#writing this to remind me to not hate younger people or younger generation

[satorulovebot]

so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter one

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — you get the chance to meet the infamous gojou satoru while working on your journalism project at suzuka circuit. what could you possibly want from him?

✧₊⁺ word count — 6.3k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), age gap, alcohol use, mature themes, mentions of cheating, substance abuse, themes of marriage and divorce

✧₊⁺ notes — hello everyone! i asked you awhile ago on a poll which series you would like to see after cursed seas and f1 gojo won the poll and then i posted the masterlist and everyone wants it so you get it now. so here it is. and NO its not happy NEVER expect happiness from me because im allergic to it. also the reader being nosy af is inspired by me and my parents telling me i should be a journalist with how nosy i am.

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

next. (coming soon)

You moved to Tokyo with your family when you were younger.

You grew up in a rural part of the country, surrounded by farmers and people either ready to retire or nearing the end of their lives. Your parents hated living there, and so did you—for one, there were hardly any kids to play with, and two, as your father would say, "too many old fuckers lying around."

When you moved to Tokyo, your family decided to celebrate by taking you to a Formula 1 race. Your dad thought it would be perfect for the two of you since fixing up old cars had always been your daddy-daughter activity.

You didn’t like the idea of racing at first—the noise was too loud, and the idea of people speeding toward a black-and-white checkered line seemed ridiculous. But the moment you heard the roar of the engines and watched the lights go from red to green, you were captivated, a fascination that would stay with you for years.

When you got your first computer, you began looking up videos of F1 drivers. One day, you stumbled across a video titled “The Biggest F1 Scandals in History,” and that was when you decided you wanted to go into journalism.

You were nosy, to say the least. So, it was no surprise to your parents when you announced to them that you wanted to pursue journalism as a career. Your father reminded you how you’d always been curious, listening in on others’ conversations and keeping up with the latest school drama.

When you applied for journalism school, you were accepted into one of the top programs in the world—Sophia University. Your parents were proud that you’d made it into such a highly ranked school for journalism in Japan.

You were now in your fourth and final year at Sophia, and enjoying your journalism class. Recently, your professor assigned a project: write a story about a major pop culture figure of your choice, and for extra credit, get an interview with them. Your professor knew it was damn near impossible, but he was always optimistic that one day, someone would get that interview and he could retire in peace.

That project led you here: Suzuka Circuit, Japan's main Formula 1 track. Your chosen figure was none other than Gojou Satoru—F1's biggest driver in recent years. He was your father's favorite among the new-generation drivers, known for his string of controversies since he started on top of the persistent rumors of his heavy drug use before races.

You had managed to snag a media passs from your professor when you mentioned doing an F1 driver for your project. He was able to pull some strings to get you into the media booth, getting you a closer look at Gojou Satoru in person.

You watched the pre-race preparations closely from the media booth, your fingers hovered above your notepad as you waited for the race to start. You were determined to get a good grade on this project, and that meant adding every single detail to your report about this race.

It was about time for the drivers to gather in their garages, each wearing headsets and ready for the pre-race briefing. The briefing typically covers the race start, various pit stop scenarios, and a detailed weather report. Before each race weekend, they usually spend time in a simulator of the track they'll be racing on, preparing them for the upcoming race.

After about thirty-minutes the racers came out of their garages in their respective cars. They each line up based on the results of a quaifying session that takes place before the race, slowest qualifier in the back, fastest in the front. Gojou Satoru was at the front of the grid, which meant he was one of the qualifiers who had the fastest time.

You waited around for a little while longer turning your attention to what was happening around you. Eventually, you made your way back to the front of the media booth as the race started, ready to report.

The engines revved as each driver began preparing for the start of the race, each car vibrating on the starting grid like a beast straining at its chains. Gojou sat at the front of the lineup, his hands loose on the wheel, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he waited for the lights to turn green.

The roar from the grandstands faded, becoming a blur of sound as the lights ticked down: red, red, red, red… green.

He slammed the throttle, feeling the raw force of the car’s engine kick him back into his seat as he tore down the straight. Other cars jostled for position behind him, all fighting to claim the inside line into the first turn.

Through his earpiece, he heard the voice of his race engineer, Shokou, calm as ever. “Clear on turn two, you’ve got five-tenths on Hayashi. Stay tight.”

But Gojou barley heard her. The car was an extension of him, responding to his every thought, every split-second decision. He pushed down the straights, his right foot heavy on the accelerator, taking corners at speeds most drivers wouldn’t dare attempt. The sound of his tires skidding against the asphalt, the blur of the track side barriers, the lights of Tokyo reflecting off his mirrors—it all blended into a single, perfect rush.

Gojou could see the next turn ahead, a tight chicane that could send the best drivers into the barriers if they weren't careful. He braked hard, turning the wheel with perfect precision to angle the car through. He could feel the back end wobbling, but he didn't flinch, drifting perfectly as he swung back onto the racing line, gaining another second on the pack.

He could almost hear the collective gasp of the crowd in his head as he slipped through the chicane. This was his playground. Every race was a chance to remind the world why he was the best.

“Coming up on a DRS zone,” Shoko’s voice crackled in his ear, grounding him, though he was already on it

He waited for the perfect moment, watching the rear-view mirror to see the faint outline of Hayashi's car. He pressed the DRS, and his car shot forward, the drag reduction giving him a temporary speed boost that had him pulling away, putting him in the lead.

The track opened up ahead, the second sector full of wide, sweeping turns. Here was where raw speed mattered more than anything. Gojou pressed down hard on the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. He leaned forward, watching the track fly by, the white lines blurring as he focused entirely on the road ahead.

For a second, the sound in his earpiece went dead, the faint sound of static filling his ears. Then Shokou was back. “You’ve got Yoshida closing in on your tail. He’s pushing hard.”

Gojou glanced up at the mirrors, his eyes catching the bright blue and orange of Yoshida's car looming larger. The familiar thrill sparked in him. So, Yoshida thought he had a chance, did he? Well, he’d show him otherwise.

“Copy,” he muttered into his mic, eyes narrowing as he took the next corner, barley touching the brakes. He felt the tires skid but he managed to control the drift, knowing any slip would open the door for Yoshida to slip past.

He whipped into another straight, his hands steady on the wheel as he hit a top speed.

His foot didn’t so much as twitch as the engine’s roar morphed into a high-pitched scream as the car closed the distance.

The curve ahead was brutal—a tight 90-degree bend that demanded precise timing.

In a split-second decision, he did something no one expected. He braked late, his heart pounding as he cut the turn at a speed that sent the back end skidding. The tires gripped just in time, allowing him to pull out of the corner without losing traction. He could almost feel the shock reverberating as he regained control, his lead still intact.

As the laps wore on, his body moved on instinct, every gear shift, every turn becoming a single, fluid motion. One lap. Two. Three, with two pit stops between. He counted them off one by one, his mind buzzing with the pure rush of speed and the heat inside the car, barely noticing the time passing. The crowd faded into nothing, the world shrinking down to the track and his car.

The final lap. This was it.

“Box this lap if you’re in trouble,” Shokou’s voice crackled again. “Tire degradation is high.”

But Gojou’s grip on the steering wheel only tightened. His front tires were holding out—barely. It would be tight, but he could make it. He’d run this last lap on sheer determination alone if he had to.

“Negative, Shokou. I’m taking it,” he replied, and then turned off the earpiece, tuning out everything except the track and the car in front of him.

He launched into the final lap, throwing caution to the wind. Yoshida was right on his tail now, close enough that he could see the gleam of his headlights in the mirrors. But Gojou didn’t back down. He took each turn aggressively, blocking Yoshida's attempts to pass, forcing him to fall back every time.

The last chicane loomed ahead, his final obstacle before the finish line. He tightened his grip, the wheel trembling under his hands. He took the chicane fast, too fast, almost feeling the wheels lift off the ground as he flew out of the turn. The car rocked, but he held steady, pushing the pedal to the floor.

The finish line was in sight, a faint white line at the end of the straight, and with one last push, he crossed it, the checkered flag waving in his periphery as he tore past.

It was only after he’d crossed over the line that the realization hit him—he’d won.

The cheers erupted in the stands, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he slowed down, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Shoko’s voice crackling back in as she shouted, “You pulled it off, you insane bastard.”

Gojou grinned, leaning back in his seat, still buzzing. He’d done it again, just as he always did.

The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, Gojou was surrounded by his team. Shokou was the first to reach him, her usually composed face split by a wide grin. She grabbed his helmet and thumped him on the shoulder hard enough so he actually felt it though the layers of his suit.

“You reckless son of a—”

“Language, Shokou,” Gojou interrupted, grinning as he yanked off his gloves, waving to the rest of the Tokyo Jujutsu Racing team that swarmed him.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch you pull stunts like that? I’m gonna need a raise after today’s heart attack,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on, Shokou. That was just a little fun.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s my confetti?”

“Coming right up, your royal highness." Someone handed him a bottle of champagne, still cold and slick, and he twisted the cap, spraying a wild arc of foam that showered his team and nearby fans.

His PR manager, Nanami, clapped him on the back. “You’re insufferable."

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle in a mock toast, flashing him a grin. The media’s cameras clicked and flashed, capturing every moment as his crew continued their congratulations.

The crowd pressed close against the barriers, shouting his name, waving homemade banners with scribbled slogans and his number embellished with the colors red and black. He walked closer, one arm raised, acknowledging the fans, letting their cheers fill him up, louder and louder with every step.

But as he continued walking, his gaze caught on something—or rather, someone—just beyond the crowd.

At first it was just a hint curiosity, the way your gaze was fixed on him. A bit removed from the chaos, you leaned against one of the barriers with a media pass hanging around your neck, arms folded as you watched from a distance.

Gojou slightly narrowed his eyes, holding your gaze longer than he'd held any fan's tonight, as if he was daring you to look away first.

“What the hell is that about?” he muttered under his breath, gaze moving back to Shokou for half a second.

“Hm?” Shokou followed his gaze, but her eyes slid right past you, uninterested. “Press. You’ll get used to it. Come on, they’re all waiting.”

He forced himself to break the stare, clearing his throat as Shokou ushered him toward the media pen, where a lineup of journalists waited, all armed with recorders, microphones, and notebooks.

He fielded the usual questions—how did it feel to win, what was his mindset, what was he thinking on that last turn? His answers were always the same practiced ones, words sliding out like clockwork.

“Well, Mr. Gojou, what would you say to those who believe your racing style is a little… aggressive?” one journalist asked, a little smirk on her face as if she thought she was catching him off guard.

He snorted. “They can call it what they want. I call it winning.” He shrugged. “I don’t come out here to play it safe.”

A few reporters laughed at his remark, clearly interested in what else he had to say as a fresh wave of questions started.

Somewhere behind the flashing lights, he saw you again, lingering a few feet behind the crowd of reporters with that calm gaze fixed on him. You didn’t raise a recorder or a camera, didn’t even make an effort to push closer for a question. You just… watched.

It was disconcerting.

“Gojou!” Another journalist waved a microphone his face, snapping his attention back to the current situation. “What’s the next step for you this season?”

He forced a smile, eyes briefly looking back to you before he focused on the question. “The same as always,” he said. “Push harder, get faster, and give everyone something to talk about.”

The crowd laughed again, though, he barely heard them, too focused on the strange woman staring right into his soul. The two of you locked eyes and you have him a small nod, as if acknowledging that you were in fact staring into his soul.

“Well, I think that’s enough,” Shokou said suddenly at his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They’ll have plenty of time to hound you later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, though he let her guide him away. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.

But you were already gone.

Gojou slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the bustling garage and dodging the congratulatory slaps on his back, the endless rounds of handshakes, and the celebratory shouts. He ducked past a few journalists, ignoring the barrage of questions still hurled his way, his smile slipping as he finally found the door to the bathroom.

Inside, the cool, sterile silence was jarring compared to the noise outside, but he let out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked the lock and leaned against the sink, running his hands over his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

The victory high had worn off, leaving behind a familiar pressure he could not cope with. It settled on his shoulders like an old, unwelcome friend.

He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders, how deeply it would itself into him when he was alone. The race had been perfect, his win flawless, but he could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him, a pulsing throb being his eyes. He clenched his jaw, glaring at himself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

But his words fell flat, swallowed up by the silence. In the mirror, his own eyes stared back at him, tired, almost hollow.

He reached into the pocket of his racing suit, fingers brushing over the small, familiar packet hidden in the inner lining. It was a stupid habit, a reckless one really, but it was one he hadn't been able to shake, no matter how many times he tried to quit. He could practically feel the temporary relief in the palm of his hand.

He closed his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of the packet before pulling it out, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He ripped it open tapping a small line onto the smooth counter top. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own, as if it was part of his routine of suiting up or gripping the wheel.

