trust the testimony his adoptive father gave. “He confessed,” Chihiro repeats, her voice rising. She fumbles her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it one-handed. “Do you think he did it?”

She’s looking something up. You remember all at once how Chihiro stumbled on him in the first place. “Did they execute him? Chihiro, tell me —”

“Do you think he did it?” she demands, and you shake your head. You were there at the trial. Every day. You never saw anything that made you believe he was guilty. Chihiro squeezes her eyes shut and holds out her phone towards you. “You were right.”

Some part of you registers what she just said, but it doesn’t stick. It bounces off the surface and vanishes, because Chihiro has a news site open, with a bright red BREAKING NEWS banner across the top. SHIGARAKI TOMURA EXONERATED AFTER NINETEEN YEARS ON DEATH ROW.

You spend one wild second panicking at the sight of an “ex” word in the same sentence as Tomura’s name and “death row”, but then you force yourself to go back. Exonerated. Not executed, exonerated. You lift the phone out of Chihiro’s hands and she lets you take it — with a caveat. “Read it out loud, okay? So I know we both saw the same thing.”

You start reading, your voice rattling. “In a time of rising crime, escalating drug trafficking, and a loss of trust in our institutions, the accused mass murderer Shigaraki Tomura became the avatar for Japan’s worst nightmares: A remorseless killer, hiding amongst the innocent, ready to strike at any time. Those who questioned the scant evidence the prosecutor provided were ridiculed. Those who believed that his confession to the murders of his parents, his grandparents, and his older sister was the product of coercion were reviled. Nineteen years later, they and the man they spoke up for have seen justice served.”

Your eyes are burning. You blink back tears and keep reading. “In a stunning but well-reasoned decision released on Monday afternoon, the Supreme Court reversed all seven murder convictions against Shigaraki Tomura in light of new evidence uncovered in the course of an entirely different investigation. Midoriya Izuku, a prosecutor turned human-rights advocate, became interested in Shigaraki’s case while working to restore another inmate’s right to visits from his adoptive father — fuck!”

Chihiro looks up. “Huh?”

“Sorry. It’s just — he called me,” you say. “Midoriya Izuku. He’s been calling. I didn’t know why.”

“It’s weird when you swear,” Chihiro notes. You mumble an apology. “Keep reading.”

“Upon reviewing the available evidence and pursuing new investigations, Midoriya made a motion for a retrial, which was granted by the Supreme Court and conducted under terms of absolute secrecy in order to avoid the media circus that ensued during Shigaraki’s original trial. The Court has agreed to release all documents related to Shigaraki’s case and is expected to do so within the next twenty-four hours. Some sources have indicated that a different suspect in the Shimura family’s murders has already been taken into custody, but no official confirmation has been received.”

Your hands are shaking now, so hard you almost drop Chihiro’s phone in your cup of hot chocolate. “Mom?” Chihiro says, and you look up, blinking hard. “Do you know who they arrested?”

Your first inclination is to ask why she thinks you of all people would know, but you clamp down on that. Even though the world’s just been yanked out from beneath your feet, your daughter is still the injured party. And when you think about it, you do have some idea of who it is. “His adoptive dad. He was the one who had custody of Tomura when the murders happened, and he was really excited to cooperate with the investigation.”

“Custody?” Chihiro repeats. “How old was he when he — when they died?”

“Fifteen,” you say. “If you’re older than fourteen when you commit a crime, they can try you as an adult.”

“You think his fake dad set him up,” Chihiro says. You nod. “Is there more to read?”

“A little bit.”

Chihiro scoots over on the couch, making a space, and you sit down next to her. She has to wake up her phone again for you to keep reading, and you get the jumpscare of SHIGARAKI TOMURA EX- a second time before scrolling down to where you left off. “Although a release date has not been announced publicly, it is the view of this magazine that Shigaraki should be released from prison as quickly as possible. He has paid a debt to society that was never owed in the first place. When Shigaraki Tomura is released from Fuchu Prison, he will walk out a free man. Society’s atonement for the crime it committed against him is only beginning.”

