#Will share more specific and eloquent thoughts if and when I ever have them again

[violent138]

Real fights are messy and I'm sure biting, scratching, scrambling away on your ass are all on the table and encouraged, but sparring matches in the Batcave between the Bats are probably sick as fuck when they try (aka the siblings are not bent on just beating the shit out of each other), because they're using a meld of techniques from about a hundred different martial arts, tapping into their unique strengths, and a near inhuman reading of each other (both from years of working together and experience) and an insane reflex time.

[dafpork]

dafpork is growing on me but it also feels like my secret and forbidden ship that I cannot ever talk about or reblog </3

PPPPPPPLLLLEEEEEEEAAAAASE YOU GOTTA YOU GOTTA PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!! ....i say on my "secret" blog for similar reasons. but i swear if i didn't have family and bosses and coworkers and friends who Work With These Characters And Have Offered Me Previous Job Opportunities Involving Them following me, i would be spreading the word of Dafpork on every single account as loudly as i can. and even then i've sort of let my mask slip on main as i try to internalize "you stumbled upon this yourself, you're looking at a previously established exhibit rather than me putting on an exhibit that caters to you, specifically."

BUT I KNOW HOW IT FEELS SOOOO MUCH. LIKE. UNBELIEVABLY. I GET YOU. again i didn't invent this ship, but i would definitely consider myself the CEO since. Dafpork is a term my friend and i came up with it and started using first! i wrote the very first traceable Dafpork fic online! BUT I SAY THAT BECAUSE I GET IT, i felt like literally nobody other than myself and my friend shipped them and i just kept so so so much between us. and even when i saw people drawing more stuff/using the term, i didn't feel like i could come out and reblog or interact or be like "YES!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" for the reasons above.. and i'm sure just internalized issues as well

BUT THAT'S WHY YOU GOTTA. PLEASE. if you have the opportunity to be loud and proud about it please do. i know my own reasoning for my privacy is kind of bogus because like, even if i work in animation, who cares right. but i still don't feel like explaining to WB recruiters why i drew the pig and duck kissing. which again i know it doesn't really matter but it's a whole convoluted thing about personal safety. so this is why i'm such an advocate for people to be loud in my stead. i don't know you obviously and you could have a bunch of personal reasons too for preventing you from doing such, but like.. my circumstances for privacy are very very very specific to me. i imagine you probably have more freedom and anonymity than me in that regard, so... PLEASE!!!!!!

ALSO. LIKE. BEYOND ALL THAT. WE ARE SO SMALL. we need all the support we can get please i am dying for more people to interact and share and love this ship. it means so much to me. that i kinda have to sequester myself off genuinely upsets me sometimes so if you have the freedom to interact PLEASE DO.. ANON i thought i was gonna have an eloquent response for you but it all just went out the window because i hate the idea of someone having to go through what i do and also PLEASE I WILL GET ON MY KNEES AND BEG YOU TO INTERACT. IT'S SO WORTH IT. TRUST ME. i'm sad about the circumstances that lead to me having this blog, but it's also been so so so great for my mental health as someone who doesn't really get to have any privacy on the internet. it's so freeing. make a separate dafpork blog just for your dafpork antics. it's so worth it

i'm also genuinely curious to hear what's stopping you--no pressure obviously, sometimes "i don't wanna" is a valid excuse! and again i know my situation is weirdly hypocritical, it probably doesn't matter as much as i think it does but it also does and etc etc. beyond that, i'd be so loud and obnoxious about these guys, so i'm curious to hear what the hang-up is--is it because it's unpopular? isn't the widely accepted ship? just internalized feelings (Porky and Daffy got me to stop hating myself for being a lesbian and ruining a relationship bc of internalized homophobia so as silly as it may sound for me to bring up i genuinely get it)?

JOIN US! the more people that join in, the more these issues are tampered. pleeeeasseee anon i'm so sad i can't word this more tactfully but i'm so excited to hear we have another and so heartbroken that you feel this way that i am literally seconds from begging on my knees. this goes to anyone lurking here too! if you have the means to participate please do, i know i'm so hypocritical with my circumstances but that's why i'm such an advocate for letting people have fun and do as they please and be loud and open and proud about it. i literally get upset thinking about how many more people i could share this interest with if it were safer for me to share on main... so!! AHHHH I DONT KNOW. JOIN US ANON even if you make a secret sideblog it's so worth it i promise you. i will give you a million dollars

[aldisobey]

🌻 🌹 🌸 🌱 🌼 🌷 🌺 🌿 a full bouquet for Worne xoxo

Full bouquet you say? Take a garden in reply! (Oh fuck it’s a goddamn farm, industrialized flower farm here. Can’t stop won’t stop look at this creature if you like.) Thanks for the asks! Was good to have an excuse to get the history thoughts down for ref! xoxo

I’m putting it below a thing because my soul is witless, brevity what

🌻 How old is your Rook? How do they feel about celebrating their birthday? What gift has meant the most to them?