The powder glinted under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights, almost mocking him with its simplicity. Just a quick escape, just enough to take the edge off. That’s all he needed.

He leaned down, closing one nostril and inhaling sharply, feeling the sting as the powder hit his nose. He straightened his back, blinking hard, the world around him sharpening as his mind cleared. A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned back against the sink, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension in his muscles fading away.

But it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in, that hollow feeling settling in his chest, a reminder that this wasn't the answer. He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, how he was destroying his body from the inside out, how it could all come crashing down. And yet… here he was.

“Fucking pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jolting him back to reality.

“Gojou? You in there?” It was Shokou. “They’re waiting for you out here.”

He stuffed the empty packet back into his pocket, brushed the last of the substance off of the sink, and glanced in the mirror one last time to check his reflection, making sure there was no trace left of his momentary escape.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, forced a smirk, and unlocked the door.

Shokou was standing there, arms crossed, her gaze scrutinizing as he stepped out. She didn’t say anything, but her judgmental eye lingered over him for a split second too long.

“You good?”

“Never better."

“Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced, but she dropped it, gesturing for him to follow her.

As the celebrations continued, Gojou weaved his way through fans and team-members alike who were still wrapped up in their post-race celebrations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find the strange woman from earlier who he noticed had a press pass, thinking you would be here.

And then he saw you, leaning against a stack of crates near the garages, observing the current scene with the same judgmental eyes that Shokou had. The media badge hung from your neck, swaying slightly as you shifted your weight, pulling out a notebook and flipping through it, seemingly absorbed in what you were currently doing.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the echo of his footsteps giving his presence away.

You looked up, your brow raised as he came closer, a hint of intrigue flashing in your eyes.

“Looking for something?” you asked, not moving as he stopped in front of you.

“You could say that,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze darted to the notebook in your hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, off in the shadows. Didn’t feel like joining the crowd?”

“Not my style.” You shrugged. “I’m not here to cheer. I’m here to report.”

“Journalist, huh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “What’s your angle?”

“The truth,” you said, a little smile pulling at your lips as you studied him. “Not everyone’s a fan of that, I know.”

“Depends on what you call the truth. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve already got your version.”

"How perceptive. I’m doing a piece on your racing career, your achievements, but… the public wants a fuller picture, don’t you think?

“Not sure I follow. Everyone knows what they need to know.”

“Not quite,” you replied, flipping through your notebook. “There’s more than just racing stats when it comes to Gojou Satoru, isn’t there?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“People say you’re… unraveling. Your recent ‘questionable decisions’ are starting to paint a different picture, don’t you think?” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook. “The accidents, the fines, the constant change in pit crews—”

“Is this some kind of witch hunt?” he interrupted. “Because I’d hate to disappoint you, princess, but I’ve heard it all.”

“Maybe so.” You leaned in a bit, meeting his stare. “But what about the whispers that aren’t out yet? The suspicions about you cheating the drug tests, your team shielding you—” You paused. “There’s a lot of money on your success, Mr. Gojou.”

“Money and racing have always gone hand-in-hand, don’t you think? You’d have a hard time finding someone out here who hasn’t bent a rule or two.”

“True enough.” You titled your head slightly. “But even the most golden careers have a way of losing their shine.”

"Tell me—do you enjoy tearing people down for a living?”

“Only if it’s warranted,” you replied unfazed. “People aren’t interested in perfect stories. They want the flaws, the dirt. It makes it all more real. At least that's what my professor believes."

“You’ve got a wicked mind, I’ll give you that. But I hope you realize you’re not the first to come sniffing around for the ‘real story’.”

A pregnant pause settles between you before you asked, “And what about her?”

A beat passed before he answered. “Who?”

“Your wife. She’s been… noticeably absent from the press circuits. And rumor has it things aren’t exactly picture-perfect between you two.”

“Rumor has it,” he repeated. “Guess you know how it is in this business. There’s always some rumor or another.”

“So it’s just a rumor, then? All the time apart, the missed events, her name suddenly missing from every headline. You’re saying there’s nothing to it?”

“People are eager to make stories out of nothing. My private life is just that—private.”

“That’s interesting,” you murmured, not looking away. “Because the most recent stories about you and her—they’re awfully detailed. People are noticing, wondering why she’s suddenly… disappeared from the scene.”

“Let them wonder. Like I said, people will talk. And it seems like you’re more interested in gossip than journalism.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Journalism is about uncovering the truth,” you countered. “But it seems like you’re more comfortable brushing things under the rug than addressing them.”

His smile returned, his carefully crafted facade sliding back into place as he straightened up, glancing away from you, clearly bored of the conversation. "Maybe someday you'll get the truth you're so desperate for, but it's not going to be today."

Before he walked away completely, he gave you one last look, his tone playful but laced with a hint of warning. “Be careful what you dig up, princess. Sometimes the truth’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

And with that, he turned his back to you, disappearing into the crowd.

Gojou returned home after the long night of celebrations had died down, the adrenaline from the race long gone, now replaced by a gnawing emptiness that felt like it might hollow him out. His penthouse was in the hear of Tokyo—a sleek, modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the neon-drenched skyline.

As he opened the door, the soft him of the city below was drowned out by the sound of footsteps, His wife, Hana, appeared from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit, her dark hair pulled back, a looking a frustration etched onto her face.

“You’re late."

“Didn’t realize I was on a curfew,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t act like that.” Her eyes flashed as she followed him into the living room. “You missed the dinner with my parents again. They’ve been asking about you, wondering why you’re never around.”

“Hana, I just won a race,” he replied, exasperated. “Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to play the doting son-in-law tonight.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Of course, it’s always about the race with you. Everything is about that damn career, isn’t it?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“Maybe I didn’t know it would mean you disappearing for days, weeks sometimes, chasing whatever thrill you think you need to feel alive.”

“What’s your point, Hana? We’ve had this argument a hundred times.”

“The point is, Satoru,” she said, voice trembling with anger, “that you seem to care more about everything else than this marriage. I’m just a fixture in your life, something you come back to whenever you need to check a box or show face. But you’re never really here.”

He let out a harsh laugh, the bitter sound filling the apartment. "Here we go again. Hana, it’s not like you’ve been some shining example of commitment either. You’ve known what this is for months.”

“What this is?” Her voice rose, cracking slightly as she repeated his words. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Satoru? A sham? A partnership for appearances? I thought you loved me…"

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued softly, her voice breaking. “The lying, the pretending. It’s exhausting.”

“So what do you want me to say, Hana? That I’m some perfect husband?” He gestured to himself, shaking his head with a smirk that looked almost pained. “We’re both guilty here. Let’s not act like this hasn’t been a slow-motion train wreck.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“What do you want from me, Hana?” he asked quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “You want me to pretend I’m someone I’m not?”

“I want… I wanted the man I married. The one who cared, who had dreams."

“Then maybe,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, “it’s time to stop pretending.”

As Gojou stood there running a hand through his hair. Hana paused, her expression shifting from something resigned to something wounded.

“And there’s one more thing."

He looked at her, brow furrowing. “Fucking Christ Hana, what now?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Satoru?” she asked, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I know what’s out there. The rumors. The whispers about who you’re with when you’re not here. Or maybe you think I don’t hear them.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hana, they’re just rumors. You know how the press is—they’ll twist anything for a story.”

“Twist what, exactly? Why do they have something to twist in the first place?”

“They don’t have anything. It’s just the media looking for something to make people read. Speculation sells.”

“Right. Speculation. But funny how it’s always about you, always linked to another woman.”

“That’s because I’m under a microscope. People love to create scandals, especially with someone like me. And you know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not just them, Satoru. People talk, and it’s not just baseless gossip. I’m not naive. I hear things from people close to you, people who actually know you.”

“You really believe them? You think I’m out there, risking everything for some—” He stopped himself, biting his tongue.

“Do I? I don’t even know my own husband anymore. Maybe I should ask them. Or maybe I should ask you directly, Satoru. Are you seeing someone?”

“Why are we even doing this?”

“Because I want the truth. Just once. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

“Believe what you want, Hana. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Then maybe that’s all I need to know.”

Gojou stormed out of his apartment, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to shake off his frustration. He'd had enough for one night. His heart was pounding and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to get out, to drown the anger with something that could at least help him forget.

The bar he found was tucked away down a dim side street in Shibuya. It wasn't anything fancy–a dark cry from the glitzy nightlife he was used to–but it was dark and quiet which was exactly what he needed. He slid onto a bar stool and motioned for a drink, not bothering to pay attention to what the bartender poured.

He sipped his drink in silence, trying to tune out the night and all the noise in his head. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction that numbed his anger and frustration. He was almost on his third drink when he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a notebook, tapping her pen against her cheek in thought.

She's cute, he thought to himself. He squinted trying to get a better look at the young woman, and he immediately recognized, it was you.

Of all the places he'd expect to see you, this shitty bar wasn't one of them. You looked so absorbed in your work, like you were piecing together something for a story. Satoru's curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up carrying his drink as he made his way over to where you were sitting.

"Well, well," he said, leaning against the back of the chair across from you. “Didn’t peg you for a bar rat, but maybe I was wrong.”

Your head snapped up, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Gojou Satoru. What a surprise.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already taking the seat.

“Didn’t think someone like you would end up in a place like this. Celebrating?”

He gave a dry laugh, swirling the glass in his hand. “Something like that.”

“So, what are you doing here, really? Figured you’d be at a fancy cafe, writing about some important news story.”

“Maybe I am. Research is research, even if it’s in a bar. Maybe it’s you I’m writing about.”

“So I’m your new project, huh?”

“Maybe. It’s part of this little journalism course I’m doing. We’re supposed to pick a public figure and write a profile. Someone who’s got a… colorful public image.”

“Colorful, huh?” He smirked. “Guess I’m your lucky target. Hope I make an interesting subject."

“Interesting is one word for it,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What’s got you so quiet tonight? I thought you’d be surrounded by fans somewhere.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. “Not in the mood for fans tonight.”

“Tough race?”

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “Not the race. Just… life, I guess.”

“So,” he said, leaning in. “tell me about this little journalism course. You planning to make a career out of stalking poor drivers like me?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re learning how to ‘uncover the truth’—or at least, that’s what they say. So far, it’s been a lot of digging through archives and learning to ask the right questions.”

“Right questions, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s hear one. What would you ask me, if I were your ‘colorful public figure’?”

“Alright, Gojou. How does someone at the top of their game manage to keep it all together? All the races, the publicity, the pressure… don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”

“Honestly?” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks, being the guy everyone thinks has it all together. But people don’t care about that part. They just want the show.”

“So you put on the show.”

“Guess that’s what it comes down to.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “People don’t want to see a guy crack under pressure. They want the image.”

“But what do you want?”

No one ever asked him that, as if what he wanted didn’t matter.

“What do I want?” he repeated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to dodge the question. “Maybe another drink.”

I’m serious. Behind all of that… what’s left?”

“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I’ve been going so fast for so long, I can’t remember what it was I was chasing in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to figure out, then.”

He looked at you, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile broke through. “Maybe.”

The two of you sat in silence, and he found himself grateful for it. You didn't press or pry at him and he thought that he could just be himself, even if it was just for a little while.

“Alright,” he said finally, nudging your notebook with his finger. “So, future journalist, you really gonna write all this down? Make me sound like some tortured artist?”

You smirked. “I’ll try to be kind. Maybe I’ll even leave out the part where you go to bars alone and pretend to be mysterious.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, holding up his drink in mock surrender. “Noted. But I expect a copy when it’s published. Autographed, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you replied, laughing as you clinked your glass against his. “But don’t expect it to be flattering.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the conversation continued, Gojou found himself leaning in closer. You both let the drinks keep coming, though it was less about how much alcohol you were consuming and more about the way the words spilled more easily between you two.

“So,” you asked, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s it actually like out there? Everyone sees the fame, the money, the cars, but… what’s it really like?”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Honestly? It’s… intense. There’s this high to it, this adrenaline. Nothing like it. You’re pushing yourself and everyone around you to the edge," he tilted his head. “But sometimes, it feels like the line between winning and crashing out isn’t as thick as people think. You cross it once, and that’s it—you’re done.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“A little. But I’m more afraid of what happens if I stop. It’s like… I don’t know what I’d be without it. Guess that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. I get it. When something’s all you know… giving it up is like giving up a part of yourself. Scary as hell.”

“Exactly. Guess we all have our addictions, huh?”

Shit. Did he say too much?

You didn’t push, just gave him a quiet nod. “So, what’s Tokyo Jujutsu like? It's one of the toughest team on the grid, right?”

“You know it. They’re tough as hell, no room for error. And they sure as hell won’t give you a second chance if you mess up.”

“Sounds brutal."