You glance at the byline out of habit. This article was written by Kizuki Chitose, and if you remember right, the last article she wrote about Tomura struck a pretty different note. She’d better start atoning right now. You’d be happy to help. Balling up every single scathing editorial and hit job she wrote and jamming them down her throat feels like it would be a good start.

“It’s real,” Chihiro says. You nod. “He’s getting out.”

You nod again. You’re with Kizuki on wanting Tomura to be released as quickly as possible. You’re just not sure what happens next.

Chihiro’s thinking along the same lines. “Mom, what are we going to do?”

“We’ll figure it out,” you promise her. She leans in against your side, and some horrible part of you exults. With the chaos that’s about to unfold, Chihiro can’t afford to hate you any longer — or if you stop thinking about it like an asshole, she doesn’t know what’s going to happen and you’re the person she turns to. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know any more than she does. You’re the adult, but something happened to you when you read that headline. Somehow it feels like no time has passed at all; like he was just torn away from you, like you’re a lonely, hopeless twenty-two-year-old with a baby on the way all over again.

But you aren’t. You made it this far. Your baby turned eighteen this year, and you managed to raise her close enough to right. “We’ll figure it out,” you promise her again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“Maybe you were right,” Chihiro mumbles. “It would have been harder if I knew all this time.”

You think so. It’s still not an excuse. You wrap your arm around your daughter’s shoulders and hug her closer, relieved beyond words when she doesn’t pull away. You’ll take care of her first — make sure she eats, make sure she gets some sleep, because you know from experience how much harder everything becomes without it. And after she’s fallen asleep, you’ll finally return Midoriya Izuku’s calls.

<- Chapter 1

[loving-family-poll]

Omg we can send you weirdcest confessions? I have a little classic codependent dynamic with my younger brother which might tickle some people.

Soooo, I moved half way across the country many years ago because prior to that I had been sharing a 1 room apartment (a bed too but very kosher I promise, rent is just expensive) with my brother for years as I pushed him to finish highschool and start college classes and just looked out for him so that he didn't get lost in the shuffle when my parents divorced because he was the youngest.

The thing is that by the time he was an adult, I never wanted to give him up. Like, if we could go to old age as a duo, I would have been happy. I had a lot of angst that I wouldn't let him mature so I did something weird and dramatic - I moved the fuck across the country, pretty much dropped out of his life just when he had reached adulthood and left him.

It was kind of a stone cold thing to do, but I moved in with someone I was dating online and went through a whole relationship till that ended. On the other hand, it was none too soon because at that point he kept trying to share his porn collection with me and mentally I was like, dude, i know this trope, I invented it.

tbh he really missed me so much and vice versa. I think both of us experienced a level of loneliness we never would have felt if I hadn't just arbitrarily decided it was bad if I let us stay co-dependent. I don't really know if it was justified. The few times we visited each other over the years, we basically just cuddled and missed each other and moped about being sad.

But it worked? He stuck like glue to a large group of friends and even started dating one of them, the girl who would eventually become his fiance.

This woman. I hated her for years. I thought she was terrible for him. She was too attractive and too cool tempered and too intelligent, and I just thought she was going to break his heart eventually. But, somehow they worked out, and when I moved back to my hometown she lured me in like a scared alley cat by making me feel welcome in the gentlest of ways, never overwhelming, an introvert's overture to another introvert.

My brother and I used to mildly flirt with each other pretty often as a joke, and he still does, although I try not to encourage it. It's a little too on the nose, right? If you scratch me, I bleed incest fandom. But these days its usually his fiance making jokes that I should be the filling in a them sandwhich (sit between them) because they want to "share me" My brother's fiance is ace or I would be a lot more freaked out about that tbh. I think they just both like to make me blush, which I can't blame them for.

NGL, I think she is pleased to have achieved two brothers for the price of one.

