#this is actually kinda my fave fic rn

[iceunhie]

So, um, I don't have any brainrot because my brain is dead. But ever since the trailer, I CAN'T STOP SIMPING AT NEUVILLETTE OH MY GOD. AND THOSE VIDEOS WITH THE OTTERS TOO SHSJSJKSKM

Sorry. Haven't been able to throw up my love for him to anyone so, yeah.

For a request, maybe painter! reader who wants to paints him? I mean, he is too majestic to not have any paintings of him hanging somewhere.

Thank you, and lots of loveee. It's okay if you don't want to write this too

AFFALATUS.

summary: in which you, an aspiring painter in Fontaine finds your muse in the ever-steadfast Chief Justice, and what better way do you express such a fondness for the Chief Justice than to use your artistic skillset to capture him in all his glory? ah, and perhaps capture his heart on the way.

notes: neuvillette x GN!reader (implied fem due to Neuvillette's use of 'my lady' though). comedic(?) super fluffy (haha are you sure abt that?) reader shenanigans, misunderstandings and reader being a simp (like me) sap, neuvillette is a sweetheart and i may have gotten carried away help. she fell first he fell harder trope, dialogue focused and relationship development mostly. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Sometimes, you think that had you not chosen to be an artist; a painter, to be specific, you would certainly do well as a Bard, or a writer. The sheer amount of poems and song you could conjure up in your head detailing the fine traits and qualities of such a finely procured man such as Neuvillette would certainly make you someone of great renown, as you could prescribe and go on and on about his person. Would you be displayed at the Palais Mermonia, perhaps? As a fine appreciator for the Chief Justice's conduct?

Haha, your foot. Fontaine would sink itself under the waters before you would be recognized, much less acknowledged. Such was the pain of being but an ordinary person, getting by the day slowly but surely.

Artists all look for their muse. Whether be in in music, the nuances of literary work, or in your chosen profession, the art of color, the art of capturing life at its most raw form through the canvas. painting. It just so happens that your current muse happens to be the wonderful, all knowing, and breathtakingly striking Monsieur Neuvillette.

Which is what led you to your current conundrum. How would you be able to capture his image? Sure, there were official shots of the Chief Justice, but you would never be satisfied with that. The real deal is always the best reference. (you don't want to admit it, but you know you could easily paint him with but a few pictures as a reference point. you simply wanted to see him up close, says that shameless heart of yours.)

Monsieur Neuvillette was a very, very busy man. Simply garnering an audience with him would cause much of your yearly savings and the sparsity of your visit would never let you finish that painting of his image truly capturing his allure. But you were never one to give up once you've set your sights on something, though.

...Which, unfortunately, leads you into more trouble than it's worth.

Your face burned in embarrassment as the Chief Justice himself scoured through your paintings and sketches personally, humming absentmindedly in between them, calmly sitting with you in his very quarters at the Palais Mermonia. You didn't expect that Monsieur Neuvillette would be so perceptive, as he immediately noticed you following him (if only to document his actions and sketch him) and for him to personally interrogate you about your actions. Well, it didn't matter anymore, so might as well fess up, right? The last thing you would want is for your dearly beloved muse to think you were some sort of deranged stalker, and you end up with some sort of crime....

While the morbid curiosity of seeing what he was like in an official trial was tempting, you pushed that thought away as you began to sputter out your words.

"Please forgive me for my disrespectful actions, Chief Justice! I swear, I had no malicious intentions at all...!"

you immediately spill out the words, a thousand apologies ready to spill itself out your mouth. to your great surprise and relief, the Chief Justice simply shakes his head, as he puts down your sketches of him.

"Please, it's no offense at all. If anything, I am flattered that I am a subject to most of your impressive works, my lady. your talent is remarkable."

"...Pardon?" you look at him, disbelief coloring your face. this was unexpected.

"You actually... think that my work is, is good?"

The man next to you nods, his face not betraying a single emotion. Goodness, you could almost faint. He was even more beautiful up-close. Such sharp eyes, and such unique patterns... ahem.

"If you wished to capture me as a work for your latest masterpiece, my lady, you must at least inform me, or schedule an appointment with me. I would be more than happy to oblige."

"But I don't have the Mora, Chief Justice..."

"Ah. That can be arranged."

You thank the Hydro Archon for Monsieur Neuvillette's kindness. To think that he personally arranged a meeting for you to sketch him and bring your dreams of capturing him in a portrait come true...

Oh, you shall put all of your modus operandi into this piece, now that your spark has been lit. This is a debt you will definitely not forget, and you hope that your portrait can repay that.

And so, for over the next few months, you would arrive at the Palais Mermonia with a specially curated trinket (personally handed to you by Neuvillette) to show to the Melusine Sedene to access a personal audience with the Chief Justice. For the first few weeks, you're besought with joy at the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You would sketch and accompany Neuvillette as he would do his business. When asked by him as to why you did this, when you were simply capturing his image, he said, you sent him a mortified look, before you explained.

"Art is not just simply putting what you see on a canvas, Monsieur. It is observing, emulating, and envisioning the subject and using that as a way to bring life and meaning to a canvas. It is the very expression of the soul, a longing to etch what the artist thinks is beautiful to a permanent surface...! Ah."

"So you believe that I am such a subject?"

You look sheepish, as you had begun to ramble and reveal your fondness for him.

"Forgive my insolence, Chief Justice. My talk of the arts may not suit your fancy or disinterest you..."

"Neuvilette."

"Yes?"

"...I do not mind you wishing to converse with me. As I shall see you more for the next months as you bring your work to life, as you say, addressing me not by my title is mandatory. I would prefer it if you would simply call me by my name, my lady."

"And..." he looks at you, a little more softly this time. "I do not mind being subject to your talk of the arts either. Converse with me about such things if it makes you feel comfortable."

"...Understood. Then, Sir Neuvillette, I am [name]. I look forward to working with you."

"As do I, Miss [name]."

He offers his hand for you to shake, and you feel yourself flush just a bit, before you firmly shake hands, as you smile at him gratefully.

Little did you know, that your talk of the arts caught his interest, as did his curiousity of you.

"Why do artists such as you enjoy to be so swayed by your work, Miss [name]? To the point where your ilk would happily go without a human's basic needs.... It is fascinating to me. Is this a common characteristic among the practitioners of those who dabble in the arts? What drives your kind to be so interested in such things so deeply?"

Overtime, as Neuvillette and you both eased into the steady routine of you observing him, sketching him, making a few brushstrokes in your canvas, and him simply going about his day, conversations about the subtleties of human life and human needs became a common source of pleasant conversation.

To Neuvillette's great surprise, and secret appreciation, your views were unique, and completely different from his, or any other average Fontainian citizen. Your contrasting views are evident by your conversations, as you both try to understand the other through talks of the ways humans think, and how they live their lives in spite of how fleeting it is. He thinks of you as peculiar, but he doesn't dislike it. If anything, he finds it endearing. That your mind would be able to reach conclusions that even he would not be able to reach. That you hold onto your views in such a beautiful and captivating way.

He enjoyed it. He very much enjoyed your company, and your discussions. He hasn't felt such feelings in such a long, long time. The feeling of being understood, and being challenged. Of being... calmed and liking someone's presence, of being fond of it, even.

As even more months passed, conversations like that have also been overtaken by conversations about your daily lives, as you ramble about your day as you continue your work on the canvas, and the normally silent halls of his chambers fill with your and his voice, as you both revel in each other's company.

Neuvillette thinks he's never seen such a fascinating individual such as you. Who can question and break down his steady beliefs, and who he was able to open up to with time.

He wonders to himself after you've long retired for the night. After you finish your work and these days of tranquility and these conversations he so cherished will end, would you grace him with your presence again? Or would you simply just see him as the ever righteous and untouchable Chief Justice once more, and not as 'Neuvillette', the one who conversed, questioned, and listened to your views, and would he simply see you as nothing more than a mere painter who simply took him as a subject to their latest work?