“Yeah, maybe. I guess I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

“Enough about me," he continued. What about you? What’s the deal with this journalism project? Are you trying to make a name for yourself by exposing all my secrets?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, my goal in life isn’t to ruin yours. I actually think it’s fascinating, learning what drives people, what keeps them going, even when things get messy.”

“Messy? What makes you think my life is messy?”

“Oh, please. Gojou Satoru’s life is one headline after another. You’re practically the poster boy for drama.”

He feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m just a guy trying to make a living, you know?”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just a guy who happens to have a dozen scandals and an equal number of speeding tickets.”

“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a professional, okay? That’s all part of the job.”

The two of you continued to chat into the night. Gojou found himself relaxing, caught up in the rare comfort of talking with someone who didn’t expect him to play a part. He could just… be.

At some point, the bartender announced last call, and Gojou glanced at you, smirking. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stretched, gathering your notebook and tucking it under your arm. “Thanks for the, uh, ‘research material.’ It was… enlightening.”

He laughed, standing and grabbing his coat. “Anytime. But don’t go making me look like a complete asshole in your little project, alright?”

“No promises."

Outside, the air was crisp as he faint hum of city traffic the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slid his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

Outside, the air was crisp as the faint him of the city being the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slide his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again."

“Only if you’re brave enough to handle more questions.”

“Oh, I’m plenty brave. But we’ll see if you’re as good at digging as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to leave, throwing him a casual wave. “Goodnight, Mr. Gojou.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching as you disappeared down the empty street.

In that moment he realized, he never did catch your name.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[mayplantstarrwaters]

teenagers are always fun and wear fashionable clothes you guys just hate to see the younger generation having fun without you

[puck-luck]

forced proximity with jack even though you guys are enemies… so you guys say 👀

lucky lift | jack hughes

warnings: elevator sex, enemies to FWB, secret pining on jack’s side, hj, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (f receiving), fingering, teasing/general dirty talk (aka i just like writing dialogue) pairing: jack hughes x reader summary: the one when you hook up with your work enemy on a whim wc: 1468

“Don’t fucking look at me like that,” You hiss. “You know I don’t like this any more than you do.”

To top off a shitty day, in which you had woken up late, spilled coffee on the shirt that you had been waiting to wear all week, and tripped up the stairs in full view of everyone in the office, you were now stuck– nay, you were trapped, cornered, imprisoned– in the elevator with none other than Jack Hughes.

You and Jack had been working at this company for the same amount of time, both of you hired in the same week, trained by the same people, and working on the same projects. You hated each other. You supposed you hated Jack first, but it was only because he made everything so competitive. He claimed he couldn’t help it when your work bestie brought it up to him (much to your chagrin), “because he was an athlete when he was younger.”

In an ideal world, this “athlete” could pry open the doors of the elevator so you could make an escape. Instead, he’s staring at you with an amused smirk on his face while you do all the work.

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Jack scoffs. 

“Maybe I do hate it more than you,” You bite back. “You seem awfully content over there to watch me do all the work.”

“I called for help,” Jack reminds you. “They said two hours. To me. I don’t remember you offering to call.”

“I didn’t have service,” You say through gritted teeth. 

“Get a better provider,” Jack says in the same tone. 

“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?”

“I think you’re really easy to piss off.” Jack’s smile pulls at the sides of his lips in a way that’s almost endearing, but you also want to wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze.

“I think you–”

“I also think the stain on your shirt from your coffee has gotten worse with the sweat from all your efforts to escape,” Jack interrupts. “Maybe you should take it off.”

The initial surprise that came with his statement turns to anger at his arrogance. “Excuse me?” You exclaim, stalking over to him and whacking his arm. “You’re coming onto me? As if you couldn’t make this situation any worse?”

“We might as well have fun with it,” Jack says with a shrug, shying away from your violent slaps. 

“I don’t even like you,” You point out. “You don’t even like me.”

Jack reaches a hand up and cups your cheek, silencing you. “Does it matter?” 

The weight of his hand against your face and the pure honesty of his tone causes your stomach to turn. You’d be lying if you hadn’t thought of him like that before, but it was rare. It was during the monthly meetings Jack led, when he had to wear more business professional clothing, and he always decided to roll up his sleeves post-meeting and lose the jacket. You usually caught him in the break room brewing his own coffee, focused and straight-faced like he was about to reenter the meeting rather than celebrate its end. 

“No,” You decide. 

You allow him to pull you in, pressing your lips together in a surprisingly gentle kiss. You never thought Jack was the kind to savor something, but here you were. He’s slow with his movements, his fingers trailing over your curves and ridges like he’s trying to map your body. 

“You’re going too slow,” You complain, palming the front of his dress pants. You fit your hand on his bulge, rubbing over it until he lets out a moan. “Let’s speed things up.”

“I want to enjoy this,” Jack mumbles and you can barely hear him.

“You will,” You tell him, unzipping his pants and reaching into his boxers. You circle your hand around his dick, pumping him from base to tip, using his precum to make the glide smoother. 

“No,” Jack groans and tilts his head back. “I want to enjoy this.”

You pause your movements. “What do you mean?”

“I–” Jack bucks his hips up into your hand, your grip loose around him while you wait for him to explain. “You’re just so pretty when you’re mad at me.”

“Oh,” You breathe out. 

“And you’re mad at me all the time,” Jack whines. He pushes you against the wall of the elevator, leaning in to leave kisses along your neck. He sucks at the underside of your jaw, leaving a cool circle of saliva when he trails his lips lower. “Wanted to fuck you for so long now, Y/N.”

He presses his hips into your body, your hand still trapped in his pants. You remove it as his hands cover the back of your thighs and he lifts you up, you immediately circling your legs around his waist. He uses one hand to push his pants down, his belt clinking against the floor as the fabric pools around his feet. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, slipping your tongue into his mouth and causing him to groan. Jack pulls your skirt up and moves your panties to the side, movements quick now that he admitted his secret to you.

He presses himself inside of you, feeding his cock into your tight, wet cunt. 

“Feels so good,” Jack whispers. “So tight, baby. So wet.”

“Fuck me, Jack,” You tell him, voice strong. “Need you to fuck me.”

“Gonna,” Jack agrees with a moan, rolling his hips sensually. 

Jack steps forward until he can hold you up against the wall and push one leg so your ankle rests on his shoulder. He turns and gives your ankle a kiss, then bows his head to watch himself enter you to a rhythm that only he knows. Jack moves like he’s drunk on the feeling of you, soft noises falling from his lips like he’s trying not to be too loud. You can almost feel the elevator shaking with his movements.

“Not gonna last,” Jack chokes out, clutching at your waist. 

“Gonna come in me?” You tease, nipping at Jack’s earlobe.

Jack lets out a high keen, his mouth falling open and his eyelids fluttering shut as your entrance flutters around him, causing him to come undone inside of you. His breaths come out as stuttered as his thrusts do, his come warm inside you and leaking out when he draws himself out of you. 

Jack keeps you pressed against the wall of the elevator, but lowers himself to his knees.

“Gonna clean you up,” Jack promises. Your thighs rest on his shoulders, your ankles crossed behind his back. His hands pull at your ass cheeks, kneading them. 

“J,” You whimper when Jack attaches his lips to your entrance. He moans against your hole, flicking his tongue against your hole like a dog drinking from a bowl of water. He nuzzles his face into your cunt and brings a hand around to rub your clit in quick circles.

“Y’look so good,” Jack praises, his eyes so big and blue from where they look up at you. “You gonna come? Gonna mix us together, give me something to really enjoy?”

“Oh,” You exclaim, your fingers lacing into Jack’s hair. Your hips buck against his face and he slips a finger into your hole, pushing it in and out of you and curling it as he laps at your clit. “Fuck, Jack, just like that.”

Miraculously, he listens to you and only intensifies his actions, pumping a second finger into you.

You choke on a wail as you come on his fingers, the climax causing your head to fall back against the wall of the elevator with force. Jack stifles a laugh, but continues to lick at your come (and his own) until you’re removing your hands from his hair and trying to get your feet back on solid ground.

“You know, I like you like this,” Jack teases, fixing your panties for you and moving your skirt back to its original position. He pulls his own pants up when he rises, tucking himself away and buckling his belt with his very talented fingers. “All fucked out.”

“If anything, I’m the one who fucked you,” You bite back. “You came first and you ate your own come out of me."

“Mmm, next time I’ll leave it inside of you,” Jack says with a short kiss to your neck, adjusting the collar of your blouse. His hand ghosts over your neck and he feels the way your breath hitches. “Maybe we should get to the office early one day and I’ll bend you over my desk. You’ll have to walk around all day, feeling my come drip out of you. You’ll be begging me to clean you up then.”

note: ugh office enemies is a trope that i need in my life. if i'm going to be a slave to the work force i am going to fuck my hot enemy jack hughes whenever i can!

[aromanticannibal]

yeah so if you genuinely don't know how to write an email instead of using chatgpt and getting something that 1: has a chance to just fucking suck (and potentially be noticeably AI) and 2: uses stolen content, ruins the environment and indicates to the gen-AI companies that you want more gen-AI bullshit that will steal things and ruin the environment, you can look up how to write an email or look up email examples. here's a website, here's another, here's the wikihow page (it's a bit shit but it does its job), here's a good one for formal emails, and here's an email I sent today (more examples under the cut):

something that's really annoying right now is that most websites are desperately trying to sell you their cool funky AI friend that can write the email for you, and look at me: you have to tell it to go fuck itself (in your head, don't use it). this isn't about you being a moron for not being about to write an email, I struggled with it for a while too, I still do sometimes, writing emails notoriously sucks. gen-AI sucks more.

also, this might not be the case for everyone, but please at least try to learn how to write the email before using chatgpt, it will help you forever. if you have a question about emails or if you're not sure how to write one specific email, you can send an ask: I'm not all-knowing but I'll do my best to help.

I can mostly help for college/high school levels and I am studying in a French school, so the codes may not be exactly the same, but I am in fact being taught by English speakers, sometimes native ones.

I'll give more general advice at the end, but here are a few examples of emails I would send.

If there's even a small chance of your teacher not recognizing you, write at the top something like "I am Name Last name, I am in your X-Y-Z class on Mondays from 8AM to 9AM". This isn't too useful in high school because your teachers likely know you, but in college your teachers might not. This will give them context.

Do your best to avoid typos or grammar errors. Reread your email, especially if the teacher is a language teacher.

Be polite, always, unless the teacher explicitly specified they don't care.

You do not need to beg for anything, don't debase yourself, and if a teacher makes you debase yourself, report them. You shouldn't have to beg for something that you ask for in an email. (so no more than one please per email, and avoid this one please if possible).

If it's possible and safe for you, prefer discussing important matters IRL.

Remember who you're talking to. Is the teacher strict or chill? Younger or older? Are they a white abled man or a Black disabled woman? Are they very into "respect the teacher!!" or do they put themselves at your level? Are you a 15 y/o high school student or a 20 something college student? Is this teacher familiar with you? Have they been understanding in the past? etc.

Generally, despite all my warnings above, a simple polite email will be fine with most teachers. If you're not sure how to identify the above possibilities or how to alter your emails depending on them, just write a formal, polite email (like seen above).

Some universities have online courses that teach you how to write emails. If there is a web-type course in your university and you can take it, take it.

Mine has one. I hate it. They defined a tweet as a "post on a blogging platform". I have to complete it or I don't pass. It still has a good tutorial for writing emails. You are lucky in the sense that emails are like the basic thing that even the boomer teachers know how to do (even if they don't like doing it), so there are a lot of resources for people who haven't written emails yet and need to learn.

If possible, ask your teacher at the start of the year what email to contact them with - if you're lucky, they'll say things about what kinds of emails they want.

If you're lucky still, someone else will send a shit email and the teacher will make a point during the class to remind how to write a proper email.

I put "Dear name" everywhere, but if it's not an extremely formal setting, some teachers will be fine with a "Hello". If you're not sure of the receiver's gender, use their title (Dr. etc).

For the extension: sometimes teachers aren't allowed to give you an extension or are assholes who don't want to give you an extension. In that case, don't bother writing another email (again: don't beg. + it will make them dislike you which you don't want).

This works more in work settings, but I read once that it's good to say "I will be taking a day off" rather than "May I take a day off/is it possible to take a day off". Just say that it's going to happen.

Know your rights. I can't know them for you. Figure out what the teacher can and cannot do through legal documents on your school's website or whatever. Know your rights depending on your state or country.

If you have a bad memory and don't want to have to look up how to write an email everytime, open your notes app or your blocknote or any preferred place to take notes and write down the important. I'd advise to note common greetings, subjects, opening and closing lines. Same for your teachers, if you need to remember which one is a bitch and which one is chill, write their name down with a description.

[sexyandcringe]

Hopeless romantic

Part 3 ◇ Part 4

Warnings: cheating (not by reader or osamu), mommy issues and generally parents issues. Reader thinks she is unlovable (she just like me fr.)