I thank god she is ace, because she is a menace - in one afternoon she will ask me to lather her back with sunscreen, invite me to check out at her bottom (for ticks) and cheerfully command me to smack her boob (there was a fly,) all while my brother is there watching and laughing as I flounder in queer panic.

In a more concrete fashion, they want me to move in with them when they buy their house and cosign on it and everything. So I guess I am getting what I wanted, but it's a trio instead of a duo.

Bruh I think they want to fuck you

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: How They Comfort Their Significant Other 

Marko

I could see his S/O having some tough skin, so it’s on the rarer side that Marko would have to comfort them because they got their feelings hurt or someone made fun of them 

 They would need comforting for art critiques though 

Like I’ve mentioned in previous posts, Marko is drawn to creative energy, so it likely that his S/O would be an artist of some kind 

Anyways 

They don’t take criticism lightly, so when a local art critic calls their painting “a mess of lines and colors attempting to be art” they are CRUSHED

Like they refuse to leave the pigeon hole, and Marko has to bring all their meals to them for a week 

Lucky for this S/O though 

Marko is a supportive and a loyal KING 

That man brings you your meals, and lets you cry it out 

He lets you sleep all day and all night, and stays right by your side, giving plenty of little “it’s okay, I’m here” kisses 

Then, when you’ve gotten all that “sappy stuff” out of your system he wants you to get MAD

He wants you to get ANGRY 

He wants you to form a very detailed, long winded revenge plan, with some nice artistic touches! 

He loves bonding with you over art, so throw in a dash of revenge and it’s the perfect date night 

Paul 

 Paul tends to not take things seriously, and is the Prince of Teasing 

That being said he can take it too far 

He won’t notice that you are upset right away, because he probably got distracted by something shiny, or is currently trying to see how many little objects he can get in Marko’s hair without him noticing 

One of the boys would probably have to point out to him that you are upset 

If you're upset about something that he said, then he is quick to point out that he may be pretty but he’s also pretty stupid 

He will apologize right away 

Dwayne 

Dwayne’s S/O I could see being on the sensitive  side 

Comments people say about them bother them all the time, but they would never call the person out for it or tell Dwayne (though Dwayne can usually tell anyways) 

They care very deeply for their found family and don’t want to cause conflict, so they find it easier to keep moments of distress and sadness to themself 

But 

There is one topic they are particularly touchy about

Their body image 

Even the slightest comment about how they look or what they are eating can dig its claws into their subconscious 

Dwayne didn’t know this at first, and he shamefully admits it took him awhile to understand why these comments upset you so much 

But, in Dwayne fashion he educates himself on the topic so he can teach himself how to best support you 

He watches you like a hawk so that he can learn the facial expressions you make when someone makes a comment that makes you uncomfortable 

Or how you voice changes when your holding back tears 

The boys have no filter *cough cough Marko & Paul* so there have been a few comments made by them

Like one time you all were grabbing ice cream, and you got three scoops instead of your typically two  because you were FEELING ice cream that night and Paul made a comment 

“ Wooh, you better watch your figure! A moment on the lips, forever on the hips!” 

Now, Paul said it as a stupid joke and didn’t put much thought to it

You on the other hand couldn’t eat the ice cream after he said it

Dwayne PROMPTLY dragged Paul by the scruff of his collar out of ear shot, and ripped the poor man a new one

They didn’t realize how much it bothered you till that night, and none of the boys have ever made a comment like that again 

Dwayne would encourage you to eat the ice cream, but he wouldn’t pressure you. 

He would stay close throughout the night, and would only talk about it if you wanted to 

You would walk along the beach, side by side, and point out constellations together till you felt ready to talk 

He wants you to feel confident in your body, because this man thinks your the most ethereal woman he has ever laid eyes on, and he knows that confidence  lays right under your surface 

He is always whispering compliments in your ear from then on 

They always make you blush, but they do help you feel beautiful and remind you that you are loved and seen 

David 

Their significant other hates feeling dumb 

They are an intelligent, fierce being; who unfortunately really struggled with academics from elementary school to high school 