Rook ‘Worne’ Thorne is mid-thirties. He doesn’t know his exact age and doesn’t know his birthday. Parents were plenty dead before memories could be formed. Born and grew in Kirkwall, more specifically Darktown, and those early years were simple survival, he doesn’t remember much. But he’s a man in love with life and doesn’t mind making it awkward for people when they ask. ‘Ah shit I forgot! It was yesterday, no one ever remembers’ type stuff.

When it comes to celebrating he would normally do something special around the new year with friends. Gather up those in the same situation and party. A tradition for him in Kirkwall and later at Weisshaupt, he’s far from the only one that doesn’t know their birthday after all. And hey when things are scarce it just makes sense to put all the holidays together and celebrate another year of survival. He loves parties and birthdays, loves celebrating anything really. He’d likely be delighted to pick a special day for himself but the thought would never occur to him. Never really had time to think about it, never thought it would really matter or never saw a need? Like why? Would anyone care about a ‘fake’ birthday’?

As far as gifts go, the one that meant the most was a book he got from Varric as a kid. He credits it, and the dwarf, for his ability to read. And he credits it and the dwarf’s stories for most of his morals and character, he latched onto what he could. So that first one is a keystone, ‘borrowed’ plenty others, but that was his. And as much as he loves all the new grave gold, I think he’d treasure a first edition signed copy of whatever Bellara is writing most if it were about his Veilguard family. Especially if she includes some of the details Emmrich let him share about ‘romance’. He always dreamed of being in one of Varric’s books. Oh, also a handkerchief Emmrich gave him the first day they met. Professor was tired of seeing him use his sleeve. He’s never used the handkerchief.

🌸 Does your Rook have any siblings or close friends they see as such? Where are they during the events of Veilguard?

No siblings. And yet all the siblings. He would consider every single Warden a sibling. You’re kin if you undertake the Joining; survive or not. He might be a shit Warden that leaves collapsed buildings in his wake, but there’s always a breath of relief from his peers when they’re assigned to work with him. After all they know the job will get done, they’ll get back alive in one piece, and Worne’ll happily take the fall for any fires he started, or they both started. He delights in pissing off the Warden Commander and holds his position as ‘worst Warden’ with pride.

Greta is a very dear friend, she’s one of the very few (if only) Wardens left from around his entry time. They’ve been on again off again friends with benefits but always strictly platonic.

Antoine and Evka consider him their adult son. Forever a blessed third wheel that might’ve taken too many hits to the head. He’s really hoping they want kids or adopt some after all this Blight business because he wants to be a ‘big brother or uncle’. He’d love to be the Varric for others. He knows he’s not nearly as eloquent, but he can throw you really high into the air and catch you and isn’t that almost as good? He’s made it a personal mission to make sure Mila gets everything she needs and wants because my goodness she could run a country and he owes her his life. That’s his niece right there.

🌱 Was Rook involved romantically with anyone before Veilguard? What was their partner like? How did the relationship end?

Officially no. Romance has never been a thing he has time for, he was always fascinated by whatever Antoine and Evka had but a future isn’t something a Warden plans for. Didn’t know what real ‘courtship’ looked like in reality. Emmrich confused the hell out of him at first. Worne had relied on his looks and simple flirting to drop hints for ‘wanna bang?’ Something clicked in his head at “Close your eyes. Take a breath.” The thought occurred with a peek, ‘oh this is like the books!’, “Ah.” eyes shut, “Slow. Deep.” and just awash with, ‘This happens?! That stuffs real?’ Cue head over heels for the necromancer.

That said. Near the end of his time in Kirkwall he was working with a more ‘official’ group of criminal young folk. He partnered up for a lot of jobs with an apostate mage. Not many of those around, the group only knew the one, and so they put him in Rook’s care. Guarding a target has always been his specialty, especially if they’re a mage with any healing capability. He’ll take a hit to make sure nothing gets near the caster. Mindset of ‘well if they get you we’re all dead, just gotta kill them in time for you to patch me up’.