Content: osamu x reader, Angst to fluff, hurt/comfort.

A/n: This is the end y'all! I wanted to make it longer but i know myself and i would just leave it unfinished at some point, so i thought this might be a good "ending", but good news! I'll still write some drabbles and snippets about yn and osamu's lives in this AU! like their first times and shit. idk, i'll see. I'm sorry if this disappoints you, I don't care.

Osamu thinks that everything in your house screams of you.

It’s not his first time in your home, but the vibrant hues and light shades remind him of your joyful personality; the white marble floor completes the water green and pink of your walls. Some canvases are hanging in the living room and a knowing smile forms on his lips as he recognizes your touch in a few of them. The colours and the delicate strokes all bear your signature, a reflection of everything that is you.

He wanders his eyes around, noticing details he didn’t notice in the past and taking in everything he can.

“Pasta with yogurt is delicious.”

Osamu looks horrified at your statement. He thought you were perfect in all shapes and forms, never had he ever expected you to come up with such a daring, unacceptable, banned-from-his-restaurant-worthy comment.

“This is it. I’m leaving.” he declares, rising abruptly from the table, as if ready to sever all hia ties with you and your questionable taste in food.

Your laughter fills the room before you grab his arms and your hand grips his shoulder, “I’m just joking!! Please!” you plead.

“No, you are not.”

Resigned, you raise your hands in surrender, “Okay, I’m not. but it’s actually good! You can’t judge anything until you try it!”

He only scoffs and sinks back into his seat, his attention on the Zucchini Lasagna with Zucchini “Ricotta” that you both made together. It was easier than you expected, and despite your protests, Osamu refused your assistance in any way,  insisting that you simply observe and learn.

The way his hands work in the kitchen left you in awe, and also a little flustered. Who wouldn’t be after seeing those healthy, strong arms of his being put to work?

The final strike was his calm, soft voice, effortlessly explaining everything you didn’t know without making you feel foolish. His tone was void of any patronization and he remained kind and understanding even when you asked questions that might seem obvious to others in the culinary world.

When the result of your (his) hard work was ready, it was late enough that you asked him to stay and dine with you, not wanting to let go of him yet.

(You never want to let go of him.)

“I don’t need to try it to understand that it will taste awful.”

“Never judge a book by its cover, Miya.” you retort playfully, adopting the guise of a wise sage.

Though he doesn't voice it, Osamu hates being called Miya by you.

“You know what- leave it,” he grumbles. His scrunched-up face from the irritation he felt earlier relaxes when he takes a big bite of his dinner and you can’t stop the grin that makes its way onto your lips. Such a goofball he is.

Both of you finish your plates in silence and silence has never been so comfortable, if not with him.

In the past, you always felt like a fish out of water, you knew you were different but not the “cool and edgy” kind, no, you were just straight-up weird, and you believed that most of your friendships and relationships with others did not work out because of this.

Over time, you worked on yourself, learnt to talk to people in socially acceptable manners, and learnt to keep your mouth shut when you had to; Sometimes, your thoughts still race ahead of your words, leaving you dizzy, but you’ve made progress. You’re doing much better now than your younger self, and that is enough.

Osamu never makes you feel different.

He has always been kind and understanding, even on days when you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Even that day, when you were just a stranger soaked with rain, seeking shelter and comfort in his shop.

It was a cloudy day and you were exhausted from work. Darkness dwelled in the sky when your world shattered again.

It was late evening when your parents called, and of course, it ended up in a fight with no end.

You hated it.

You missed them, every once in a while, but you couldn’t stand being around them. 

You always had a tricky relationship with your mother, a paradox where you wished her well while hurting her because she hurt you. You loved her and cared for her while wanting to run away from her and never see her again. 

(maybe you only loved the mother you hoped she would be.)

To make matters worse, your boyfriend wasn’t answering his phone. You needed him - needed his hugs and kisses and a silly movie to escape reality.

And when he didn’t reply to yet another call, you decided to go to his house in hopes of finding him, but when you got to the main gate of his building, your heart stopped.

You had your fair share of heartbreaks, but at the age of 24,  you weren’t one to play around with idiots who can’t have a stable and serious relationship. Your boyfriend seemed perfect initially, he was everything you thought you couldn’t find and the first two months were like a dream. Then, the reality slapped you hard and you saw the imperfections in your relationship: he never called, never let you see his phone (not like you ever asked, privacy is important to you, but when he takes away his phone even just to go to the bathroom, or when he snatches his phone from you when you use just to make some silly selfies, it makes you feel like he might be exaggerating a tad bit.), and most of all, he didn’t want you to meet his friends yet. 

You thought he might be just shy, maybe his friends weren’t your type of people, maybe he had been discussing a surprise for you so that’s why he wouldn’t let you see his phone. You found justification in everything because really, you liked him. 

Maybe that’s why when you saw your boyfriend of 8 months making out with the barista “you didn’t need to worry about.”, you felt like hundreds of thousands of needles were ripping your skin apart and just then, as if the clouds could feel your pain, they started to mourn, pouring heavy rain on your head, screaming at the top of their lungs and letting all their suffering pour down as if taking revenge of everything the humans have done to Earth.

At first, you felt numb, a numbness that comes from not believing what you are seeing, then started the loud thumping of your heart, making your bones tremble in despair, and your breathing became unbalanced, stuttering through your mouth; and worst of all, you were in the middle of the streets and the rain was growing faster and louder.

(but nothing was louder than the scream you let out inside your head.)

With heavy and slow steps, you walked away, oblivious to the water dripping down your temples, feeling utterly lost.

You didn’t know where to go. Your house was just a hellhole of everything that would remind you of him. You wanted to run away, and that’s what you did.

You ran until your lungs burned, until your legs ached, and the rain drenched you completely.

You were hungry and thirsty and cold and heartbroken and so fucking lost and-

A light.

A warm, inviting light accompanied by soft hums and melodies gets your attention.

From the tables inside the structure, you suspect it to be a restaurant, or perhaps a fast food, you don’t know. All you knew was that you needed warmth and a seat, so you pushed the doors open.

“Sorry, we are close-” A man looks your way, holding a dirty cloth and detergent. He must have been cleaning. 

Your eyes widen, a little panicked, because you had no idea it was so late and when you look down- 

oh god, you just walked into a closed restaurant, and you are soaked and you dirtied his floor all over again, he is so going to berate you and kick you out-

“Nevermind. Come in.” his voice sounds gentle, kind even; you wonder why he hasn’t screamed at you yet. You just ruined his floor, didn’t you?

He pulls a chair back and waits for you to sit, you oblige in silence, though a little hesitant, “Wait here, I’ll be back.” is all he says before disappearing from your sight.

While you stare at the texture of the tables and tiles, the events of the day come back rushing to your mind, the fight with your parents, the dead cat you found on the streets and your boyfriend cheating on you. Everything was a mess, and you felt so lonely. There was a tight knot in your chest, a heavy weight of unshed tears, and it became heavier with each passing second.

A plate comes into your view with hot rolled spaghetti seasoned with tomato puree and basil and you can’t stop the grumbling of your stomach at the sight of such delicacy.

Your face heats up as you hear a small laugh from the man standing next to you; you opt to hide your embarrassment by eating everything that was laid in front of you. You take a bite of the hot strands, swirling your fork in all the wrong ways (when have you ever done something right?), and the taste fills your mouth, cascading in your stomach and the tight knot between your lungs comes undone, your eyes get blurry and tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.

Fuck, you really did not want to cry now, but you can’t stop it. You sob and hiccup and keep eating all the same, while the cook stands next to you in silence.

The kindness of a stranger and the cruelty of your beloved crashed down on you like a tsunami and all you could do was eat and cry. Miserable, you thought to yourself.

Later, a hand came down your head, a soft pat accompanied by a low, comforting voice, “It’s going to be okay.” it said, and you believed it.

“Yachi was asking about you, y’know. Tsumoto, too. They said they missed your yapping.”

You gasp, feigning a shocked expression. “Hey! It’s called  ‘having a conversation’!”

He snorts, “Sure, if that’s what helps you sleep at night.” Osamu collects the empty plates from the table and helps you clean up the kitchen.

You huff as he dries the dishes you wash, his taunting endless. When you glance at the clock, it’s already around 10 pm, and you wonder if you took too much of his time. Someone like him should never waste his time over someone like you.

“By the way, Aika gifted me two tickets to the opening of the “Fishy and Cheesy Aquarium” near the bridge because she can’t make it.” he says after a while. 

You sputter out your drink, laughing at the ridiculous name.

“What the fuck is that name?!” you try not to snort like an ugly pig in front of him (you fail.) He just shrugs. “Also who’s Aika?”.

“Oh? I thought you met her! Remember the girl with long black hair and green eyes who entered my restaurant a few weeks ago? She’s Rintarou’s sister, but since me and ‘Tsumu have known Rin since we were toddlers, she’s like a sister to us, too.” a fond smile takes place on his lips, a smile that he rarely gives to clients, a smile reserved for family.

All the pieces fall into place in your head, and somehow you feel relief and joy and you curse yourself for feeling that way. You shouldn’t be allowed to feel happy now, but you are, and your heart’s already thumping out of your chest when he says his next words: 

“So, I was saying, since ‘Tsumu is away for two weeks and Rin just hates crowded places with too many kids, would you like to go there with me?”

And of course, you say yes before your brain can even comprehend what he’s asking of you. 

You are quite sure he is just asking you out as friends do, but what can you say? you are a hopeless romantic, after all.

Reblogs are really appreciated!

Tags: @lees-chaotic-brain @writingsofanomnivore @pressuredtreasure @k4sumis0u

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Hello! First I want to say I really like your fae story! The world building in it is insane and I'm so glad Buddie is finally together. Second, you don't have to answer but why have you been posting stuff with tommy? I don't understand why any Buddie shipper would like him, he's such a pos in the begins episodes...why write him with Buck? You don't have to answer, but there are lots of Buddie shippers switching sides and I don't see why.

Hiiiii.

So, first off thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying Come Away, and I hope the ending coming up satisfies :) Second, ngl, I did consider not answering that question cause I really don't like wading into fandom drama...but that was a super respectful ask and I DO quite like the character so...fuck it, we ball.

This is probably gonna be long and rambly but the TL;DR is I think the fact that Tommy Kinard IS introduced as a piece of shit makes for really interesting nuance to the character and also I'm a multishipper...just cause bacon and pineapple is my favorite pizza flavor doesn't mean I DON'T like pepperoni or have decided never to eat it again (also, I have less than 10k words of BuckTommy on AO3 and, like, almost 300k of Buddie, so I don't think I've switched sides, lol)

As for why I can like Tommy and specifically Tommy and Buck together despite the aforementioned POS'ness, sure I'll cop to part of it being I am just so damn excited for bi!Buck, I'd have been happy with just about anyone awakening that in him. But also because Tommy, to me, is a fucking interesting character and DOES make a lot of sense as someone that Hen and Chim could forgive and be friends with, and that could be good for Buck.

First off there are some things I think we have to acknowledge about Tommy that are factual or can be inferred as factual from the show. 1. For his timeline to make ANY sense, he can generously be in his late thirties to early forties. For it to make sense without him being some kind of prodigy in a couple areas, he has to be in his mid-to-late forties. 2. He was at LEAST partially raised by someone who reminds him uncomfortably of Gerrard, a CARTOONISHLY boorish, evil, bigot. 3. He was closeted for a very long time.

All of those factors together make for someone who honestly, it would have been nearly IMPOSSIBLE for them NOT to be a piece of shit, and a textbook example of how patriarchal systems, toxic masculinity, and white supremacy are also harmful to the people who benefit from them.

Let me preface this by saying I don't think the harm Tommy suffered was anywhere near as great as what Hen and Chim (or any person of color) go through. And, of course, Hen and Chim don't owe him shit. Forgiving him or not is entirely up to them and the right choice whatever they choose.

My point is, Tommy almost certainly grew up in an environment where his worst flaws and character traits were just...normal. I think a lot of people don't understand how much LARGER the world has gotten with the modern day internet, how much easier it is to be exposed to things outside your own bubble. I'm either right around Tommy's age or a little younger, depending on the estimate you use and guys...I just don't have words for how INSULAR my worldview was growing up compared to now. How much everyone around you, even in larger cities, tended to be Just Like You. You had to live in true sprawling metropolises to be exposed to the kind of diversity that we take for granted now. It is a terrible thing, but when everyone around you, everyone you look up to, everyone you love and care about, and who is supposed to love and care about you thinks the same thing, you don't tend to question it. You don't even notice it. My own loving, wonderful, give-you-the-shirt-off-her-back grandmother, who was educated af in a time women really weren't as a rule, and spent her life as a teacher was racist as FUCK. And the really insidious kind...the "I don't hate them, but why can't they just stay on their side of town?" kind, the passive-aggressive comments that only sting the people they're aimed at so no one thinks to defend the victim kind. It's the weirdest cognitive dissonance to know someone as kind, loving, and moral and ALSO realize that the kindness, love, and morality only included certain people. If my parents had not moved around so much, exposing me to different environments (or if they'd been a little less lenient with my internet access when it started exploding) I honestly can't say whether or not I would have ended up just like my grandma. I like to think I wouldn't have, but that's the point...it's a frog in slowly boiling water situation. I think we can all safely say a parent like Gerrard was not creating an environment in which it was safe or even possible to question the hate.