They worked hard through college though! stuff doesn’t come easy to them

They just try, try, and try till they get it right 

Their relentless 

That doesn’t mean their childhood trauma of feeling stupid had gone away though

David would never call his S/O stupid after learning this, unless, of course, he deems that they are indeed acting stupid. (Which in his eyes happens often) 

He can be an insensitive jerk so whenever you two get in a fight it’s the first blow he gives 

He knows it hurts you, that why he said it 

He always regrets it afterwards though 

He thinks giving you space afterward will comfort you, but that’s not what you want 

Comfort starts with an apology 

And he is the king of apologies 

He would find you laying on the couch with puffy, red eyes, staring at the ceiling 

He would lay down next to you, and proceed to give you the most well thought out and meaningful apology you have ever heard 

Only to you though 

No one else gets an apology from him 

His only regrets are the ones where you get hurt

[nicoleanell]

(actual link to gif set because tumblr's being weird)

Man it's the fact this statement is weirdly big and generous and brave in Armand's mind. I think it was Assad or someone else who said it was a moment of overconfidence or almost gloating, which is not the exact vibe I get, but I think there's something to that big-headedness of having survived and gotten through it and it's over now and just... He just wants to see. He just wants to skip that little stone down the cliff and see what happens. Maybe if nothing happens *then* he would actually be able to exhale. (He will not. He'd find something else. There's an itch in him that's never going to be secure enough in the bed he made.) Maybe it's just wanting to test something - Louis or himself or how many ways he can't die.

People tie it directly to Armand not being able to say the words in 2x05, which is probably intentional, but also it's not *exactly* the same because for one thing it's in the Past Tense now. It's very much meant as a moment of *closure* - he DID love you, past tense, we don't know where he is or how he feels now and that doesn't matter - while in San Francisco with Lestat right there on the mind telephone, it was the present tense terror that maybe that really was all Louis needed to hear to go running back to him.

But their relationship has also changed SO dramatically since San Francisco that it feels like even the past-tense version is a very, very precarious thing to admit. Because it's not about the material love triangle, it's not who-will-Bella-Swan-choose, it's about 70 years of mythmaking and storytelling.

SIDEBAR: The show left us IMO with a very frustrating ambiguity about the extent to which Armand has used his mind powers on Louis, like to the point where you have some fans believing that *every single fucking memory* we saw onscreen that they didn't like for the last two seasons is Fake News actually, and other fans believing it happened Just That One Time GOD. (I personally lean toward way *less* mind manipulation than other people assume, and if it was literally JUST the shit that happened in 1973 that's... enough to be messed up lol. I think the "love of my life" and finishing each other's sentences scenes have some unsettling implications. I *don't* think Louis having imperfect recall and limited perspective of stuff that happened a century ago is because of Armand all or even *most* of the time.)

But the fact no matter what is that Louis has a lot of cognitive dissonance around Lestat because he WANTS it acknowledged on some bone-deep level that Lestat loved him, because he loved/continues to love him too. And if we're gonna insist on throwing the word "gaslighting" around when we just mean "lying", then at the end of the day it's about Louis being told he's not crazy by someone who has at times made him feel that way.

Idk maybe this is me getting Too Deep about a finale I still think is kinda unsatisfying and already had way too much to do with Lestat and not enough with Claudia. But I do like that moment when I look past the toxic love triangle and more toward "hey buddy [my best friend Armand] why are you Like That" and Louis' little smile breaking my heart.

Something sad about that moment is Armand's right that saying those words *doesn't* end the world, and if nothing else had happened and Daniel and the Vampire CIA weren't on their divorce-attorney kick, that'd be the end of it. (Hot take I don't think saying the words or not in 1973 would've really made a difference either, and there's so much more nuanced and wild shit going on there than an undelivered message romcom beat.) And Louis would be *grateful* for that moment of understanding and closure between them.