You both would become strangers, never entangling yourselves again as your lives go on.

For some reason, the thought of that makes his heart twist uncomfortably.

The painting of Neuvillette is stunning.

You almost burst into tears of joy at the finished work. Yes, yes, this was it! Your work and efforts have finally paid off. Countless hours and different techniques tried, many changes and many frustrated nights, and it has finally been completed.

Brushstrokes of different shades of blue, the vibrant background, and the features of the Chief Justic-- No, the features of Neuvillette. The painting dons him in an expression of tranquility, as fleeting as his expression is, it is forever captured in color, with you as the sole witness to it.

Now, the only thing you have to do is deliver it to Neuvillette's chambers. He did promise you compensation, after all. Who were you to disagree? And for the price he gave... Ah, being able to grow close to him meant you were of course paid well for your efforts, after all.

(not that you would care if he didn't compensate you or not. his company and his leniency to your actions and your passion, as well as letting him see and hear your thoughts and feelings and let you listen to his pondering for the months that passed would have left you satisfied anyway. such was your enamoured state with him.)

It's raining heavily when you arrive at his chambers one final time. Sedene greets you, as if used to your presence already, by how much you frequent. You feel a pang of inexplicable sadness at bidding Neuvillette's company a final farewell.

You would soon be just a spectator, and never truly see 'Neuvilette' again as you did at the months that passed. The conversations, the familiar routine of chatting with him about inane to deep topics.... Yes, you shall miss it as well.

You wonder if he'll miss it too. (will he miss you?) You can only take a deep breath, as you knock on his chambers for one last time.

"...Come in, Miss [name]."

As expected, your work is beautiful. Neuvillette was not lying when he thought of that last statement. Your portrait of him is serene, calming, and... and so lovingly curated by you.

Unlike most of his official portraits and pictures, this particular portrait exudes an aura of familiarity, a testimony to your bond that has slowly developed with time. this portrait was created with the intention of capturing him as 'Neuvilette.' Not as the Chief Justice of Fontaine, not as the leader of the Marchaussee Phantom, but simply as the Neuvillette you spent time with, you indulged in, and grew fond of.

(did you grow fond of him as he did of you? did he occupy your thoughts, as you did with his own?)

His heart skips, but this time it's an intense feeling of longing. He doesn't wish to be deprived of your presence, of your comfort.

Of your warmth, just yet.

"...euvilette? Neuvilette?" your voice is soft, he thinks. it snaps him from his thoughts, as he looks at you, and he sees you donning and expression of sheepishness, hesitancy.

"it is lovely. your work, i find it exquisite, [name]."

he turns to look at you, his expression softening. for the first time in a long time, his lips curl into a real, genuinely happy smile. (only for you.)

you flush at his words, as you hang your head down, your expression betraying the true extent of your feelings towards his words (and towards him.)

there is a few beats of silence, before one of you takes the plunge.

"If I may, may I be inclined to seek your company... even after our arrangement has ended? if, if it isn't bothering you, of course."

you blink at him, processing his words for a few moments, before a radiant smile graces your face, mirth overtaking your expression.

"Of course."

your words make his heart beat once more, as he feels this foreign feeling invade his conscious once again. he doesn't hate it.

the heavy rainfall stops, as does his worries and his doubts. he may not know exactly what this feeling is right now, but there's one thing he can't deny.

He's glad you came into his unchanging, ever-present world, like a splash of color to his normally dull, rigid life. He recalls a conversation you had once before.

To you, art was the expression of the soul, the permanent etch borne of its creator's love bleeding through a myriad of brushstrokes of passion, comfort, longing and intense desire. coalescing into one form, a permanent fixture of the unchanging and deep feelings that only a few would truly want to understand in its whole. To want to uncover everything, and appreciate it in its entirety.

While it may have been you that called him your muse, and it may have been you that called him to be a 'work of art,' Neuvillette can't help but think that it was you, who truly deserved such a title.

© 𝐌𝐇𝐈𝐈𝐄𝐄𝐄 : do not repost, copy, or plagiarize my work.

[greensaplinggrace]

unfortunately i'm like 160 episodes into tma and still don't get the obsession with martin. like i don't hate him but also- literally every other character and relationship is more interesting. also fanon version of him sucks lol. canon version of him is actually appealing to me in some ways, but considering fanon martin makes 90% of tma fic unreadable, i'm not too stoked about even having him tagged half the time.

[seiwas]

i maxxed the tags (what did i expect) but!!

what a soft piece ari 🥺 thank you for sharing this hurt/comfort piece w us!! i think satoru will always be a figure of strength—but i think it’s in part because that’s how he brands himself to be around the people he cares about. he’ll never truly share how he thinks and feels about things, will almost always downplay it really. but he’s always worrying, always aware and cautious, overthinking 🥺 and i felt that loads here!!

there’s a shipwreck stuck between your ribs ; satoru gojo

synopsis; three times satoru sees you cry, and the understanding you gain of each other from it.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, the synopsis speaks for itself i think, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, i just think he’d be so good at comforting u :ccc, also fluff!!, he’s addicted to calling u ”baby,” satoru gojo vs human emotion (he loses)

a/n; pls ignore the fact that 90% of my gojo fics are hurt/comfort ok we dont need to get into that <33 the writing in this one might be a lil rusty but im pretty fond of this gojo :’3

dim lights, buttery popcorn, and boredom.

the senses invading his mind are mellow, coaxing, a little tedious. all he can see are the buzzing lights before him, all he can hear is the insistent chewing of the people around him, and all he can feel is just that:

boredom.

satoru stifles a yawn, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. he’s trying to pay attention — really, he is. trying to pay attention to the movie he picked out himself, after thoughtful consideration, one he’s been looking forward to watching with you all week. he’s trying his best. but, gosh, it’s just so boring.

or maybe he just doesn’t have it in him today — with all these too-dim lights, too-loud popcorn-chewers, and the too-convoluted plot playing on the big screen in front of him. he has no idea what’s happening, anymore, what scene this is supposed to be. some sob-story? he clocked out a while ago.

so, with nothing better to do — satoru decides to savour another view.

that’s how it always goes. no matter the movie, no matter the snacks, whether you’re watching at home on the couch or a nearby movie theatre — eventually, when his eyelids begin to grow heavy, or when his attention span begins to falter, that blue-soaked gaze of his shifts. a moth to a flame, following his instincts. constantly looking over to see what kind of face you're making. 

after all, your reactions are far more entertaining than any movie could ever hope to be. little sighs of exasperation, jolts and shivers down your spine, or a laughter so bubbly he can’t resist leaning in for a kiss or ten — he loves it. adores it. lives and dies by it. 

so satoru turns his head, and looks at you, knowing you’ll save him from the boredom clutching at his subconscious. 

and something in his chest constricts.

at first, he doesn’t notice it. hungrily lapping over the expanse of your jaw, to your cheekbones, his gaze drinking in everything he can see. scanning your eyes for a hint of emotion; and he finds it. he finds it in something that glimmers in the dim lighting of the theatre, something that has his breath drawing back to the depths of his throat.

tears.

crystalline, dew-drawn, a fresh set of tears clinging to the edge of your lash line. they’ve yet to fall, but satoru sees them — he sees them and he doesn’t know what to do. 

tears. 

tears?

you’re crying.

in the depths of your glassy eyes, he sees a fractured scene — playing against the scope of your iris, as the movie reflects off your pupils. there’s a turmoil there, a sadness, one that has you covering your mouth with the front of your knuckle. and you’re crying.

satoru wants to tease you. he wants to lean over and purr against the shell of your ear, poke fun at you for being so emotional. such a little baby. what else is he supposed to do?

the tricky part is that he can’t. he can’t move, can’t shape his voice into a purr, can’t even speak. he’s frozen in place like a bug trapped in amber, stuck to his seat, unable to do anything but blink at you in what he thinks might be bewilderment.

his breath hitches — and that’s all. 

something about the sight of you makes him falter, makes him stop in his tracks. catches him off guard. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t recognize the feeling stirred deep within his chest, something discomforting and foreign. doesn’t understand why his heart feels so itchy, all of a sudden.

then your eyes meet.

and you blink. once, then twice. eyes just a little wide, an embarrassed kind of surprise. he thinks you must be flustered, and he’s proven right when your gaze flees from his.

a mingle of words clog up at the base of his throat. say something, say something, say something. but he doesn’t know what. 

he wets his lips, preparing to part them, but before he can get the first syllable out you're leaning in. close. close enough that he feels your breath ghost against the shell of his ear, close enough that his heart starts skipping the way it always does when you press yourself against him like that’s where you belong.

a whisper. it’s small, hushed, a little frail. but there’s something else, too, laced together with the vowels — amusement. 