And from that homelife Tommy had to have gone straight into the military during the heights of DADT, wherein hiding your true self from everyone around you was the acceptable compromise to just straight up having your life ruined (if not completely ended).

Now. Does any of this EXCUSE Tommy being a pretty racist, sexist piece of shit in the begins episodes? No. But it is an EXPLANATION and a true-to-life example of how those systems that everyone has to operate in are harmful no matter what. At the time, given what was almost certainly his background, Tommy would almost certainly have to have been INCREDIBLY self-aware and self-actualized (and honestly, really, REALLY fucking brave) not to have been molded into...precisely what he is. A pretty racist, pretty sexist piece of shit who is throwing anyone and everyone he has to under the bus (consciously or not) to divert attention from his own deviation from the "norm".

Okay, HocusPocus, you might say, so this still begs the question why the hell you think Tommy deserves to even breathe the same air as your favorite blorbo.

And let me again preface by saying I acknowledge the show leaves a lot to inference here. As 911 is wont to do, extremely important character moments are handled "off-screen."

That being said, we do get to see Tommy acknowledging he was wrong about Hen and Chim and getting to a place of mutual respect, if not friendship (personally, I think the going away party when Tommy leaves the 118 shows they've made it to friendship...I don't care how much you respect someone, cake, balloons, and a surprise party are strictly friend things). When Chim calls Tommy to take them out to the cruise ship like...Tommy's risking his life AND his career there, if not outright jail time. Just on Chim and Hen's say-so. Again...that's FRIEND level actions, not just "I respect you as a colleague". We see, either right there on screen or through deleted scenes, that everyone around Buck trusts Tommy with him. When have we ever seen the 118 be shy about expressing their displeasure over one of Buck's LI's? If Hen and Chim still harbored resentment towards Tommy, and didn't truly believe he'd changed and was good enough for Buck, do we REALLY think that wouldn't have been expressed?

Are there valid criticisms of the character? Sure. I think a lot of it can be explained by the rushed nature of season 7 with such a large ensemble cast, but yeah, Tommy's not super developed and a LOT of the issues between him, Hen , and Chim are left to inference. That's fair.

But I think the show MEANS us to make those inferences, that Hen and Chim's actions and interactions with him show that Tommy has done the work to change, and they accept that he's changed and it also says a lot about them that they can forgive him and be friends with him (which, again, he is NOT owed and they would have been perfectly valid in denying him).

So, yeah. I like him. I think he's interesting and while Buddie remains my OTP, I am very interested to see where Tevan goes this coming season.

Also, Lou is fucking pretty ;)

[darligvane]

Gage headcanons

I have these all written down in a google doc (plus way more) so I figured I might as well throw some here now that I'm getting more comfortable using tumblr lol. I'm very open to discussion about these! I might post more in the future if someone finds it interesting.

CW for: Minor mentions of addiction and some general trauma stuff. Nothing too bad I don't think but don't hold me to that.

A lot of these mention The Harvester by the way, sorry. Lore makes my brain itch.

● While he is a part of a minority of raiders who can actually read and write‐ (as evidenced by him leaving messages to Colter on his terminal) -he is dyslexic. It takes him a while to write things out coherently, and reading anything more than a few short sentences is often frustrating.

● ^ because of this, he prefers / genuinely enjoys comic books. They're light on reading and he can usually tell whats going on even without dialogue. He had a small collection of comic books back when he lived with The Harvester, and still gets kind of pissed he never got those back.

• Regarding comics, his least favorite character is the Silver Shroud. He just pisses him off.

● His eyepatch being so large is actually functional! (Somewhat) I like to think he lost his eye by getting shot in the face with a plasma round, which corroded and destroyed a large area of skin around his eye and down his cheek. So the large metal plating on his eyepatch covers the large scar.

● He actually lost his eye when he first joined The Harvesters gang when he was younger. One of Harvests gang members pulled the trigger on him when he initially approached them, thinking he had ill intentions. It sucked- but hey, at least they let him in.

● He made his own cage armor and designed it particularly around his needs rather than protection. He uses the cage to hold tools, parts, a rag, etc. while he works on things like Colters power armor or other mechanical things he fiddled with. Definitely doesn't make him very bulletproof, but following the boss around keeps him away from most combat situations anyway.

● Colter had a tendency to use Gages armor like a big handle to drag him around a lot, which he didn't particularly enjoy.

● His favorite colour is yellow, which is why his cage armor is the colour it is. He painted it himself :')

● Has the most horrific trust issues in all of mankind. (Thanks for betraying him Harvest, he will absolutely not recover from that.) He won't eat anything he doesn't see prepared himself, won't set down his drink unless he's alone, he can't sleep around other people, etc. When Colter dies and the new Overboss takes over, he doesn't even tell them where he sleeps until he trusts them entirely. He'll just dissappear at night unless you call out for him.

● These trust issues leak into his behaviors during relationships also. Down to the more simple things. He prefers to hug his partner from behind or be big spoon, he prepares food for them both, takes the night guard when camping, etc. Anything that puts him in the more advantageous position, even if its subconscious.

● The Harvester haunts him. He still sees and hears him in the shadows or corners after however many years its been. Has nightmares of him coming back and finally finishing the job, killing him. Feels the cold metal of a scythe against his throat when it isn't there... its endless. Even something as common as the sounds of distant gunfire make him paranoid, since it reminds him of the betrayal. Absolutely ruined him.

● Has tattoos inspired by / centered around The Harvesters. Covers them with his armor though. Hes got some trauma to unpack man, idk. (Should I do a tattoo tour for him?)

● One of the reasons he hates chems is from a previous addiction. He doesn't like to talk about it, but he made a few of his worst life decisions on chems and it just put a bad taste in his mouth. He'd prefer it if his Overboss / partner was in a rational state of mind, thank you.

● He is surprisingly good with animals for the most part. Particularly cats. Does the old man / dad thing where he says he doesn't like them or calls them mean names while secretly petting them or letting them hop in his lap when he's alone.

● Not usually a big fan of the more "exotic" wasteland animals though. Totally got jumpy one day and shot a Pack molerat on accident.

Thats probably enough for now. I'm happy to answer questions or expand on these more if asked, and I'll probably share more in the future. (Maybe some 18+ ones too? We'll see.)

[spidrgrl]

In contrast to the 3 favorite characters, which 3 characters you hate the most in homestuck.

Oh gyatt

Honorable mentions before my big three: Doc Scratch........ And Rose and Jade from HS^2 (HOMESTUCK TWO ONLY. I don't hate them otherwise)

Also, slight TW for stuff that's happened with Meenah. I don't go in depth but I still wanna warn, skip number 2 entirely if you're uncomfortable with reading about it!!!!!!!!

Well, drumroll please for a VERY big yap sesh!!!!!!!!

Number 3 is

Aradiabot.

Tbh I don't hate her THAT much anymore. It's just she's a lot easier to explain than my Honorable Mentions™. It's more of a hate for Hussie's bad writing.

As a character, she's perfect. Perfect perfect perfect. She's so badass that a lot of people in the Homestuck fandom can't really comprehend it, so they call her boring! I don't blame those people though. Her actions were cool, but she herself wasn't since she hardly had a personality or emotions, and that's wonderful for a robot character!

But as a replacement for a friend???????? No. Absolutely not. It's like having a corpse of someone close to you and reminding you of everything that you caused. And you know what? The corpse hardly speaks, because it's DEAD.

I hated her for the entire time she was near me, and now I only kinda resent her as a character and both as a replacement for Aradia. She could sense those emotions, but she didn't care. Never cared! She was only a vessel that held a troll, and she didn't care about that either. She only cared about doing what was programmed for her to do.

I knew she hated me at least a little. But besides punching me in the face, she didn't say anything. No closure, no anything, just a cold metal punch to the face to a girl that's already kicked down! I wouldn't blame her for it if it was Aradia, but Aradiabot had nothing behind that punch. She had more emotions for EQUIUS just because she was PROGRAMMED/WRITTEN TO BE.

This is one of the reasons why Hussie's writing pisses me off! He replaced a PERFECTLY GOOD TROLL with a ROBOT and hardly ever talked about her ever again unless if it was for like, one or two panels. One of the best characters had her reputation absolutely TRASHED and now everybody thinks she's boring just because of ARADIABOT taking her place.

She could've been a lot cooler for a girl that stole Aradia's identity and story, y'know? That's mainly where my resentment lies.

Thankfully, she's not at all as bad as my number 2, which is

Meenah.

I DESPISE her. Not in a pitch way, my god. I loathe her in a way that means I want her dead. I wish I never met her, seriously. One of the worst cases of my bad luck was meeting her.

I think you guys could understand why I hate her already, but that's not the ONLY reason why either. So here's a list chat

Literally WRITTEN to be only terrible and a gag. As a character, all she has going for her is shittiness and stolen swag from The Condesce. We don't even know WHY she is the way she is, hardly any detail is given to backstory unlike me and my friends, so all readers know about her is that she's a trashy creep with a cool design and a want for money and power.

Has the same problem pretty much all of the dancestors do! Having a cool design and theme but they're two dimensional, almost always sexual, and having weird relationships with trolls that are a GENERATION younger than them.

Another very clear display of Hussie's shitty writing and bad decision making. He completely TOSSED the idea of a good character when he made her.

The things she did to me.

The things she did to Karkat.

AND YOU KNOW WHAT???????? SHE UNDERSTANDS THAT IT'S BAD. SHE VERY CLEARLY UNDERSTOOD WHAT SHE WAS DOING, IT'S THE ONLY TIME THAT THIS TYPE OF TOPIC IS NOT IN A JOKING LIGHT.

Oh, but that's not all!!!!!!!! For some reason, the GENIUSES for HS^2/Homestuck Beyond Canon decided, hey, let's KEEP THE CREEP and have her in a MATESPIRIT RELATIONSHIP with, oh I dunno, ONE OF THE TROLL KIDS SHE MET WHEN THEY WERE 6 SWEEPS (13 YEARS) OLD and she was 9 SWEEPS (19 YEARS) OLD. Yeah, that's so smart guys, bravo, you guys are really fixing up the dumpster fire that is Hussie's writing with some fuel. /j /sarc

Plus not to mention the fact that basically ALL proshippers in the Homestuck fandom crowd around her and romanticize what she did. Especially what she did to me. Like her whole existence endangers me even now. Yeah guys, let's NOT ship an abuser x victim.

Cry harder mf you know what you did. Scott Pilgrim ahh

Anyways, despite how much I wish Meenah never existed, you wanna know who I somehow hate more than her? My number 1 is

Hussie.

Andrew Hussie. The Huss.

Look, I do applaud him for making Homestuck. But I also punch him in the face for making Homestuck. Man, he should've given the story to Toby Fox or something, just ANYBODY but him.

No Hussie. Not like that. Stop producing new updates for HS^2, they CLEARLY got their writing skills from you.

And also, added to your terrible writing, why in the FUHREAK did you propose to your own character when she was a minor. Then also whine about getting rejected to another one of your characters (Cronus). Not to mention you actually sat at your desk and wrote the entire thing.

Like ew

Anyways, this EVEN BIGGER yap sesh is done!!!!!!!! Ty for asking anon

P.S.: if you're an introject of anybody on this list, I don't hate you specifically. If you want we can yap about source (except Meenah, I don't blame you for source but I wouldn't be able to talk with you, sorry)!

[oh-shtars]

RFTS!AU AskBox #4

Me to @signed-sapphire for the legendary number of 50 Questions Galore they sent me:

Heads up though, you might notice there’s certain questions skipped. I’m either not able to answer some of the asks at all OR they’re either some art requests that I haven’t finished and will post in future posts. So I had to skip them for this post unfortunately…. I apologise as such. 😅

Anyways, let’s get speeding through them shall we?

1. How do you plan to show the songs?

It should be question 6 of this post here. :)

……

2. How many songs do you plan to have in RFTS?

4 or more. Depends on what I come up with.

……..

3. What ‘vibe’ would each song have?

Uhhhhhhh, idk tbh. I’m really just going with the flow of what this story brings me. You can’t wait to see what the RFTS!plot has in store? Yeah, me too.