Anyways. They were crushing on each other when a job went bad. Everyone dead but them. Rook and mage were given the choice of gallows or Wardens. His friend didn’t survive the Joining. The lich ritual was not a fun thing to experience with that in the back of his head but he hasn’t mentioned that history to anyone. Greta wouldn’t even remember the name of the mage and Rook doesn’t speak of it.

🌹 What’s the first genuine fight Rook got in with their love interest about? How was it resolved?

Worne nearly killed a Nevarran nobleman. It wasn’t long after the skull fade thing and he was deep into his romance books at that point. They were in the city to pick up some materials for Emmrich, who was off talking with the shopkeeper, when Rook caught an offhand comment nearby. Something about the way the man said Volkarin was off, threatening, dismissive, disrespectful? He’d heard violence like that before.

So he walked on over and quietly, politely asked the noble to explain himself and/or apologize. Rook’s not sure what words were exchanged after that because all he remembers is punching that smug face after them. Laid him out flat. Broke his nose. Honestly Worne wasn’t expecting the noble to fold so quick based on how boldly he spoke. But that head bounce on the ground was bad and the noble likely would’ve died if Emmrich hadn’t rushed over in horror. Rook was ready to finish the job because you don’t leave threats alive. They had words. A lot of words before Emmrich all but demanded Rook wait for him back at the Lighthouse while he dealt with this.

Rook left with a, ‘Fine! Why don’t you fuck him when you’re done kissing his ass?’ Didn’t go to the Lighthouse though because no way in hell he’s leaving that mage alone in danger so he haunted alleyways within sight and showed up just after Emmrich. Many more heated words were exchanged at the Lighthouse. But it led to some deeper talk. They resolved it when Emmrich offered to let Rook hold his hand or the like whenever he felt the need to ‘deal with a threat’ of the sort. Emmrich would handle it peacefully and he’d let go if/when violence was warranted. It’s worked for them since. Lotta threats out there.

🌼 If someone was to ask Spite what Rook smells like, what would he say?

“Smells like earth. Old leather, dirt…blood. Rook’s? Another? Both.”

🌷If Rook needed to get away from their responsibilities for a moment, where would they go? Where is their safe space outside the Lighthouse?

He refuses to disclose his hiding place at the Lighthouse. Only Manfred knew where it was and it’s where they kept their ‘stick stash’ of staves, swords, wands, and daggers Rook would gather in Arlathan for Manfred, nothing like a good stick. And nothin like a good stick fight. Guesses are you have to crawl through a pretty tight tunnel to get there.

Outside of the Lighthouse he’ll find the latest shittiest bar in Docktown. He wants it loud, he wants it crowded, and he wants his crab cakes and beer nuts with nasty beer. He’s found the best place to be alone is in a crowd. Very good at disappearing in such. Often after he’s had his fill he’ll look for a ‘comfy’ spot in the literal streets to nap or sleep for the night. No better place to be invisible than literally in everyone’s view looking destitute. His safe place is literally the most dangerous streets he can find.

🌺 Is there an object from Rook’s childhood they look back on fondly? (ie a favorite stuffed animal, book, or food)

He has a stone that he found in Darktown (actually features in a blurb). Think worry stone. He found it before he was Rook, so before six. He liked the shape and feel. It’s a simple dull grey oval. Might’ve killed a man with it once. Considers it lucky. He kept that storybook Varric gave him as a kid back at Weisshaupt, but considers it lost after the fortress fell. He’s not too torn up about it, he memorized it anyway, but it still stings.

🌿 Does your Rook have any tattoos? What was the moment when they got them like? If they’re a Crow where is their de Riva brand located? What vallaslin do they have/how did they earn it if they’re Dalish?

Worne has two tattoos. He got his second in the classic Warden ‘Joining’ style on his right arm, cup and lines and the like. The Wardens still make fun of him for how he sat for it. For a man that’ll take a dislocated shoulder with a grin he is the ultimate baby when it comes to sitting for a tattoo. And it’s not that he thinks it hurts, he just hates needles. Something about a wound that doesn’t leave much a mark unnerves him. He’d likely have more tattoos if he could get over that thought but ew.

His first tattoo is the Kirkwall coat of arms, it’s about five inches and on his upper mid back. He’s not telling you about the third. It’s a small Rook chess piece and he’s not saying where it is. But yeah, plenty of bellyaching from him when he got them all, which is rare for him.