[rosiarie]

2025 intentions

this year was a blur for me. i've died and been reborn more times than i can count. in all, 2024 was a year of change. i learned so many things, fell in love for the first time, and i've changed as a person. i was my most happiest and the most sad i've been. what i've learned is that time waits for no one, and in the time that i am alive, i want to live a life i am proud of. to be pure in the face of adversity is a strength i wish to keep. <3

here are my intentions for 2025:

quotidian:

wake up early - my earliest class next quarter is a 12 am, so i want to wake up early enough to eat breakfast at the dining commons and before the bathrooms are cleaned - around 9:10 am - to get ready for the day. i've noticed that my best days are the days i wake up early, wear a well-planned outfit, pack my bag diligently, and eat breakfast. i feel like i haven't wasted the day.

eat 3 meals a day - i struggled with eating breakfast as a first year my first quarter since i had a 10 am and breakfast closes at 11 am, so i skipped my breakfast every day. i only ate breakfast four or three times! counting weekends too. this is clearly unhealthy, and i noticed it took a toll on my health, sleeping schedule, and academic life.

sleep before 12 pm - my sleeping habits have been soso unhealthy and doom scrolling has just worsened it. i will allow myself the pleasure of still doom scrolling some nights, but i will not allow myself to sleep late anymore. it is very unhealthy, and it wrecks the rest of your next day, too.

journal daily - journaling daily was never one of those things i cared for. i've always cared about journaling, but i've always prioritized journaling as a weekly chore. i want to start journaling every night, at least three sentences, about something that stood out to me about the day. un petit souvenir à souvenir. i always journal in a narrative sense (i can make a post more on this!) rather than a "what i did today" which i am so glad i do because it makes reading back so much more fun!

read every other day - i've (so far.. there's still a few more days of 2024!) read 19 books in 2024, which to some may be a grand lot, but i have read so much more in the past! i do enjoy reading so much, but it feels more like a hobby now than a habit (which it used to be). i used to enjoy reading in the sense of just immersion, and i would pick any random story i was curious about. nowadays, i seem to find myself reading only one genre, which i want to change. in 2025, i plan to read more nonfiction texts and other genres; books that'll teach me things as well as novels for pleasure.

gym 4x a week - it's true what they say, physical exercise 100% helps boost serotonin levels and health in general! going to the gym more will help my mood, sleep, and confidence. i want to work on my body before summer, and look as good as i feel. i believe in myself to gain the body i want!

less partying - as a college freshman, you are kind of pressured to go out and party (mostly by your own fomo than from other people). it's what you think you're supposed to like. but i've come to my own conclusion that though partying can be fun, it's not something that i want to continue to do every friday. being hungover on saturday, not being able to do any work, and cramming all of sunday evening has been damaging to both my health and grades. i want to set my intentions of going out better, maybe once or twice a month when i know i can relax or genuinely want to. even if i feel like "i've earned it", if i don't really want to experience the side effects, i won't. that also makes partying during special occasions like halloweekend, st. fratty's day, and sorority/frat mixers to name a few more fun !

less entertaining things not meant for you - as a college freshman, i've had countless guys coming up to me, dming me, and asking me out. i either refrain from dming them back or softly reject them. but with some, i have talked to a little or gone on a date or two. though it's good practice, honestly, it was a waste of time. like any girl, i would love to have a caring and intelligent bf, but it isn't something i want to actively seek. my education and self-improvement have to be at the forefront of my mind, and i'm taking men out of the picture. until i meet the right man who meets all my qualifications, no matter how good-looking or charming a guy is, if his intentions aren't pure and his presence is not bringing actual value into my life, i'm not entertaining it no longer.

academic:

start early on new material before class - there was a girl in one of my classes last quarter that told me she would review the chapter before our prof went over it in class. i told myself, i'm going to do that now! but i never did. she understood the concepts soo well in that class, and i want to implement this trick to help me next quarter too!

pack my bag the night before - i'm always missing my hand cream or a water bottle in my bag when i pack it before class. doing this saves sm time and is much more efficient than running out of your door late!!