”you didn’t tell me this was a sad movie.”

a pout plays at your lips, as you murmur your grievances. but then there’s that amusement; it’s there when you pull back, in the crinkle of your sparkling eyes, the curve of your smile. 

and satoru’s shoulders relax. stiffened bones melting. he exhales a breath he had no idea he was holding, and his heart feels at ease. a grin finds it’s way to his lips, wide, teasing, cheshire and sweet. 

he leans a little closer, bumping his head against yours. gently. ”i think you’re just sensitive, baby.”

his teasing is rewarded with a little huff, as your elbow meets his side. soft. everything you do is soft. 

”oh, shut up,” you scoff. smiling. he’s so relieved that you’re smiling. 

a moth to a flame, following his instincts, satoru brings you closer. an arm around your waist, pulling you into his orbit, until you’re practically sharing seats. searching for your hand — and he finds it, intertwining his long fingers with yours, just to give it a little squeeze.

(for some reason, he feels more protective than usual.)

he feels your gaze. questioning, maybe. but you melt into him quickly, with your head slumped against his shoulder, and his heart settles back into a sleepy rhythm. just watching the movie pass you by.

the dim lighting of the theatre casts a hazy shadow over your face, a tender desaturation, and his eyes stay glued to it when you aren’t looking. the smell of popcorn hangs heavy in the air, salty and buttery, warm and sweet, and he’s almost grateful to feel that familiar boredom tug at his veins.

anything is fine. anything is better than that discomfort, that irritating itch. 

satoru watches the movie flicker by, scene by scene, whispering commentary into your ear and stealing your popcorn with a satisfied hum. chuckling when you whisper-shout at him to cut it out!

he tries not to think of the glittering tears at your lash line, and almost succeeds.

rain clouds, cups of chamomile, and frustration.

it seeps out into the open air, engulfing your living room in a feverish haze. thick and suffocating; the scent of heavy rain, lukewarm tea, and that ugly, ugly feeling underneath his skin.

it pulses. it itches. and oh, how it aches.

satoru hates it. he hates feeling angry, feeling upset — hates when either of those emotions are in connection to you. hates it, hates it, hates it more than anything.

he does everything he possibly can to avoid it; his eyes are keen, always have been, and he can see when that thin line he shouldn’t cross crawls a little too close for comfort. when the rubber band of your patience just snaps. he sees all your buttons, knows which ones not to push. he knows you.

and, more importantly, more than anything — nothing you do could ever make him angry at you. 

(well, at least that’s what he thought.) 

satoru’s anger is a fickle thing, controlled, kept under wraps. it’s a slow process; it simmers, boils, a cup of chamomile brewed too long. and then it all but invades his senses. it never gets the best of him, never, but right now he can feel it — little pinpricks against his skin, a frustration that stirs his guts and has his eyes going cold.

satoru towers over you, like this. full height on display. not slouching or draping himself over furniture, but standing tall, and proud, and menacing. he isn’t smiling, and that’s all you need to know that he’s upset with you. his eyes are layered over with discontentment. 

a sigh spills from his lips, a little gruff, unmistakably annoyed. it slices the silence of the room in half, and a shiver travels down your spine. he doesn’t notice it. his voice has a rough edge to it, something firm. something that doesn’t sound like it could come out of his mouth at all.

”don’t act like such a child.”

a flinch. or maybe more like a jolt; this time, he notices, but it’s too late. he’s in too deep, boiled water licking at his ankles, pulling him down. frustration nips at his skin, and he can’t quite seem to push it away.

and you’re just so, so unaccustomed to it. unaccustomed to seeing him wear anything but a smile, unaccustomed to that cold gaze, usually nothing but warm and fond when it meets your own. this isn’t like him.

it’s not like him at all.

swallowing thickly, you do your best to calm down. but before you can make any attempt to contain it, wetness begins to gather in the corners of your eyes. pooling, little droplets yearning to fall.

satoru notices them instantly. he sees that sad glimmer, framed by the murky darkness seeping in from beyond the curtains, accompanied by the symphony of pitter patter against the windowpane. tears, much like the rain beating down outside.

and his chest goes cold.

a tiny sniffle pushes past your lips, and the dam inside you begins to break — tears tripping over your lash line, rolling down your cheeks. cascading across your pretty face. the air fills with a sense of dread, and both of you seem to be thinking the exact same thing.

(oh, fuck.)

satoru notices, belatedly, that his throat has gone dry. that his heart feels itchy, again. it itches and itches but he can’t do anything to soothe it, and your tears continue to fall. 

his heart begins to crack. right down the middle, like a gash in the reflection of a puddle, right across his chest. it hurts.

an inhale, then an exhale. you’re still trying to keep it all together, grasping for control over your emotions, but it’s not going too well. the little breaths that escape your throat are shaky at best, hands trembling as you wipe the tears away with the front of your wrists. and your voice sounds a little like it’s about to crumble away. 

”sorry,” you squeak, taking a step back. there’s a silent panic in the gesture, one that makes satoru want to get down on his knees. ”i’ll just — i’ll leave —”

he wants to stop you. he needs to stop you. but he does nothing, nothing at all, even as you stumble out. leaving the haunting echo of tiny sniffles and tear-stained cheeks behind you. 

satoru just stands there. once again, the sight of your tears seems to render him completely helpless. useless.

and he's frustrated, honestly. frustrated by the argument, by your tears, by his own guilt. he’s so frustrated he wants to claw his eyes out. he scratches at his forearm, but it does no good. all he can think of is your frightened little expression.

(he scared you.)

satoru slumps down on the couch, head in his hands, running rough fingers through his soft hair. it’s unruly by the time he’s done, and his bottom lip is bruised with teeth marks, and everything in the world feels so meaningless. so out of tune.

(he made you cry.)

a sigh. drawn out, tinged with exhaustion, bitter and battered like the swing of a baseball bat. he feels a little like he could throw up. it’s foreign, this emotion, suffocating. how long has it been since he genuinely felt this kind of shame?

the crack in his heart grows deeper, while you’re gone. more severe. every moment you spend outside of his vision makes him falter more and more, makes his desperation grow. desperate to plead for your forgiveness, to convince you not to leave. to wipe the tears away from your cheeks, delicately, the way you deserve. but he can do nothing but sit there, useless, repeating the same old phrase inside his mind.

he’ll make it up to you.

and when you finally come back, having calmed down a bit, he does just that. you’re embarrassed, he can tell, a little meek. it makes him feel that discomforting emotion, again, that ache. the crack that only ever seems to deepen.

but he covers it all up with a smile. a little sheepish, more than a little forced, but he hopes you understand. hopes you can see his remorse, see a man who loves you, because he does. 

so satoru takes you into his arms, softly, hands finding the small of your back. delicate, protective. a little whisper spilling from his lips. 

”’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean it.”

and it’s not enough. he knows it isn’t. but he does what he can — even when it just ends up clumsy, teasing, bordering on something that most would interpret as insincere. all he can do is coddle you. shower you in hugs and kisses, gifts and praises. he hands it out like candy, eager hands finding yours, everything spilling out of his chest all at once. 

there’s a desperation to it that isn’t lost on you.

but it works. he’ll make it up to you; he swears. and he dotes on you until you’re too embarrassed to be sad anymore, apologizes until his throat runs dry. until he’s sure you believe him. 

he brews you another cup of chamomile, stirred to perfection, warm enough to make up for the shiver he sent down your spine. the rain beating down on your windows serves as a constant reminder of his failure, and satoru does his best to ignore it. swallowing what’s left of his frustration, focusing on you.

anything to see you smile again. anything to wash away the red tint to your eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. anything to hear you laugh, to get you to feel safe around him again. 