……..

4. Who’s voicing Valentino and the main cast?

For Valentino, I’m not sure. I’m debating whether it should be younger Bambi or Ronno’s VA. But he basically has an actual kid’s voice this time rather than a deep-sounding one. (Because honestly, I found that a bit weird personally). For the the other characters, I don’t really mind the voices they have canonically.

And I think I’ve mentioned this before, but even though Sueño can’t speak, I could hear him singing this in this voice hypothetically.

………..

5. Write or draw any cute interaction between Ashueño!

Mk :3

………

6. I know Asha will have a different outfit by the end, but do you have different designs for anyone else?

Yeah, I do actually. Some characters have a different outfit to better reflect their current context. (Like how Sakina would have work clothes similar to Asha.) But I don’t want to reveal most of them at the moment since I would like to keep them a secret for now.

……

7. Some Gabo doodles, if you don’t mind. I rarely see the short king in any Wish Art.

Fiiiiine.

His design makes a lot more sense if you were me and you knew the context. Take this art with whatever theories you guys can throw at me 😂

……. 10. What made Amaya fall in love with Magnifico? What changed?

Amaya had a family who greatly discouraged her interest in studying magic and potions since it’s against what their family has done for generations. Meanwhile, Magnifico who was adopted as Rosas’ prince, is expected to learn magic but COULDN’T because he struggles to do so since he hasn’t moved on from his trauma.

When these guys were around 16-15 years old, they were mutual best friends. Mag offers Amaya to read from his magic books while he finds comfort in just having a genuine friend who doesn’t remind or push expectations onto him that he hears everyday in the castle. She’s like an escape from the stresses he has in there.

In their future years, Amaya grew to fall in love with someone who promised her the world if she only asked for it. She finds bits of herself in Mag, as both were people with crushed dreams that deserve better. (In their POV anyway.)

Falling in love was not at all what she expected since she used to believe sympathy would only hold her back from exploring the limits of magic. But you know, Amaya’s as much as a tragic character as Magnifico is.

…….

11. Who fell first and who fell harder between those two?

Is it possible to say that RFTS!Magnifico is both?

……..

12. Any fun fact about the Royal Couple? (You can tell who I’m most invested in. lol.)

The only reason Espino, the royal cat, is in the castle is because Amaya wanted him around. Otherwise, if it were up to Mag, that cat is out to the streets. He’s not very fond of animals and he considers them as pests. Though, Espino gets small bonus points from Magnifico just because he keeps the castle clear from mice which he especially hates.

(Good to know you’re enjoying ‘Grand Despair’ while it lasts :)

……

13. This may be weird but…Body Swap! How would Hopes and Dreams react?

Asha would have zero idea how to get star magic under control. Meanwhile, Sueño finds an interesting realisation.

……..

14. What’s your favourite fanart piece of your AU?

I LOVE all of them so much!! They’re all made by very amazing artists!! I’m so happy to see these silly characters I’ve made be brought to life in someone else’s style. 💖💖

Mere words can’t express this joy enough. I hope you all would love the final chapters once they do come out as much as you loved seeing content of them now. X3

……..

15. Are you telling your story via writing or art of word dump?

I’m planning to share it in chapters like how Anny and everyone else has been doing. Plus some more sketches I would keep making of them obviously.

………

17. Draw Ashueño dressed as another Disney couple!

Hehehehehe guess whooo~ 🙃

��……

19. Young!Sueño!

Which one? 🙃

Awww, good times back then when the little guy is still figuring out the forms he likes….

…… 20. Young!Royal Couple!

Mini Magnifico would rather drown himself or drink snake venom than call Oliver his dad- ………

22. Give some more lore on Asha’s father. Are you keeping him as close to the source material as possible? Will we see him in flashbacks or something?

You’ll definitely get to see Tomás at certain points in the story. Either in the short prologue, mentions and flashbacks. He’s generally a friendly guy but at the same time, is also assertive to defend what he thinks is wrong. But even though his life was cut short, Tomás ended up inspiring more people than he thinks. Especially his old friend, Sabino, who hasn’t given another wish or attended any more wish ceremonies after his death.

I don’t think we really knew much about Asha’s father at all in the canon movie, but I’ll pretty much be close to what is depicted there already with some more detail on how he made an influence in the lives of those he loves.

………

23. Give Sueño a stuffed toy for him to cuddle with. He deserves it <3

He adores it so much 💖💖

……….

24. More lore about the Astral Realm!

Not all Wishing Stars have the strong desire to venture down into the human realm someday and that’s completely fine. They can still guide their wishmaker from above. But for those who do want to, they need to answer one important question first:

“Why do you grant wishes?”

Since they would be going down to earth by themselves ALONE with none of their elders to guide them this time, their answer to this question serves as their anchor in case they get lost or distracted. Answers do vary and some may be the same among stars, but that’s fine. As long as they’re sincere with all their core on their answer. Some examples may be: “I like to see them reach their very best and reap their deserved rewards.” Or “I like watching them journey and discover themselves.”

……….

25. SNEAK PEAKS!!

This scene is one of my dotpoints I came up with but I’m not so sure anymore if that would still fit in and whether I should scrap it. Regardless, I thought this would be a nice little thing to show you all. Proof that I’m indeed working on it 😅

(Actually, this sounds so cute to draw. Feel welcome to try and do so if you want to, my fellow artists ^^)

…… 26. How does Magnifico’s magic work?

I made a whole post on this :3

………

27. Where did Amaya learn potions?

She’s self-taught mostly. But I also did mention that Mag generously lets her borrow what is meant to be his books of magic soooo, he played a role on that as well.

……

29. What’s Amaya’s opinion on the other Wish AU Mags?

I’m not exactly sure how different her opinions would be on each of them since I think we all decided to have our fun with Magnifico just being a shameless show-off and fun evil villain. I’ll try though.

Amaya would think KOW!Mag reminds her a lot of her own husband, also short-tempered and a disgustingly sweet romantic at times. She’s kind of a play-hard-to-get girl though 😂. One thing she does notice is that what WRTS!, Wish Granted! And KOW!Mag have in common is how loud they are with their ceremonies. Is that a universal Magnifico thing? Eh. There sure is a lot of interesting knowledge to learn from these universes. Hmmm.

TKoRaT!Maggy has that same pained look that falls on RFTS!Mag whenever he’s sulking by himself and needs time alone. Usually it’s because of his old village trauma. It’s an intriguing but ever so familiar cycle she recognises well.

Meanwhile. TFS!Mag is……different, she would say. Not exactly good different. I kinda imagine her eyeing this guy like a cat. This Mag just gives off a very different vibe of non-ruthlessness(?) that she’s not used to.

……..

30. Same for Mag, but vice versa.

RFTS!Mag gets very very very familiar vibes with KOW! And Wish Granted!Amaya. He finds it slightly amusing since it feels like his wife just became a part of some triplets. (He jokingly asked RFTS!Amaya if she had any sisters she never told him. The woman wasn’t amused. She doesn’t really like being reminded of her family.) I’m sorry TKoRaT! And TFS!Amaya, but you’ve made the decision to adopt Asha as your daughter and so he thinks lower of you now. Although…the TKoRaT!couple might just get to redeem themselves for that since they sound interesting enough. They’re going to have the ditch the girl though at some point.

WRTS!Amaya just feels off. He doesn’t know what exactly though? Is he losing his mind or something? Ugh, I think he could use devouring another Wish Bubble just in case…

……..

31. You know what, for Asha and Sueño too!

Oh boy, here we go. 😂

Asha will NOT be able to handle Wish Granted!Star’s energy. It’s so different from the silent but still lively conversations she has with her Starboy. Star just can’t bring himself to stop talking, can he? 😅 Asha thinks WRTS!Aster and TKoRaT!Star are adorable. Cielo may be a bit much at times with his light teasing and flirting, but she’s aware he means well.

I could see Asha’s non-hesitant empathy, patience and genuine concern to Haedus would be a huge comfort for the poor guy. (Trust me, she’s done this plenty before.) She’s a bit surprised to see Naos and Nembus but I think they’d get along just fine. She’s pretty good with playing with kids from her experience with a mischievous Valentino. And lastly, KOW!Aster is a total sweetheart that she jokingly comments could rival Sueño’s. (That comment caught Sueño’s attention quickly lmao.)

MEANWHILE:

Sueño is more hesitant and unwilling at first to approach humans by his own accord. He’ll still keep a short distance buuuut… if they’re just another version of Asha, it can’t be that horrible, right?

KOW!Asha’s drawings are a familiar sight for him and he’s impressed that she could bring her own drawings to life. Same goes for WRTS!Asha with her magic wand. Maybe they’re friendly… Maybe they could both do that together :D He’s neutral with Wish Granted! And Aled’s Asha for now until he gets to know them better.

Sueño recognises that same shyness and timid nature in TKoRaT!Asha. (It’s weird how she does the same thing RFTS!Asha does of turning their head away and hiding behind their hair when he innocently just looks her way.)

And then there’s…….HER. TFS!Asha. Cielo talks about her a lot….😬. But you know, that girl scares him.

Unfortunately, Sueño is staying a relatively farther distance away from the last two Ashas I mentioned. Why? Idk, probably the fact that they’re the daughter of Mag and Amaya-

……….

32. *Gives Sueño an iPad with Duolingo on it* Here my child. Learn Spanish.

I have a feeling you did this so he could finally find out what his name, ‘Sueño’ translates into. Lol, nope. Not yet he’s not.

He still appreciates the gesture though, but the guy got distracted by the other cool features and apps this weird magical mirror-tablet thing(?) had and completely forgot all about the Owl app.

……

33. Will Asha ever attempt to learn Celestial? Maybe with a candle? Like Morse Code? Idk.

Idk. Speaking Celestial is really just stars exchanging screechy sound waves to each other telepathically like words, while their glowing sequences indicates the mood and tone of what they’re saying. Maybe if Asha comes to learn how to harness light magic on her own, she’ll be able to at least convey emotions such as happiness in it by controlling the brightness and duration of each flash.

…….

35. How are you planning out your story?

I usually think of what main message I’m trying to get across first and build the story around it. After some character and world-building stuff (that I keep adding to because procrastination), I put the key scenes I could think of in bullet-point format and then just think up some in-between scenes that could occur between those points.

Usually though, the most usual process is that a random concept/idea pops into my head and then I immediately type it down so I won’t forget it. It’s basically my thing now to organise the giant mess of reminders into comprehensive plot lines.

I’m not writing the story at this point. The story is choosing to expose itself to me XD

Another main thing I do is listen to my Spotify playlist of this AU, read the Wish Artbook, or rewatch a movie that has inspired the RFTS! plot in some way.

……..

36. Are there any kisses in your story?

Hmmmmm….. *glances at Ashueño and Amnifico*

Oh well, since you’ve asked me, I gueeeeess I’m unfortunately now going to have to remove all the kisses I had included since y’all are so desperate to know….. (/jk)

……..

38. Will the Royal Couple have villain transformations?

………..

39. What’s your take on the ‘eating wishes’ thing?

As I’ve mentioned in my last post on how the magic system works in the RFTS!AU, Magnifico eats wish essence to reverse the costly effects of using Curse Magic. To put it simply, he uses them to make him more mentally stable.

.,,,,,,,,

40. What Easter Eggs are you planning to put in your story?

Awwwww, where’s the fun in that? Find them yourselves >:)))

And who knows? Maybe certain fellow creators in the Wish Rewrite Fandom will make a reference in some of the chapters. Keep an eye out 😉

……..

42. What exactly does Asha’s job entail?

Being a king’s apprentice is a way to gain experience and learn how to use magic by the king himself, so you could use the attained knowledge as to however you want. Share the talent with Rosas or Go out into the world.

However, when Magnifico’s reign started, he forbade magic usage other than he and his wife with the claim that it’s for the greater good and safety for Rosas. (He kinda had a point since criminal activity and accidents did decrease in number after that rule.)

Since Mag doesn’t really need an apprentice, Asha is more of an assistant now, following in her dad’s footsteps before her. She’s tasked to do help with whatever Mag might need around his study such as keep the fire going or organise his papers. But Mag doesn’t really like having her around a lot, (since she asks a lot of questions about his wish-keeping system) so he purposefully tells her to go carry out outside tasks such as go into the garden and help the gardeners or something.

……..

43. Did Magnifico make Sueño’s bonds?

If I told you, would that make you more blood-thirsty enough to gather pitchforks and torches for his head? Because if you are, please don’t. I still need this guy to stir up conflict in my story :((

(You can have him all you want though once I’m done with him. Lmao.)

………

44. How was Rosas founded?

Nearly a century ago, the kingdom was first built. I’ve read in the Art book that Rosas was apparently named to reference ‘Beauty and the Beast.’

Like, ok….?