study everyday - no more cramming - i've always been a procrastinator and crammer. i fooled myself into thinking studying the few days before helped better, but honestly, that only helped my short-term memory retention skills. long-term understanding > short-term memory. i mainly want to study economics daily, but also languages, such as retaining french (non-native but fluent) and learning chinese (beginner!).

more study dates - now this can get a little iffy because sometimes studying with friends leads to being distracted from your work. but personally, i've spent my first quarter as a college freshman studying mostly with myself. i regret this so much because it is so fun when you do study with friends [that know when to lock in]. eating afterwards, getting a sweet treat, chatting a little, are all ways to keep yourself sane while studying.

anyways,

that's all for today. let me know what kind of posts you guys are interested in from me. this is my first "real" tumblr blog post, so pls be nice lol ! i would love to hear from you guys :) i will probably post 2-3x a week.

remember that you are protected. no weapon formed against you shall prosper. bisous!

[potatoplace]

Okay so my brain isn't working for full on writing right now

But I still want to yap about my stories sooooo

The next chapter of the afterthought is gonna have some angsty times in the beginning and middle, but towards the end it's going to be sooo sunny and happy and cuuuute with the love interest 🤭 I'm so excited for you guys to see the lil dates and surprises I have planned for it

My future Nesta x reader fic?? Fluffy as hell. Maybe some gentle smut if I feel like it. But mainly just the two of them bonding and being all lovey and not caring about what anyone else says

You can have iiiiit omg it's been so long since I've updated it I'm so sorry 😭 and like I'm still so excited for the plot so idk why I can't just get onto the next chapter which would have more of reader meeting Feysand and being all breathless in their presence and them showing up at her bakery eeevery morning without fail and reader having her first heat in Velaris and a while later the proposition from Rhys and Feyre for reader to be their surrogaaaaate ahhhh but really they just want to love heeeeerrrr ahhhhh

I can do it with a broken heart (continuation of the 1 series) is gonna be sad but sweeeet with reader and Nova adjusting to their new life in the day court, reader starting physical and mental therapy after all that's happened to her, planning for Elain's wedding and- dun dun- meeting Eris! Who's planning a coup against Beron! Always love to see that. And just some sweet bonding time between all of the sisters, reader making a ton of baby clothes for Feyre and keeping herself busy whenever she's not having a bad pain day

Omega needs chapter... something? I think 10? The rest of Feyre's time in the Spring Court, I don't remember much of what I had planned but it was angstyyyy until Rhys came to pick her up. Poor Feyre 😓

Omg omg BACKROOMS FEYSAND yes pleaaaase ughhh them stalking you for the first couple of days after you fell through into the backrooms, both to keep track of you and make sure you stay safe as you're slowly lured to their home. You're all weak by the time they finally approach, and by accepting the food and drink they give you you're bound to them and the backrooms. Kinda dubcon-y but they'd be very devoted to their new little wifey

Ahhh I've had this idea forever based on Chelsea Cutler's 'If I Didn't Have You' which would be Az x reader ABO. Reader is an omega who's been hurt by nearly every alpha she's come into contact to, so much that she leaves her house as little as possible. Like. Weeks between outings or however long her food supplies last for. And she's a writer! Writes a lot of the romance novels that Nesta enjoys. On one of her rare shopping trips she bumps into Az and bolts, leaving her groceries behind in her panic. But whaaaat somehow her groceries end up at her front door, a little shadow holding a note. And after a couple more of these little run ins with Az he manages to ease her worries and earn her affections aahhhh and at one point takes her to meet all of his family- a terrifying prospect for her. But they're all nice, Nesta reaaaally wants to be friends since she loves her books. Lots of fluffy cuteness with a sprinkling of angst

Yeaaaah I've got wayyy too many things bouncing around in my brain lol feel free to ask me questions cause I looove to yap

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Mundane TWST Headcanons

Riddle: expanded the room the hedgehogs and flamingos have in their enclosures

Trey: actually eats super healthily when it comes to cooking for himself. He can make food taste like whatever he wants, so he has no problem with vegetables