(anything to make him forget the sight of those tears rolling down your cheeks.)

panic, panic, panic.

it’s all he can feel, all he can think, the only emotion his muddled mind can cling to. he’s in pure, sincere, genuine panic, and you aren’t saying a thing. can’t bring yourself to.

arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, you hide away in the crook of his neck. clutching the fabric of his shirt, burrowing your face deeper into his warmth — and you’re not just crying.

you’re downright sobbing.

satoru knew something was off the moment you fell into his embrace, suddenly, tackling him into a hug so desperate it left him reeling. a kind of desperation he isn’t used to, from you.

he knew something was wrong. 

he knew even before he heard it; your choking sobs, those shaky, heaving breaths. muffled into the cotton of his shirt, his uncertain arms around you.

they break his heart.

”hey, hey…” there’s a soothing lilt to his voice, awfully delicate. sweet like molten honey, almost enough to hide the panic. ”what’s wrong?”

satoru holds you to his chest, safe and secure, cradling you protectively. as if shielding you from the world — from whatever or whoever got you like this. as if you’d crumble into dust, otherwise.

he tries to calm down, but his mind is spinning like a broken clock, and your silence doesn’t help. you’re trying to respond; he knows you are, but you just can’t get the words out. any attempts only make you cry harder.

a shake of your head is all he gets — and it’s not much, but satoru’s learned to make a lot out of a little. 

so he continues to hold you, hiding his worry, tucking his anxiety away somewhere you won’t be able to see. he curses, inwardly, grasping blindly for conclusions — for some divine guidance. how is he supposed to deal with this?

(how long has it been since he felt so very useless?)

gentle. that’s the approach he takes, finally, hiding his nervosity. he rocks you back and forth, just a little, like he’s lulling you to sleep; his warm hands finding the small of your back, the back of your head. cradling you so close you hear his rapid heartbeat by your ear.

soothing whispers. murmured into your hair, so soft they seem to melt once they slip from his tongue, all honey and devotion. affection so palpable you taste it in the air, from the breaths he exhales. 

”it’s fine. i’m here, i’m here… i’ve got you.”

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but it seems to work. because you calm down, after a while, just sniffling into his neck and letting him soothe you. sobs and unstable heaves, turning into whimpers and shaky breaths. clinging to him all the while; so desperate for comfort, for him.

it makes him feel so, so desperate to protect you, to wash every single one of your worries away.

it’s unbearable, this aching desire. like a great, insatiable, unnamed something deep within the caverns of his chest, clawing at his ribcage, snarling and hissing, itching to break out so it can open its maw and devour you both.

(it’s ugly. it’s grotesque. it wants to keep you safe so badly it might kill him for it.)

a coo. sad, dripping with care, a comforting tone that he hopes you’ll find soothing. he smooths his palm down the back of your head, heavy, doting. it hurts so much to see you hurt.

”my baby….” satoru exhales, a little shaky. but he smiles, and he hopes you can hear it, hopes it’ll help mend the pain in your chest. ”what’s got you this upset, hm? you're worrying me, here…”

a broken sniffle. the guilt eats at you, gnaws at your bones, and all you can do is hide away in the crook of his neck. apologizing, your voice no more than a tremor of a breath.

”’m sorry…”

and satoru thinks his heart shatters. he can practically hear the crash, feel the broken, useless little pieces dig into his skin.

his arms travel down to your hips, steady, and he lifts you up. just for a second, just so he can plop down on the floor with you in tow — keeping you snuggled into his neck. seated on his lap with your legs around his waist, like you’re his baby koala.

”shh, it's okay,” he soothes, a grounding rumble of his chest right by your ear. he’s got you enveloped, wrapped up in his buzzing warmth, and all you can feel is him. ”you’re okay. no matter what it is, i'll take care of it, alright? you can rely on me.”

a moment passes. 

satoru clears his throat. nervous, suddenly. ”you know that, right?”

all you can give him is a shaky nod, but it’s enough. he sighs, in palpable relief, still rubbing circles into your back. ”okay,” he sneaks a hand underneath your shirt, tracing little shapes into your bare skin. ”good.”

he isn’t sure how long you spend there, on the floor, entirely focused on comforting you. washing away all your sadness, with every gentle caress, every soothing murmur of there, there… every little stutter of his heartbeat next to yours.

and when you’ve finally calmed down, melting under his touch and into his skin, arms going lax around his neck — satoru takes a breath. collecting himself, so you don’t have to. acting like his heart isn’t still a mess of crushed glass.

”you okay now?” he coos, drawing absentminded hearts into the skin of your back. his voice is teasing, but warm, spilling from his tongue and into your ear. deep and smooth. ”almost gave me a heart attack, baby.”

he feels the way your grip around him tightens, just a smidge, and he hears the weak little breath you draw in. your voice is still shaky, and it makes him want to rearrange the world, stitch those broken vowels back together. 

(he doesn’t like how irrational it is, this insatiable something. how it makes him want to bend the rules of the universe, just to see you smile. a dangerous temptation.)

”i’m sorry,” you croak, clinging to him like a shipwreck to a shore. ”it’s not — not a big deal, ’m just…” 

satoru pulls back. just a little bit, making sure your arms and legs stay in their rightful place, curled around his neck and waist. making sure the two of you stay connected.

then he pinches your cheek.

”don’t apologize,” he quips, a playful frown on his face. soft, a vague furrow of his brows. like he’s scolding you. 

it makes you wince, your eyes downcast. you look so meek. a little like a kicked puppy, glassy eyes glancing up at him in search of comfort.

satoru clicks his tongue. ”and don’t look at me like that, either.” 

he boops your nose, playful, doting, and you exhale weakly. it’s small, more breath than a real laugh, but you’re almost smiling, and —

it’s a start. it’s something.

satoru coos, voice dripping with warmth, sickeningly sweet. it seeps from his fingertips when he cradles your cheek in his palm, rubbing circles into the puffy skin beneath your eyes. there’s a mirth in his own, crinkled at the edges, tucked into that blue shade, something glazed over with pure adoration.

”there’s that smile.” 

he leans forward, closer, to press a kiss against the bridge of your nose, eyelashes fluttering. tickling your skin. you fall further into his embrace and he makes no move to resist, wouldn’t do it even if he physically could. even if he had the strength to let you go.

then he broaches the subject. hesitant. tactful, careful, delicate — he tries to remember how it works. how to handle something fragile. he thinks of those boxes you carried last week, little porcelain cups. heavy in his arms. he thinks of the way you jab his side with your elbow; gentle, always gentle, even though there’s never any need.

he thinks of you, and it all comes easy. that’s how it always goes.

”wanna talk about it?” he asks, softly. fingers treading through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. it makes you melt, a little. clearing your throat.

”it’s nothing, really,” you mumble, tiny, seeking respite in the warmth that seeps from his body. speaking with a raspy voice, a hoarse throat, all tired out after crying. ”nothing big, anyway…” 

a moment passes, before you continue. ”i guess it's just been a rough week,” you admit, a sigh slipping from your lips, tinged with pure exhaustion. ”just little things piling up. ’m okay now.” 

a hum. satoru clears his throat.

”anything i can do?”

(please let me help.)

but you only shake your head. ”you’ve already done enough,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. ”think i just needed to get it all out, y’know?”

a beat. an itch. satoru holds you tight, a little tighter than he should. gentle, he reminds himself. but he needs you close enough to feel the flutter of your heartbeat, close enough to delude himself that you’ve merged together. closer isn’t close enough.

he gnaws at his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the flesh. pulling words out from the back of his throat, uncertain. ”i’m always here,” he settles on. ”if there’s anything you need, come straight to me. okay?”

a frown plays at your lips. you’re silent, for a while, until he hears you mumble beneath your breath.