Anyways, I found that roses are meant to represent love, rebirth and beauty. So I decided to add more onto that than just have it as another reference. The kingdom’s founders wanted Rosas to be a place where people who are wary and feel outcasted by their homes can find and start a new beginning. To ‘Rebirth’ and have a second chance to find the ‘beauty and love’ in their lives again,

Blue and white were made the royal colours because the blue was meant to stand for trust and reliability and white for new beginnings. Symbolising the past kings and queens’ responsibility to have their talents in sorcery be used to serve the people who come here. Thus, Rosas’ citizens all are in a variety of different cultures.

……..

45. Over how many days does your story take?

I’m thinking within one month. It’s a race-against-time sort of thing where Asha needs to find out how to confront the Royal Couple before they do something horrible on Rosas’ celebration of its 100th anniversary, which is literally just a month away.

…….

46. What was your favourite part of Wish? Are you translating that to your AU?

I really really loved how Mag’s magic looked and how he went all evil-ish green as a tribute to past Disney villains. If we ignore the awkward transition he had from sympathetic to just plain psychotic, it’s a cool magic display. I kinda wished they went more full out on the final battle because it just felt so underwhelming asf.

I’m keeping the magical final battle but with more magical funsies. :D

…….

47. Least favourite part?

I’m frustrated how bland and empty the character interactions and emotional beats are since those kinds of moments are usually my favourite when it comes to movies.

Magnifico’s tragic loss of his village? “Pfft- What tragedy? We don’t need that in the movie’s 2nd half.”

Asha’s dead father? “Eh. We only needed him for a few mins and he’s non-existent from that point on.”

Valentino claims to be Asha’s helpful animal sidekick. “Did I mention I have a deep voice? Oh, and my butt’s a funny thing too. Did I already mention that my voice is loud and soooo deep??”

Simon’s betrayal? “Oh wow, that was a shock…. Anyways, wanna start a rebellion?”

OMG, Sakina’s wish is back!! “What was the wish about? Idk who cares.”

Asha’s friendship with Star doesn’t even feel that special to me?? GUYS, I felt more chemistry between Rapunzel and Pascal. COME ON, BUILD IT UP. DON’T JUST SAY ‘Awww, you and I are thinking the same thing~’ AND EXPECT ME TO BUY THAT.

……….

48. What’s your favourite aspect of the TFS!AU?

Idk why, but I like how there’s a unique twist in your AU on how Wishing Stars don’t have the best reputation to humans. It’s a nice subversion that makes it stand out a little more. :)) Because usually, the idea of wishing on stars is always seen as a positive thing but that’s not the case in this story. It’s intriguing to watch characters slowly realise that not everything is what it seems.

That, and the hilarious dynamic you’ve got going on between Cielo and Asha and how deep in denial they both are, even though it’s clear as day to the other TFS!cast. 😂

(Wouldn’t it be funny if TFS!Mag and Amaya also noticed? They may be going down a dark path but they’re not blind, girl.)

……..

50. What’s a boring fact about you?

Uhhhhhh…. I like organising stuff by colour for fun...? Like, I used to pour out a box of legos and sort through them as a kind of pastime. I still organise coloured pencils in rainbow order if I could too. 😅 ………

@annymation @uva124 @your-ne1ghbor @ficsinhistory @rascalentertainments @gracebethartacc @spectator-zee

It’s a long read, but I think you guys would enjoy going through it regardless. I hope so anyways.

Btw, thx for all the fun questions Bo! 💖 Might post some more regarding your other doodle requests that I’ve put to the side for now if you don’t mind. :))

[dovesandmagpies]

Thoughts rereading the Lord of the Rings for the first time in 10 years, (in no particular order and with no claim to literary expertise beyond reading a lot of books)

When I was younger I would always skip the old forest, Tom Bombadil and the barrow wites, because I didn't think they were necessary to the story, it still makes sense if they're not there and the barrow wites (is that how you spell it?) creeped me out.

Listening to it now, yes they're not essential, but they make the world feel more real. There are evil things that don't have anything to do with Sauron, old man willow is never explained, he's just there, hating people, with no giant evil plan for world domination or anything.

Tom Bombadil makes much sense when you think that the world of middle earth was sung into being, a guy who sings all the time is (a little) less strange in that context.

And the barrow wites are still the creepyist things in the whole story but I appreciate the creepyness more as an adult.

Merry is still my favourite character, I always feel sad when I remember how reduced his character was in the movies

I find the songs more interesting, I only read the Silmarilion once, and that was over 10 years ago (I am currently rereading it, I am not even half way through though) But the fact that it exists, that the history that is referenced or hinted at in the Lord of the rings is actually there all written down some where so you can read it if you want to know more, it is what makes the Lord of the rings one of my favourite books.

It also makes it a very sad story, yes they win, the villain is destroyed, but the time of the elves is finished, all that history that happens in the Silmarillion has come to an end. There is a deep feeling that something important has been lost and no matter what happens it can't be the same as it was.

The kingdoms of Gondor and Anor remind me very much of the Roman empire in the middle ages, (I feel like I may be pointing out the obvious here, but I never noticed this before) All the lands used to be part of one great kingdom/empire, the kingdom broke in to two halves one of the which fell and the other survived but was not as great as it had been. There are ruins and old buildings all over the place that no one at the time of the story could build. Even though Arnor has been gone for hundreds of years people still refer to it as something to be admired. Most people speak the same or similar languages because of it. Numenor conccered most of middle earth and made it this huge kingdom, which then collapsed and split apart in smaller kingdoms none quite as great as the original. There are probably parallels to other things but this is what stood out to me.

I understand why they didn't put the scouring of the Shire in the movie, but I think it is an important part of story. It shows how evil isn't all huge and far away, sometimes it's small, pathetic, sneaky and done or helped by people you know, and that is much scarier.

I forgot about how many side characters they didn't include in the movie, particularly in the Return of the King.

When Gandalf and Pippin get to Gondor is the point I really remembered that Tolkien lived through WWI and 2, there are little things before that (the dead marshes for instance), but in Gondor they're sending all the women and children to the countryside so they won't be caught in the fighting. There's rationing of the food, all the lights must be dimmed or put out so the flying creatures can't see anything. It's something only someone who lived after WWI would write because before that it just wouldn't enter your head that war could be like that.

Going back to the Silmarillion for a moment, theoretically, if the sons of Feanor had broken their oath, would they have turned into ghosts like the ones in the Paths of the Dead? Or are they ghosts because Isildur cursed them?

I occasionally see people criticising Tolkien for making Eowen marry Faramir and give up war, this is generally portrayed as Tolkien being sexist for letting a female character fight and then immediately taking it away and marrying her off to some random guy.

I disagree with this perspective and I don't understand how you could think that after reading Eowen's part of the story.

By the time Eowen faced the Witch King she had no hope, she thought the only thing she had to live for was the hope of a glorious death in battle, she wanted to die. When she survived what she needed was hope that there was more to life than death in battle, that's why her marrying Faramir is a happy ending for her. He is able to help Eowen see that there is more to live for than she believed and she is able to hope for the future instead of wishing to die from despair.

Is it canon that Feanor made the Palatri or was that just an educated guess on Gandalf's part?

Is that giant "as big as an elm tree and walking" the hobbits talk about in the pub in one of the first chapters an entwife? I always assumed it was but I've never seen anyone else mention it.

Is Goldberry a maia? If not what is she?

Gollum is a lot funnier than I remember, he's just such a drama queen. He can't eat lembas? "oh poor Smegol, he must starve! "

The orcs come across as a lot smarter and more like real people than I remember, yes they're evil but they're just doing their jobs, trying to get promoted and not lose their heads. Also they have wages. I don't know why but this was one of the biggest surprises in the whole book, how "civilised" the orcs were. They, and Mordor in general, are really an industrial power fighting a medieval one. Which shouldn't be a surprise considering what Tolkien clearly thought about industry, but I was caught off guard by it.

That's all the thoughts I have, for now at any rate, hopefully it wasn't too confusing.

[tsarisfanfiction]

#5 (Sing A Song of Seven)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Teen Genre: Family, Angst Character: Michael Yew A series of Cabin Seven oneshots.  This time: There's a spy in camp. Finally my muses have decided to write something again! This chapter draws a little from mine and @stereden's fic Lie to Me, although reading that fic isn't necessary to understand this one (but I will still encourage people to go listen to Stereden's recording of it!). At some point these ficlets will stop being Michael-centric but for now that's clearly not happening. Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one!  If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<#4

The realisations creep up on Michael slowly, as he leaves the meeting.

The revelation of a spy horrifies him while making too much fucking sense, because Beckendorf is dead, because Kronos’ army knew he and Percy were coming and made the whole thing a fucking trap that Beckendorf sprung to make sure they didn’t lose Percy, because losing Percy meant losing the whole war and they all knew that.

Of course there was a fucking spy in their camp, someone that Michael couldn’t trust because they were feeding information to Kronos and getting them – not just them, but certain, lynchpin, demigods – killed off one by one.  Of course there was, because why wouldn’t there be?  Enough demigods were traitors that why wouldn’t there be more pretending that they weren’t, hiding in plain sight and causing the most damage?

Michael’s angry about it, can feel his temper churning under his skin and making small bids for freedom that he can’t quite stop, has never been able to stop by himself and now Lee’s not here to help him stop it, diffuse it in a way that doesn’t have consequences.

Lee’s not here because he’s dead and the gaping hole torn through his heart hasn’t even started to heal yet, even though Michael has to pretend it has, that the grief isn’t still raw and playing havoc with his self-control, because he’s in charge, now, and that means younger siblings that need someone strong to hold them together are looking to him.

Lee’s not here because he’s dead and this time the thought sparks something else, something else that then ignites the inferno of Michael’s ever-simmering rage because how fucking dare Luke.

There’s a spy in the camp, and spies are liars.  They say all the right things at all the right times, but they don’t mean a word of it because they believe the wrong fucking things, that the gods are worse than Kronos, that the gods need to fall for demigods to survive.  They don’t mean a word of it and that means they’re liars and if Lee was still here, he’d have noticed.

Lee isn’t here, because he’s fucking dead.  Because he was killed, in a fucking battle that happened inside the safety of camp, where it was never supposed to reach, and because Lee’s not here to spot liars, Beckendorf is dead.  More of them will die, too, because Michael isn’t naïve and this feels like a start, except maybe it’s not because they lost two head counsellors last summer, lost Lee last summer, so maybe this is a continuation.

Lee’s not here to spot liars and Michael knows that very few people knew what Lee could sense, because Lee was always so careful not to let on, but he also knows that one of the people that did know was fucking Luke.  Luke, who works for Kronos, who leads the demigod faction of the titan’s fucking army, who is probably the spy’s handler because they’re a fucking demigod, too.

Lee got killed last summer but that’s not right, because Lee was murdered last summer, before the war kicked up a notch and sabotage missions started and got sabotaged.  Before the spy started passing information.

Luke needed Lee out of the way so that he could have a fucking spy.

The list of people that Michael hates is a short one.  There are many people that annoy him, and more he dislikes.  There are even people he can’t fucking stand.  But hate is something different, something visceral, and for most of his life it’s been succinctly headed by the bastard his mom married.

Luke had wriggled his way onto the bottom of the list, somewhere between can’t stand and hate, years ago, when Michael had inexplicably woken up in the middle of the night in a way he never does to hear Lee sobbing into his pillow, broken from Luke’s fucking betrayal.

Michael is well aware that Lee would never have told him about his truth-sensing if it wasn’t for that night, when he’d been torn wide open by Luke demonstrating how much of a piece of shit he was.

Now, with the realisation that Luke must have wanted Lee out of the way so he could get on with killing the rest of them off via sabotage and other ways of Hermes fucking nonsense, he’s catapulted himself straight to the top of the fucking list and Michael’s certain he’ll stay there until he dies, at least.

Michael already wasn’t calm, not after arguing with Clarisse again, but the realisations have made his temper worse and he can’t just turn it off, not without Lee’s help.  All he can do is channel it, try to minimise the casualties, because he can’t explode on his siblings.  He just can’t.

Clarisse isn’t on his hate list, despite what most people think, but she is on his can’t fucking stand list and right now, with her bullshit over the fucking chariot, that’s close enough.  His temper has to go somewhere and with its primary target out of fucking reach, wherever Luke’s hiding like the bastard he is – and his spy sneaking around with lies that Michael can’t see through, because he’s not Lee, could never be Lee – Clarisse makes a good enough secondary target.

He knows she can’t be the spy; Clarisse spying on anyone is laughable, she’s not got a subtle bone in her fucking body.  But it doesn’t matter, because Michael is pissed and his rage has to go somewhere.

It’s not like she doesn’t fucking deserve it anyway.

[expectris-patronum]

i've seen a lot of "dead poets society characters as..." posts on tumblr and I thought I could do the same thing with Latin texts/fragments/... since the poets learn Latin at Welton.