Cater: used to have three diamonds on his cheek because the aesthetic was nicer, but stopped doing that when Jade and Floyd came to school because he didn’t want to ‘steal their shtick’

Ace: the type of kid to throw everything into the trash can from across the room. If it looks like it’s going to miss he does a quick little bit of wind magic to send it back on course

Deuce: his hair is blue because he dyed his hair black a while back and he doesn’t know how often you’re supposed to touch it up (his mom dyes her hair with him)

Leona: actually physically can’t stay awake through a whole day anymore because he accidentally conditioned his body into taking naps

Ruggie: is best friends with the kitchen ghosts. They pile extra food on his plate

Jack: likes to watch the sunrise while jogging in the mornings but will never admit it

Azul: allows his workers one free meal a day

Jade: when he takes off his shoes in their dorm, he stops to find wherever Floyd kicked his shoes off and sets them neatly by the door for him

Floyd: whenever he cooks, people make sure to send their compliments to the chef. He knows it’s at least partially out of fear, but it makes him happy to hear that people enjoyed what he made anyway

Kalim: always makes sure to not throw any parties within a week of Jamil’s birthday. He wants to throw Jamil a party himself, but Jamil would up stressed and trying to micromanage everything from the sidelines, so this is the best he can do

Jamil: his hair is long as a tiny act of rebellion. It’s inconvenient in every part of his job, and it makes him happy to grow it out despite this

Vil: when he gets free samples from brands he models for, he gives them to his dorm members. He can afford to buy it all himself, anyway

Rook: if someone in the dorm ever cries, he’ll stand outside their door making sure no one comes in

Epel: his family sends all of the other first years almost as many apples as Epel himself gets

Idia: used to play ‘monsters vs heroes’ with Ortho when they were kids. Ortho always insisted on being the hero, and Idia would always do the most dramatic, drawn out ‘deaths’ when he ‘lost’

Ortho: he knows he can watch and analyze movies in a second, but he likes to enjoy them in real time

Malleus: if he has ice cream, he will temporarily make the area around himself colder to make sure it doesn’t melt

Lilia: the only reason he remembers his birthday every year is because he makes a point to throw a (small) party just so he can invite Malleus to it

Sebek: is good with volume control if you ask him to be quieter

Silver: his hair is always a mess because birds try to preen him

[whatudottu]

Welcome one and all to my version of the party's loopified designs, featuring my many broken bones and blood stains I especially put into Odile who I tackled second unlike the alphabetical order that I have presented here! I'll have in-depth discussions on each designs and matching practice portraits under the cut but before that-

Siffrin 'barely taller than a preteen' no middle name no last name Loop is still barely taller than a preteen but now that preteen can claim fire to their height!

Alphabetical order GO!

Bonnie, who I've been calling Bonfire (which if that ends up being their name I can imagine Bonnie calling them 'Fire' while they call Bonnie 'Face' to match), was the last of my designs because frankly I knew from the start what their design was going to take influence from and also knew I was going to draw fire :P They were based on bonfires (of course) and also specifically the Burning Man effigies just for a humanoid figure, plus being a chef cooker and a campfire and also a very heated expressive person.

Their flames are hot but not actual wood burning so the Favour Tree (and Mirabelle in the height chart) are not at risk of combusting, they're just incredibly bright-

Isabeau my first design, with influences from @basilpaste 's Lock (with a dressform body) and @nullapophenia 's original version of Husk (the faceless identityless sketch), I have combined them both to make a mannequin it/its loopified design that finally gets to be capital T Tall all for the low low price of being Changed against its will and suffering another bout of body dysphoria that it can't fix anymore :) :) :) When I was referencing mannequins I actually noticed how long their legs actually were let alone how they were perma-stuck in that Barbie-like highheel pose and thought why don't I just curse Isa with something he previously wanted :P

Something something Isabeau actively Changed not only his body but his personality to become someone he wouldn't be ashamed of, yada yada Loopsabeau is back to hating itself and has started to become a person it despises to match (also like a mannequin it's head and arms are technically painlessly removeable :P)