”i don’t want to bother you so much, though…”

”— it’s not a bother.”

the words spill into the air, a little more firm than he meant to sound. but he means them.

”i’m serious. if you ever need help, with anything, come find me. i’m yours,” satoru inhales, deep, his chest moving in tune with the breath. you’re carried along with it, as if being lulled to sleep, following the steady pattern of his lungs. 

then he exhales. in, and out, and with it comes a promise. ”if anyone makes you cry, i’ll get rid of them.”

he says it casually, so casually that you assume it’s a joke, a bout of breathless giggles pushing past your lips. the sound has his own curling up, and he doesn’t have the heart to correct you. has enough tact to know that this might not be the best moment to let you know that he’s honestly a little terrified of how far he’d be willing to go to keep you safe and happy. 

but you’re smiling, finally, laughing. and that matters more than anything. when he closes his eyes, he thinks he can even feel the telltale signs that his heart is picking itself back up, gluing jagged shards into a shape that resembles you.

"that's scary!” you gasp, amusement bubbling up inside your throat. ”you’d go to jail for me?”

satoru huffs. ”bold of you to assume i’d get caught,” he tuts, a smug smile on his face. it makes you giggle, again, and he feels like a god.

”okay, okay,”  you nose at his neck, breathing him in, strawberry lotion and laundry detergent filling your senses. ”please don’t kill anyone on my behalf, though.”

”no promises.”

”satoru…”

slowly, steadily, his heart begins to stitch itself together. it helps that you’re there, he thinks. helps that you’re pressed up against him, that you’re holding him, like he’s the safest thing in the world. like you trust him.

(the word tastes like molten honey and luscious berries, sickly-sweet on his tongue. he gulps it down hungrily.)

it’s healing. the weight of your arms around him, the breaths that brush against his neck. he holds you to keep you together, intact, to keep himself together. a shipwreck and a shore — he just isn’t sure which one of you is which. but your jagged edges fit just right with his own.

”i don’t like seeing you cry.”

you blink. gazing up at him, with a contemplative look in your eyes. it melts into something a little too close to guilt for his liking. shame.

”— but i still want you to let me see you like that.” satoru smiles, with a tilt of his head. snowy tufts of hair falling across his face. ”is that weird?”

a moment passes. then you hum.

”no,” you exhale, a little breathless. smiling, somewhat weak, but still enough to have his heart skipping a beat. ”i love that about you, satoru.”

”huh?” he gapes at you — blinking dumbly. ”love what? that i want to see you sob into my chest?”

”that you try,” you stifle a yawn, sleepily nuzzling into him, all tuckered out from crying. ”even when it makes you a little uncomfortable.”

satoru stills. 

silence fills the space between you. there’s nothing more to say. his tongue isn’t really cooperating with him, anyhow — all tied up. so he leaves a kiss on the top of your head, and doesn’t say a word about the tremor running through his chest. 

he hates seeing you cry. hates how powerless it makes him feel, how useless. hates the fact that he can’t always protect you from the world, from himself.

but you let him see you like that.

he thinks of your tears, crystalline and glassy, like translucent marbles on a summer shore — and sees the trust instead of the sorrow. he thinks of your tearstained face, meek and feeble, and knows it’ll always be enough to break his heart to pieces. 

he thinks of you, and tells himself that it’s worth it; just as long as he gets to bring that pretty little smile back to life. 

[hajihiko]

Do you have any favorite DR artists/inspos?

this might sound kinda, idk snooty? But i don't often get super inspired by visual artists... or like. Hmm. If "inspiring" = makes you want to create or think, then i mostly get inspired by music and stories and real life. (Pictures can tell stories however and i find THOSE very inspiring, like the one with Fuyuhiko and the train of girls that have died around him that i cant find rn but do send it if you know!)

I often take notes on specific things visual artists do (like how they colour or how they do hair) but it's a different feeling from inspiration to me, more like a sort of determination or interest or eagerness. Like a little nerd who's so excited to learn more. In a good way! But it's usually a few details that i zone in on and it'd be too many artists to count lol

Writing is art and sth that has actually directly inspired me to draw is fics by @causeitsagame (not JUST the ones that were my specific drug of choice ok)

I do get a general wow art inspo from ppl with really distinctive styles, like @crystallizedtwilight and @illusioncanthurtme--art ! THAT'S what i think of when ppl talk about 'style' in art lol

And i learned a lot from One Piece artist Ao on instagram, and mayapanda too....follow them if ur on there!! I miss them :'(

Aaaaand actually something i find MOST inspiring is ppl that know exactly what they enjoy and then they make it themselves, such as @foryoupeko (🤝 really liking a character and going ham on anything that pertains to them /verypos ) if they can do it so an i!!

And honestly like, everyone who's open and excited about a fandom. Sometimes i get shy about my interests and feel silly about how intense i can be and other ppl being really excited about stuff inspires me to keep sharing anyway <3 (like @cerealmonster15 this has nothing to do with DR but im saying it anyway hehehehehehe)

Oh sorry i got all caught up in myself and the different meaning of inspo! I do that a lot haha. you also asked about faves, period. @badlydrawnronpa

[watchoutforthefanfics]

alright gimme some of UR most cherished reddie headcanons!!

hiiiiiiiii

okay, okay

imma get into it

#1:

one of my faves is that Richie is like genuinely good at cooking.

Maggie Tozier put him into the kitchen to put his energy somewhere healthy, so he would help her with dinner like all the time. So he's good at it.

But, Richie doesn't do it often because it was like a family affair, and he's alone so he like doesn't really see the purpose of it. Hence, he eats shitty snacks and takeout.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Eddie does not know how to cook. Like at all.

I imagine his Mom had complete control of his diet, and then Myra did the very same, so Eddie never really got the chance to try anything for himself.

UNTILLLL

When Eddie (inevitably) comes to live with Richie, Richie starts cooking again. Because it's not just him and they can EAT together!!!

Eddie can't believe his fucking eyes, because Richie's actually cooking! And it's good!!!

Anyway, long story short, Eddie learns how to cook from Richie, and they like make food together for dinner and stuff and it's cute and domestic and maybe they confess over boiling pasta idk-

#2:

Eddie, because he was so sheltered, is really fucking curious.

I've talked a few times in fics about this (once coining it Kaspbrak Curiosity), but the main idea is that Eddie so stifled he's like super eager to experience and understand shit.

So like maybe when they were kids, his mom told him that candy was terrible for you. Well, Eddie would ask for a piece of Richie's chocolate bar because he'd never had one before and he was curious.

And when Eddie forgets, he loses that so he just gets comfortable, stays in his own lane.

When everyone gets reunited, though, it comes back. But it's still like a childhood curiosity, the innocent like wonder of the world.

It's like hinged on the whole 'Eddie is brave' thing. Like Eddie is nervous and paranoid because that's how he was raised to be, but at his core, Eddie is brave and curious, and wants to know the bounds of the world. And so, so eager to learn!!!

I can't think of anymore rn, but those are my two faves.

So like picture Eddie wanting to try new shit and dragging Richie with him. The idea of Eddie picking up random hobbies for a few months just so he can know what it's like.

Richie walking into the living room and Eddie having like 5 succulents on the window seal. Eddie trying every cuisine in the nearby vicinity, and figuring out what he loves and hates. Eddie randomly having an obsession with chess and makes Richie play him all the time because he'dnever really learned how to play. Just really random shit that Eddie never really had the opportunity to explore.

In total, Eddie kinda goes on a midlife crisis and does a bunch of shit that he never got to do (typically dragging Richie along in some way).

[toxicanonymity]

I know your name is literally anonymity but I sometimes wonder what you look like or what you like or hate etc. I just would love to learn something personal about you 😭🫶🏼 but I respect you being absolutely anonymous here. It's actually a very big privilege!