Two things first:

1. almost all translations are from the internet

and 2. English is not my mother tongue, so don't be surprised if something sounds very strange.

Neil

Neil could be this passage of Horace's Odes because that's where the term "carpe diem" comes from

Todd

At first I thought a poem would be the best kind of text for Todd. But when I was going through the Ovid texts we were studying in Latin class, I came across this extract from Ovid's Tristia. I think it fits Todd quite well because it combines poetry, an older brother and a father who isn't particularly proud of his younger son. But I don't know if it counts as a poem.

Charlie

The fragment that suits Charlie best would surely be the introduction to Ovid's Ars Amatoria, because presenting himself as the god of love is something that Charlie would actually do

Meeks

I wanted to give Meeks something more scientific than lyrical. The only texts of this kind that I know are Pliny's letters about a volcanic eruption. No quotes this time. The whole letter suits him.

Pitts

Pitts just gives me Martial vibes. Martial wrote a lot of short poems in which he basically made fun of people.

This one means something like: I don't know what you write to so many girls, Faustus, but I know that no girl writes you.

Knox

Knox has a huge crush on Chris, which reminds me of Catullus' poems about Lesbia.

Cameron

Cameron could be some typical Latin class reading that is hated by students and loved by teachers. So I thought Caesar's works would be a good choice for him. I can't find a specific line or book for him, he just gives me general Caesar texts vibes

[almightytuba]

I’ve been putting this post off for a while now but it’s becoming increasingly more important as the situation progresses.

I have been a part of the NanoWriMo YWP for four years now. I joined at a generally bad time and found some wonderful companions via the site. In my years there I have made connections, found community, improved and renewed my love for writing. That is not to say that the experience was entirely good, however. I will be forever grateful for the friends I’ve made and the outlet it gave me in rough times but I have been left disgusted overall by the site.

This site is promoted for anyone under 18, the forums available to anyone 13-18. The program is not only readily available with no moderation as to verifying users (allowing for many spam accounts and ‘backups’, as I will address in a moment) but is promoted in schools nation-wide. Without any protection and moderation on a global site, the YWP creates a breeding ground for predatory behavior in a place advertised towards children and teens. It’s my firm belief that yes, the YWP is a fantastic concept- most teens are not able to find supportive communities or allowed to express themselves and the site acts as such, This is a horrifying notion but it’s realistic when children are continuously and purposely overlooked for the purpose of ‘saving face.’ The YWP has done exactly that. It has failed not only me, but my friends, teachers, and schools.

I have been present for a mere fraction of the garbage the site allows to fester within it. I cannot speak from experience in all events but what I can speak for with certainty, I will.

1- Predators and predatory behavior. One of the greatest flaws of the site is that what could have been avoided genuinely avoided if its users taken seriously or given an ounce of respect. Predators being allowed to run rampant is not in the least new to the site and it’s almost entirely up to its users to keep themselves safe. Mods have continued to err on the side of perpetrators. Perhaps if this happened once, it could be excusable by some great reach- but this is repeated behavior from the people entrusted to the site. Time after time I have engaged in “flagging battles”- the only thing users have virtually with no in-site blocking system- against users telling teens to kill themselves, to doxx themselves, to engage in sexual activities. Let me remind you that YWP is a writing site for children- and if accounts can that simply lie about their age, I can assure you there are users younger than the 13 minimum roaming around the site.

2- Harassment and bullying. As I said above, anyone can make an account. This includes troll/spam accounts, and sheer amount of repeat offenders on the site is repulsive. In the rare case mods do anything about what occurs in-site (rather than ban users that are self-moderating and genuinely trying to help), users are just able to make a new account. The sheer amount of times I have seen backup accounts log made for the sake of spamming “KYS” is almost astonishing. I could talk for ages on this; how the same user has come back and perpetuated racism, sexism, homophobia- anything just to ‘piss people off’. The YWP is allegedly a ‘safe space’ for its large queer community and a neurodivergent populous. With this rampant behavior the site only works to perpetuate hate.

3- Moderation. I am aware that this is a subject of controversy, many vocal points screaming out at the YWP- “why don’t you just ignore it if you don’t like it?” And to that I ask you if ignoring a prevalent problem truly makes it dissipate. Although the answer clear, we are still told our anger unjustified or methods fear-mongering. This disgusts me. We are justified. We are allowed to be as vocally angry as we wish because we have been wronged and have virtually no other power to do anything about it.

There are endless ways that the mods have failed us. By refusing to listen to the community they only work to make the space less safe, banning those who speak out and ‘hurt their feelings’ or by kicking dirt over incidents of their own failure. This is non-conducive work and I have no idea how it passed for it for so long.

If you have any questions, feel free to ask me.

[wildissylupus]

Here's another rant for you, Kiriko isn't a poorly written character or contradictory or unnecessary, people just generally don't understand the meaning of her lore.

The Age Gap

First thing I want to address is the age thing, more specifically people saying that it doesn't make sense that Kiriko and Genji could be close with Genji being 35 and Kiriko being in her early 20s.

As someone who has their dynamic with my cousins who I have the same kind of age gap, I (obviously) find this incorrect.

I've seen people act as though Genji took her to parties and stuff, but realistically, they most likely only interacted while Genji was at the Shimada house or while training. Also its been shown that both Genji and Kiriko didn't have personal connections outside of they're families or the clan until after the Shimada clan fell. So of course they would be close, they literally only had each other.

Not only that but as I'm writing this I'm reading the Yokai short story and on the first page it is shown that the Shimada brothers obviously treated her like a younger cousin/sibling.

That and her young age is actually a big part of her story, growing up being a main theme in her cinematic, and her age actually influencing a lot of her views. Which I will get into later.

Her Personality

I've seen people say that Kiriko's personality in game contradicts what we were shown in her cinematic. The thing people forget is that the ideviduals she interacts with are people she is close to, her mum and her neighbours which she either learned sign language for or she was just generally close to.

This is important to recognise because she doesn't know most of the cast of Overwatch. So of course she's not going to treat them the same way that she treats people she considers family.

Not only that but Overwatch specially did nothing to help with the power vacuum they created. They are literally the reason the Hashimoto have so much control now, of course she's not going to be overtly nice to its members.

Not only that but the three members of Yokai that we know are stated to be younger then Kiriko, teenagers. She's leader and she needs to act like it because if she doesn't, kids could die.

I think this is most shown in her interaction with Ana;

Ana: You remind me of myself when I was younger.

Kiriko: That a compliment?

Ana: You be the judge.

Kiriko: Okay, thanks for the compliment.

Her Interactions and Relationships

"I won't say the Shimada were perfect, especially at the end..." - Kiriko, Yokai short story

I've seen people say that Kiriko defends the Shimada clan while also being "too hostile" towards Hanzo. The line above disproves the first claim, Kiriko just sees the Shimadas as the lesser evil of the "Shimada vs Hashimoto". Not only that but the whole being "too hostile" with Hanzo thing can be justified by one thing, canonically Kiriko doesn't know the finer details on what happened to Genji.

The most she could know is that Hanzo killed Genji, that's it. And we don't even know if she knows that, all she could know would be that Genji is dead and Hanzo skipped town.

Not only that but because she doesn't know the finer details she most likely believes that Hanzo abandoned her family and Kanesaka, either for no reason or he abandoned the post he killed his own brother for.

I hate how people act like everyone would be fine with Hanzo, like, Kiriko has a right to be mad at him and be openly hostile.

As for her other interactions I do think that some are brought down by poor line delivery, that's it.

But as I mentioned before, Kiriko has no reason to be nice to an organisation who didn't help fix a problem they caused.

Her Role in the Story

I believe Kiriko was introduced in order to cause conflict in the Shimada storyline, because I'm tired of people believing that Hanzo's redemption would be an easy road. Realistically Kiriko, Angela and Cassidy, along with other Overwatch agents, would at the very least not trust him and at most despise him.

Just because Genji has forgiven Hanzo doesn't mean his actions still didn't have consequences and I think Kiriko will be an example of that.

I also think that she will be a driving point for both Ana and Cassidy's opinion that sometimes Overwatch did more harm then good.

Essentially I think her character is going to be a driving point for other characters until she gets her own arc, maybe in a mini/separate story campaign.

(I honestly love the idea of her getting an anime)

Her Voice (this is more of a theory/headcannon)

Personally I think her having an American accent is a result of her having to go into hiding after the Shimada clan fell. I believe she had to learn how to do an American accent so the Hashimoto wouldn't hurt her. Because they didn't really seem to know Kiriko in the cinematic and her having an American accent would throw people off of gaining the suspicion she was related to the Shimadas or her mother in any way.

It a reasonable assumption considering the Hashimoto literally kidnapped her dad and is forcing her mum to work for them.

[meownotgood]

This is so unrelated, but there's this discussion right now on tik tok about when fandom spaces became so mean, and someone mentioned that it's because people come into fandom spaces with "weird kids" and get surprised by them doing "weird kid things" and essentially lack fandom etiquette. Anyways that reminded me of that person that came in your asks screaming abt how you're disgusting for writing smutty fanfics😭 like bro this is an anime fandom that's just what goes on here and in fandoms in general. The fact that they got all heated abt this on TUMBLR of all places just made it even more unserious. Like fork found it kitchen man.

I saw that post too, and I completely agree with fandom spaces being so mean in the past few years.

honestly, I feel like A) younger people are just extremely rude in general, and B) many fandom spaces that were once seen as niche are now more popular, especially anime and fanfic.

the majority of time when I see someone being an ass, or when I get a rude comment, it's from a kid. like dude I know kids are mean but I swear it wasn't this bad when I was that age, but now all I see is children leaving the nastiest hate comments. also there's a lot more younger people in spaces made for adults (like anime and fanfic), especially after covid because they had nothing to do so they spent all their time on the internet. parents don't care about their kids internet usage so they just run rampant. the amount of children I've seen commenting on nsfw content these days is alarming

it's definitely not just younger people, and there's always going to be assholes. like I wouldn't say fandom has always been accepting it's just like... a new kind of asshole you know... like now people are so quick to make fun because someone is doing what they think is unacceptable. it isn't enough now to just say "yeah this sucks". I'm not a dark content writer but the comments ppl leave on that now are insufferable. it's also so easy to get bullied for being "cringe", it's acceptable now to just record people who are in public minding their own business and post it because you think they're weird... yeah I just can't

[heartfulselkie]

*drops an armful of things on my way in*🧃🧸📚🥐🏜️🦋🦴🐚 oops

I uh...I think you dropped something 😂

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

I have one tattoo but would like to get more! The one I have already is of the Outsider's Mark from the game Dishonored and its on the back of my shoulder. I would have gotten it on the back of ym hand like in the game, but I knew that would wear out pretty fast (and I also wasn't wanting something too painful for my first tattoo). I would like to get other ones, but because of reasons it might never happen.

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual?

I guess it depends what kind of mutual? If you mean the kind of mutual that I would politely nod at if we passed by in the street, then that really just happens by chance. I see a blog I like and follow them. Maybe they follow me back or were already following me 🤷‍♂️ If you mean the kind of mutual I cook blorbos with and bark at each other at all hours over blorbo thoughts then that isn't something that would happen through Tumblr alone I don't think. The mutuals I play pass the brain cell with are people I've had relatively frequent conversations with on discord so we know we just kind of click. I'm very bad at conversation (especially with new people) though so it can take a while for me to settle into frequent talking with someone 😅

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

A grocery list. Not very exciting 😂

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

I have forgotten any and all internet references in existence upon being asked this.

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Any comment... 👉👈 As long as its not negative I'm happy to receive any comment. I'm a glutton for validation.

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately 

I wish I'd been surrounded by better people when I was younger. I've dealt with a lot of failure from the various adults in my life, and now that I'm an adult myself I'm having to fix all that and pick up the slack. I like to think there's another version of me in some alternate timeline that got to pursue the things they love and know themself much sooner than where I'm at now. Maybe they'd be completely different. Or maybe they'd be the same. It's just something I think about. (I really tried to think of a less depressing answer to this one but I am really just a melancholic sort of person through and through 😂)

🦴 ⇢ is there a piece of media that inspires your writing? 

Just...just one?? I can find inspiration from almost anything if its something that resonates with me. Music, video games, movies, books... But I suppose something I always come back to is fairy tales (and also fae creatures themselves). It's just something I grew up with and I have spent a lot of time being obssessed with the mythology and lore of them.

🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?

It's a very situational kind of thing. Generally I hate surprises that mean a change of plans or things being sprung on me out of nowhere. But small things like someone saying "I got you X thing because it reminded me of you/because I know you like it" is always nice. Like I cried on my last birthday because my dad sent me flowers and I wasn't expecting anything 😂

[Truth or Dare Ask Game]