Third in order and third in design is Mirabelle, who technically is the only loopified design with technically hair and clothes, but the hair are the tangled roots of the Favour Tree and the clothes are like the carved hardstone statues of religious figures :P Initially my Idea for Mirabelle was to make her kinda like her statue, with the wonky expression of someone who made it without much mastery over details, not to pit anything against Mira, no, no. Thought about maybe abstract statue design but I couldn't find a version I liked but I did always imagine her statue being weathered in some way, there was a reason why I saved her for third I couldn't pick what I wanted. But then I remembered the broken Change God statues, thought about the 'blessing' that ended up being a curse, and then thought about overgrown weathering and gave her the roots.

I actually looked up Black hairstyles and mostly wondered what specific hair texture Mirabelle had (she wears it in a fro of course, but she has flyaways that aren't coils, but she described her own hair as kinky and :P) so that if I were to mimic hair with tree roots I can get an appropriate matching hairstyle (settled on megatwists). Hah, if Mira has 4C hair, considering how long her hair actually looks, if she to wear her hair in twists she might actually have elbow length hair :P

I spent 8 non-consecutive hours on Odile can you tell? Can you see my hands bleeding my wrist breaking my eyes drooping? Yeah so Odile was again, my second design and it took me a week to recover, and she's a combination of gem and mirror suit with all the little fragments floating around her the 'diamonds' that represent all her family members party plus the ones she originally had in sets of 2. I also put geodes where parts of her body have broken off (inspired by how when the King strikes she can't move, plus also being a glass canon) where when I was actually drawing those geodes that they kinda use the Change symbol?

Circle within a circle within a circle, regardless of how wiggly it is, and at the centre is a cluster of crystals. That was an accidental reference to Odile's mixed heritage but hoo boy what a connection! Her missing pieces are a combination of 'being too old for this' fragility and also 'i didn't want to render more mirrors sue me'

Anyway I am going to put my wrist in a cast and imagine loopified party members with their pre-wish counterparts :P

[aroaceleovaldez]

i would like to say my ideal PJO adaptation (if i was being physically forced against my will to have to pick a live action adaptation over an animated one for some reason) would be a combo like writing of the musical + casting of the show + visuals of the movies

BUT the show actually does have the playwright for the musical as one of the major writers for like three episodes and that did nothing for it. so...

[sysig]

A lot of early concept stuff was expression/pose brainstorming - there’s the classic six Webkinz emotions (which, I learned have been largely pared down to just four after a point! Since they got rid of Dr. Quack’s role, there’s no more “sick” expression and most ‘Kinz’ tired and sad expressions are the same! >:0 What’s the point of having an easily editable puppet with the spaghetti code intact that you have to put an image there AnyWay and not make a slightly different expression!! H’f) as well as the main Sakura poses - so if I’m already making up expressions, why no go a little further! :D

One of the expressions I definitely needed up top was Mischievous - working with a cat, that’s the only logical conclusion really. I think it’s funny that she swerves the compliment only to pay it right back as well lol

The ticklish expression is one I’m still going back and forth on! I’m half tempted to have it be somewhere between happy and angry - maybe a mood gradient, starting out just positive and slowly moving into “Hey stop! >:0″ if it’s too many times in a row? It’s a thought haha

Similarly so, messing with her ears - bothering your pets is a very important element of socialization (lol)

As seen above, I’d reallyyy like to figure a way to have a dual-visual mood system - both the ‘Kinz body language/expression/emotion and a more exact stat bar. I’m still chewing on this idea a bit, no pun intended lol. That and click-and-drag with an actual image you can drag around your screen, hm and hm! Much to think about. Her face here turned out cute and funny haha, helped me push the expression more comedic

Much better :) Webkinz already has some well-known food dialogue, my favourite is probably “Mmm to the mmmax!” haha

Each low-mood would have their own emotion tied to it, but what about somewhere in the middle? I like the idea of the ‘Kinz getting bored if they’re left alone for too long! And little paw taps, showing off her embroidered paw pad haha ♪