And: do you have anything planned in writing/posting, something we can be excited for? I'm such a big fan of your work

Tysm nonnie! 🖤🖤 I'm happy to share some things about myself (below). Sometimes I wanna be less anonymous, but sadly it's served me well with how obsessive haters can get. You can always ask stuff though, I'd answer what i can and ignore what I'm hesitant about.

Thinking of posting some Narcos next ... Perhaps in the raid AU, perhaps not, I have nearly finished fics or drabbles in both. But i also started a kinda unhinged thighs out Joel scenario lol.

Likes & Dislikes without being a perfectionist...

Beverages

Like: water, grape juice, apple juice, chocolate milk, hot chocolate, matcha, ginger tea, caffeine free diet coke (fountain only) with cherry syrup

Dislike: alcohol, regular coffee, orange juice

Breakfast

Like: biscuits and gravy, egg white veggie omelets, green smoothies, croissants, waffles, yogurt parfait

Dislike: pancakes, jelly and jam, donuts

Comfort foods: egg in a hole, coconut soup

Fave condiments/spices/sauce/toppings: vinegar, mayo, mustard, sour cream, steak seasoning (like it on potatoes), apple pie spice, alabama white & North Carolina BBQ sauces, pesto, goat cheese, pizza sauce (w/ a spoon if good enough lol), Parmesan, sundried tomatos

Pasta: angel hair, capellini, tortellini, linguini

Crayola crayons (idk if they're all current). Colors go by the crayon when you draw with it.

Like: pacific blue, cerulean blue, brick red, burnt sienna, dandelion, hot magenta, earthworm scented

Dislike: cornflower blue, green-yellow

Smells/scents

Currently wearing: Nette La Forêt. I'm in an exploration phase and trying a variety but this is my fave rn.

Like: Woody, clean, fresh, eucalyptus, lavender, rose, burning wax / snuffed out candle, new shoes, leather, new tires, new car, tennis balls. Notes: amber, sandalwood, cetalox, vanilla

Dislike: Heavy citrus, anise/liquoriche

Sweets

Like: ice cream, froyo, brownies (no nuts), paletas (🥥 is a fave), lucky charms marshmallows

Dislike: Cake, cupcakes, caramel, oatmeal raisin cookies, anything with nuts or raisins really. I will pick them out of arroz con leche...

Actors

Make me more likely to watch something: Boyd Holbrook, Pedro Pascal, Kyle gallner, Bill and Alexander Skarsgård, Denzel Washington, Kate Winslet, Nicholas Cage, Adam Driver

Dislike: John krasinski, Adam Sandler, Meg Ryan

Appearance - heart shaped face, eyes on the larger side, dark circles, upturned nose, smaller lips. Sometimes glasses (favoring larger lenses)

I'm up for answering other categories or Qs if you're curious about random stuff. No-gos are work, family/partner, location, zodiac.

If I skip a tag game I prob overthought it or drew a blank.

[t-rina]

12 What's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

22 Give us a headcanon for T'rina

12. what's the funniest or craziest AU idea you've ever come up with?

oh, i'm not sure i actually ever came up with a funny or crazy au idea? lemme think about that one.

Ok i thought about it. Since i'm super duper into disco rn you'll understand that i stick to that show for a bit as well.

A while ago i thought about what would have happened if Mirror!Georgiou and T'Rina had met and... in some strange way i think it would work out? Them together would be pretty much a crack ship but i got kinda obsessed with the idea of them meeting. Two powerful women, both *very* different characters, but both teasing, very self assured, hot&badass? Like yeah, that would have been great!

The AU therefore would be "what if mirror!georgiou would have stayed in the prime timeline and met the president of ni'var"

22. give us a headcanon for T'Rina.

why yes i would love to talk a bit about my fave disco character <3

I headcanon that T'Rina is a plant killer. Idk, the idea is just hilarious to me? Now I don't mean that she kills every plant she touches, but she either means wayyy to well (overwaters) or idk, she accidentally tips them over, and they always end up looking a bit ragged looking and whenever Saru comes over he's like "Rinnah, what the *hell* happened here???" and she's like "Ashal, whatever do you mean, I have had this plant for almost three weeks and it is still thriving" (thriving in this case means it has stagnated completely in it's growth, the roots have began to rot and some of the leaves are beginning to become yellow).

I wrote a fic once about her trying to frantically take care of the plant Saru gave her but kinda failing and having to ask for help again. After that it works out great, so yeah, she can keep plants alive if she is being told precicely how to care for them (i.e. she doesn't forget about them she's just abd at reading plants i guess). Saru leaves her in charge of his office exactly once. For two days. And never again.

thank you so much for the asks!

fandom ask game

[day-mark]

random question since you have a drusic quote in your profile: what sort of music do you enjoy?

oh thats a tough question tbh 😭 for genre i feel like its mostly pop and then followed by rock?? here i'll give u a small list of the current songs i have on loop/faves .. i feel like that might be more revealing if ur interested in listening!

always, everytime - the wrecks (Obsessed w this song rn, helps that i can relate some of the lyrics to dream lmao)

cheerleader - porter robinson

the adults are talking - the strokes

violet - wild party

dont sleep, repeat - 44phantom ft. mgk (shout out dream for this one LOL, i steal music from him a lot)

strange clouds - ufo ufo (xdnf song to me. if u /like/ that ship -> i like it in the, "their dynamic is so interesting and goes hard" not necessarily a romantic ship kinda way if that makes sense

pick me up - too close to touch (lot of the lyrics remind me of dream too o(-( i wanna make an art piece w some of the lyrics so bad actually )

2 a.m. - the candescents (fun fact, my manhunt fic i was planning out like 4 years ago was named after a lyric in this song)

harms way - stepdad (always wanted to make a manhunt animation to this song!)

ludens - bring me the horizon (u guessed it.. also wanted to make a dsmp/cdream focused-ish animation for this song)

falling - chase atlantic (i remember so vividly.. day of the face reveal.. someone dropped an edit of dream to this song and i associate it with him so hard to this day and im SO SAD i didnt save the edit bc i couldnt find it ever again :(((( )

all over - cruisr (reminds me of dnb but i dont think ur into that haha)

heaven is a place in my head - bad suns

baby blue shades - bad suns (srry got reminded of this song bc of the last one and i think it would sound soo pretty if dream covered it. idk anything about like vocal ranges and stuff tho so idk if itd actually fit, i just think its a pretty sounding song 😭)

figure 8 - peach pit (ALSO a song i think would sound so pretty if dream covered it :3)

bleed magic - idkhbtfm

modern day cain - idkhbtfm

and here are some more out of the box(?) ones

amanita - marmalade butcher

katagiri - buta musou

ENTIRE OKAMI SOUNDTRACK !!! it's so good one of my favorite video game osts of all time

trilogy - carpenter brut (i listen to this when i need to focus lol)

chasing daybreak - fire emblem three houses ost (also a very good soundtrack!! love So many of the songs)

god shattering star - fe soundtrack ^

blue skies and a battle - fe soundtrack ^ (definitely missing a lot of the tracks i also like but i'll just put a few cause this post is already getting so long 😭)

fsdjklfhsdjkf this turned into me just sharing songs bc i associate them w dream in some way 😭 I REALLY LIKE SHARING MUSIC W PEOPLE

also random question if u use spotify/similar app, do u like all the songs you enjoy?? sometimes i see people with liked songs in like. the hundreds including my sister. and i was talking to a coworker about music and she says she rarely likes the song and usually adds it to a playlist or listens by album. meanwhile i have 1.6k 😭

[itsnotmystic]

this may come as an absolute surprise /s

but. cTechno and cPhil. philza in general really. emeraldduo and also just whatever the hell Phil is doing

also chayanne and tallulah?

ohhh im absolutely vibrating rn. all 4 of my faves lmao.

Techno for sure, he was the first mcyt I watched in 2021 when I was getting back into minecraft and all that. Unfortunately, since he passed, cTechno kinda ends with dsmp so there's only so much canon I can work with yk

But yea, I used to not actually know too much about Philza tbh, not until half way through the qsmp/earlier this year even. Like yeah I was into his dsmp character, but once they started getting his hardcore dieties involved in qsmp is when I really started finding him interesting! It helps that ccPhil is commissioning 3 animatics for his characters lore, so yk, cPhilza content in 2024. (ill be so real, when qsmp started i was following ccwil and that's how I came to love Tallulah, and since he was gone all the time, I watched Phil for Tallulah which led to me liking him and chayanne as well. since I don't follow ccwil anymore, all my attention got shifted to ccPhil lmao)

AND YEAH CHAY AND LULLAH!! I got accepted to write a short fic about them for a qsmp zine and ended up writing 3.4k. They're babies. I love them. So much

[seattlesellie]

just wanna say u have my 1000% support takin a break from writing to process with the genocide going on in palestine. ur writing always feels very real and human, and i kinda believe that to a certain extent u can understand someone’s heart thru their writing, and so im def not surprised that you’re staying in touch with your humanity and feeling the feelings rn. im right there with u, personally taking a lot of comfort in linking up with organizing groups in my area cause it’s too much to process alone! ((and I’d be remiss not to mention that im revisiting my fave works of urs when I need a brain break)) u don’t have to answer this just wanted to add a lil voice of solidarity to ur inbox :) 🇵🇸

you’re such a lovely human being for this kind message and for spreading awareness on the subject this almost made me cry? i wish i replied as soon as you sent this but it got swallowed down in my inbox! like you said it just felt very wrong (for me personally) to write during these times. it still feels slightly odd cause you know how you wake up & immediately check twitter to see if the journalists you follow are still alive? then like you can’t stop thinking about them for hours on end? and you go on instagram/tumblr and everything seems “normal” even though it’s not? it’s just such a mindfuck. nevertheless i’m so happy you find some comfort in my fics 💗

just another reminder to support BDS, because as much as our marching and speaking out matter, taking actual actions — boycotting, hold such a greater power. none of us are free until palestine is 🍉

[moonshynecybin]

for fic asks and morning glory!

3. favorite part of narration ?

5. hardest part to write ?

9. were there alternate versions of this fic ?

3. fave part of narration:

i wanted to use this fic to explore how weird they are at the beginning of 2016 + some vague stuff on how marc’s injury weirdness comes into that and i think these two sections get at that pretty well! marc in early 2016 is kinda weird to me bc there’s NO WAY he’s not angry but well. he’d never sayyyyy that, and also he has a weird tone to some of his interviews where you get the sense that he’s waiting for the sepang stuff to blow over and for vale to get friendly again. like maybe not besties but at least chill. and vale is like. actually somewhat hot and cold in that regard imo. the barcelona stuff from that year comes to mind!!

so i thought i could dial all that to 11 by getting marc emergency medically evacuated at like. cota and then that retraumatizes vale + marc is flirting w people + he’s in a genderbend so vale’s weird gen x brain is like awesome i can be SUPER blatant in hitting on him in this bar rn… idk i wanted to interrogate that weird liquid place they’re at in early 2016 before either of them know that the feud is gonna last ten years minimum and define a large swath of their legacy. like the hope they can get over it versus the inability to do so. and at the end of the fic i think they’re both starting to understand it…

and:

5. hardest part to write:

i hate this paragraph to this day it’s like i’m giving a lab report thereis no pathos in it. whatever i will fix her ONE DAY. also the ending i hate the endings on like most of my fics tbh. im the stephen king of motorcycle yaoi fic

9. were there alternate versions of this fic:

only in the sense that i made narrative decisions as i went! largely the jorge bookends, but no real alt version or ending. it was ALWAYS supposed to end a lil unhappy and they were always gonna fuck nasty and feel weird about it

[rosesradio]

Choose violence: 2, 6, 19 (for PJO/HOO/TOA)

2.) a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

i know i’m gonna sound like a hypocrite rn because i did write a (rather long, college aged before people come into my inbox 👁️👁️) valdangelo smut, but in writing that i realized i don’t really see them as a smutty couple. gray-ace icons fr

that being said i still have some Thoughts. and smutty dynamics and the reasonings behind them are a very nuanced topic, but. leo would not be a top—I just don’t think he has the confidence or feels the need to. and nico would not be a bottom, mostly because, while he would need to be very trusting in sex, he wouldn’t want to put that much direction in another person. i think nico would be a power bottom and leo a service top, that way nico can kinda call the shots and leo can take care of him while still kinda taking charge in the physical sense, if that makes sense. the dynamic works to me

6.) which ship fans are the most annoying?

…solangelo fans. i’m sorry 😭 i love my solangelo mutuals and followers, y’all are the best. and even though i dislike the ship i respect that there’s potential in it for others. but i mean the fans that just live & breathe Incorrect Quotes and see no flaws with tsats and want to harvest the souls of people who see anything wrong with their ship or the canon content…it’s a little wild 👀

19.) you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

i’m actually not really ashamed of any of my tastes! i have my preferences and like to curate a space of people that all respect each other, it’s pretty neat! the only thing i’m embarrassed about is not speaking out sooner about my love of dark fic in the pjo fandom—it’s a big space but if anyone gives me trouble I’ll block them. it’s very freeing ✨

[seiwas]

hello sel talk to me about your most recent blorbos 🫡🫵

noos!! omg hello 🥺 you are so sweet to ask this sdfbjsh

my most recent blorbos!! omg tbh i haven't picked up a new anime in so long... and i think i am Chronically Loyal hfbhas i stick to my set of faves for the longest time... BUT i guess the recent ones that aren't really blorbo level but have just made me look at them differently:

osamu — actually liked him first!! but then tumblr happened and sold atsumu to me so i've liked atsumu for the longest time (sadly) but then i read this osamu fic from augustine 😭 then even more... then i read @/sashimiyas osamu stuff too and am now just... in love w him too 😭

yuuta — i never used to understand his appeal sdbfsajd then some of my friends explained to me that there's a devotion to him sbfjs that kinda borders yan hsdfba and how he goes unhinged too sbdfa AND THEN... i see one of my moots talk about him often too AND THEN i saw guilty challenge fanarts of him... so now it's just IMPOSSIBLE to see him the same way 😭

choso — i became a choso fucker very slowly jhsbf and it started with seeing my moots talk so much about him anD THEN i wasn't fully convinced yet after seeing him this season but !! i did find him rlly pretty 🥺 what rlly tipped me over is this series by emmie jsdbfa i WENT SO INSANE when she sent me what she wrote 😭 there's just smth abt him...

wriothesley — being so real rn i don't genshin at all. but i saw a gifset of him and he looked so hot, then started talking to my friends about him and then started seeing fanart and got the backstory asbgjs and then a friend sent me a clip of him too and it made me go bRRR. i also listen to his audio stuff from time to time (idk what u call it... but theyre just stuff on his story ig idk) ANYWAY HE'S SO HOT IDK WHAT TO DO W MYSELF

wbu noos!!!!! who are ur blorbos recently!!

[canayams-art]

the immortality concept in tgcf is always interesting to think about, especially with the age range that the human mind cannot really comprehend... but maybe it's best for me not to think too much about it at midnight when i have uni early in the morning 😞😭 there are a lot of thoughts tho

you described the dynamic i had in mind for them perfectly!! mq's way of showing care by scolding and nagging and teasing that at time could come out as a touch too sharp. lqq's of being loud when defending and engaging into banter but keeping it light and not taking the teasing too close to heart unless it comes to his morality stands. they just weirdly compliment one another, especially with the way you said lqq takes the spotlight on the stage while mq is more "behind the curtain" type when dealing with things. you're so right, thinking about them makes me deranged as well

i do feel like the gods would be more vocal about the dislike towards mq when he was still a young god, and yeah especially those 33. while mq we see is well respected, and still very much disliked and distrusted, it is mq of 800+ years of presence in the heavenly court, and i do think many would be tight lipped around him regarding whatever his business are. but thinking about the backlash he would be facing during their earlier years/ centuries of friendship, i think they would be more vocal about it, if a bit sneaky with the way they would talk considering mq's temper with fx and general reputation that has been following him. 🤔 and well... there's also the broom throwing thing that has been going on apparently :'))

and he would definitely be on the bigger receiving end of it than lqq, especially considering their backgrounds and what the heaven considers "right". while lqq may be considered naive, he is still a noble that technically belongs in a way mq never could in their eyes.

but lqq still not standing by the bullying, even during the 'fight' is ekejjejejeej especially because i lqq knows that bullying is wrong no matter who's at the receiving end and, parallel to the mulian situation, there would be no shielding behind the higher authority to make it stop, just a very straightforward way to handle it. and i feel like mq, even if he is somewhat even struggling to admit he's miserable without lqq, would feel extremely touched knowing the way lqq would handle it 🥹🥹

no shade at mulian, literally my fave ship ever! i talk about them so much to my friends i feel like all of our brains are fried at this point lol they can fit so much angst and there are honestly dozens of ideas for fics that would likely never see the light of the day but we have the hope cuz we're all delusional 😔✊

just the parallels between them make me absolutely crazy, especially since i always kinda pictured mq as a type to get particularly adopted by the idealistic "sunshine type" people around him and get dragged around while he scowls and acts like he doesn't enjoy it, and then eventually ending up genuinely liking them, no matter how much they would clash at times with their ideologies. xl, sqx, i have an ongoing rants about mq and qyz friendship every other week. kinda pissed off that i didn't remember lqq until recently but it's never too late to start the brainrot anyway

i also went and checked the extras qianqing interaction, and it was actually mq seeing that lqq was in an awkward position being both the victim and the culprit and trying to send him back to heaven (it was the extra chapter where xl felt pain bcs of the guoshi mask he melted into a key?? i only searched for their names so again i have no idea/) but that was enough to have me covering my mouth and squealing

no at this point i will have to write *something* about qianqing, it would literally eat at me alive if i don't. life is busy and hard rn, but it will have to be done in this lifetime 😭

Mq has always given me the sense that he seeks out people with more emotional freedom than he feels he has. He spends so much of his time showing restraint and being distant that whenever I read sections of the book where Fu Yao makes an appearance, I see the way he lets his personality come out more. Maybe choosing the name “Fu Yao” was (among other reasons) mq’s way of literally saying he’s giving himself more freedom.

So like— it makes sense that mq has a pattern of associating with people who express themselves so freely— even if he sometimes takes shots at those people (mostly fx but also occasionally xl). Lqq is entirely unrestrained in a way that’s familiar but still unique. He’s one of the few gods who would step in or stand up for another without any ulterior motives— there’s nothing lqq would want to gain by standing up for mq in their early years. Whether he’s still angry with mq or not— it’s the right thing to do and that’s enough for him.

Meanwhile I feel like mq hates feeling like he’s once again being seen to hide behind another prince for protection. Mq likes to be in control of his circumstances— even if he could ask for help.

“I don’t need anyone fighting my battles.”

“No— but someone should have your back.”

Maybe that’s what it is about them actually? Lqq is so quick to jump up and declare injustice that mq thinks lqq would be trying to shield him when lqq is actually trying to advocate for his better treatment. Lqq learned the importance of unity and he practiced it well before ascending, so his type of support might be less about defending mq personally and more about shaming the gods for not setting a better example. Maybe he doesn’t even give mq the option to hide behind him.

(Related note, I can’t help thinking this type of tension would rise if lqq caught mq throwing a broom or snapping it in half— like ofc lqq is still mad but ofc he’s gonna try and connect the dots— maybe he even heard some of the gods laughing about their “gifts” to the young General.)

But okay now I’m thinking about the extra you mentioned and oooooooo

Mq confronting lqq in the mortal realm and failing to convince him to return to heaven. It’s a side of lqq mq has never seen. He’s not driven by a sense for justice anymore, now lqq wants revenge— maybe mq tells him that. Maybe it only angers lqq more. Either way, lqq doesn’t return.

(I actually have a similar scenario in my brain between lqq and newly-mortal pei xiu, which was actually the idea that got me started in qianxiu rarepair hell but that’s a separate space altogether LMAO)

Anyway—! If writing is too exhausting given life’s demands I am always happy to keep exploring these deranged (affectionate) scenarios. Life persists, but so does the brainrot!

[jellolegos]

Please, help me. I’m on my knees, begging… (kinda new to the fandom here)

1. Where’s that Westenray “Sept 17 letter” from? Is it from a fic? From a book? Kindly, tell me and where can I find it? 😭

2. Just a few mos ago, I read a Westenray fic but I lost it and can’t find it anymore. It’s a fic where Lucy went away to move on. Mina found her (somehow?) and then due to some circumstances, she needed to live with Lucy, and Mina has a kid too (i think?) that she named after Lucy. Are you familiar with this fic? Or your followers, maybe?

I need gay content and rn, I’m obsessing over Westenray. Help. 🥲 (esp rn when wlw shows are being cancelled one after the other 🤦‍♀️)

Thank you so so so much. 🥺

Friend I have bad news, that is a quote from the canon text (p 146) :(

It's definitely not said in the context implied by my drawing though! (Although I think someone smarter than I am can and probably has made an argument that Lucy's suggested homosexuality could actually well fit into the morality as monstrosity paradigm set up by Stoker, at least that's what I believe!)

I havent read much fic for westenray except for my fave fix it, so I unfortunately have no clue about the fic, maybe someone else might though!

[victor-aguilar]

Okay i came here to ask your fave moments in the dn musical but then I saw you have a dn theatre au?? Pls tell me EVERYTHING (and also your fave dntm moments)

OMG HI I LOVE YOUR BLOG IS SOOO COOL ALSO OMG TY YEAH!! You're actually the first person to ask me abt dntm, which is one of my favourite things to talk abt alshslsj.

Favourite DNTM scene has gotta be mortals and fools i think. stalemate and twta close seconds... just !!! the way misa is so sure of herself and kira's love and how sure she is of it being reciprocated... and rem's pleading to try and convince misa love is nothing but bad. and ughhh ALL WHILE??? ALL WHILE SHE HERSELF FALLS FOR MISA??? OBSESSED.

i mean i could go on abt everything but i haven't watched the musical in full, so really all i know is the songs and im this obsessed yikes

also my standard reminder to you all LISTEN TO DEAN JOHN WILSONS THE WAY THINGS ARE okie ty

now to actually answer your question sksjdkslj

MY AU!!! THANK YOU FOR ASKING!! TYTYTYTYSMMM

SO BASICALLY It's this au, where L, light and misa are best friends in their freshman year. misa is the most popular girl in school, she's basically a princess and everyone worships her. Light, her boyfriend, is the most popular guy in school as well the smartest. everyone wants to be his friend, or go out with him, or be him. as for him being the smartest, it's kinda true. he has this academic rival, l lawliet. they tie in everything. they have this very heated competition to who is the best at everything. all the other students think they despise each other, but that's actually far from the truth. they're best friends!! they have been since they five actually. they just both let their egos get the best of them. misa is just as part of the group as the other two btw!!!

so, the three are cast as the leads every year in the musical. they have been every year, this was how it worked, no one else seemed to have a problem with it either, so it went unchanged. misa and light were usually the romantic leads, and l would be the other male lead, like for example 7th grade, they were light/jack, misa/kath and l/davey in newsies! anyway, this year however, they find out, (to the boys horror) l and Light were cast as the romantic leads this time. anyway, this leads to painful revelations, healthy communication, unhealthy secrets and suppression and melodrama!!!

agjjddjk that's the main summary of it least. the fic will progress over the course of the year, with occasional flashback chapters bc their backstory in this au is probably my favourite part. there are many things still in development rn, like what to name the fic, and what their school musical should be, anyway yeah!! chapter 1 should be out soon, it's the first day of school :) yeah, tysm for listening!!! and asking ^_^