[clochanam-archive]

@svinoeikona: i'm actually struggling to just write one paragraph about this specific blog of yours, and i'll struggle with the rest too, bc the contents are just MIND-BLOWINGLY divine! like you're out here writing thranduil, jim moriarty, peter parker, gale dekarios and charles xavier on the same blog??? you're able to do that!! and i can tell from experience that the things you'll write here are going to transform my entire worldview! the dedication you have to writing such beautiful portrayals, plus the amount of love and respect you have for your mutuals, is unfathomable! i've never known a time where i wasn't happy to see you on the dash, and every thread you've ever written has so much joy and light pouring from it, even the angsty ones (and holy crap i've shed some tears reading your more emotional work!) and you can just tell that both yourself and your partners are so thrilled and engaged in each thread you've posted on the dash! i could talk for years about you, but i'm just going to stop myself now and conclude this paragraph by saying that you truly make the dash a wonderful place to be, not just for myself but for everyone who's ever had the pleasure of getting to know you!

@mourrning: em, every moment of our friendship has made me smile, and i know that won't change any time soon! the absolute range of your talent is something that always amazes me, because just reading the muse list on this specific multi alone??? i'm in AWE! how do you do it?? you've got ron stampler right next to shadowheart, and i know for a FACT that you'll write them both with the most insane degree of eloquent brilliance that you write EVERY muse you ever come across! you're about to make me go rewatch lo.tr and fight with my computer to play bg.3 again and relisten to dungeons and daddies! you mentioned being nervous about writing fantasy muses, but let me tell you, i KNOW you're going to be amazing at this, and i can tell from knowing you for so long and also from the absolutely incredible slides you wrote up so far! and on top of absolutely everything else, your friendship is a gift that i still can't believe i'm worthy of. you're such a good, compassionate person, you make time for all your friends, and it shows so much, through your interactions on the dash, and even in the intricate details and emotional connections that shine through in your threads. i'm absolutely amazed by you, and the dash is such a better place with you here!

@jennifershepard: i'm so excited to talk about you and this blog, like i'm excited to talk about all your blogs, but you've got me looking at ncis again in a "rewatch soon" kinda way! and here's the thing, i know for a fact that i'm gonna watch it and be like "nah, dorothea did this better". your creativity will genuinely never fail to astound me! again, i'm being very strict with myself by focusing exclusively on this blog, but looking through the threads you've written with jennifer, it's absolutely phenomenal the amount of thought, plotting, care and exploration you've achieved with her, and no doubt will continue to achieve! jennifer's character in the show always reminded me of legacies and a life well-lived, but with the thread we have where she visits the diner, even her survival and witness protection is written out by you with such a fantastic and realistic style! as is the case with all the muses fortunate enough to enter your loving arms, i'd read a million books written by you about her, and still want a million more. i'm so happy to be friends with you, and i'm so happy you're here to share more of your light and creativity on the dash!

@prcspcr: idek where to start here! i truly can't remember a time when you weren't on my dash, and without question the dash has been a far brighter place because of you! once again, you've inspired me to add a number of series and movies to my watchlist through your love and stellar portrayal of spock. writing a character with the background and socially steered personality that spock has would be a challenge to most people, and yet any time i've seen you writing him, it seems completely natural! you write spock with such poignancy, and in doing so you always balance out the two parts of his background, from his mother and his father, so beautifully in your writing! your love for this remarkable character, as is the case with all your muses, plus your enthusiasm for writing and for writing with your friends, are things that always bring joy to my dash and also to my life! you've always advocated for taking breaks, you're always developing such rich and organic dynamics with your friends, and i'm forever thrilled to be one of those lucky people who knows you!

@lackenthusiasm: mel ur talents are almost frightening to me. or at least they would be, if you weren't so absolutely lovely and wonderful!! you dedicate so much time and interest to all your muses, and norm is no different. you've written so many spectacular and deeply insightful pieces for him, as you do with all your muses, and they're always a joy to read! and then you fold them into your threads and replies too, with little revelations hidden in your incredible writing that always leave me thinking about it for days to come. norm is a character who pursued a fascinating plotline in the series, but you've made me want a whole spin-off dedicated to him now! (but only if you're directing it yk?) but above it all, there's you. and you've always been such a kind, wonderful friend to me and to everyone who's had the pleasure of knowing you! your enthusiasm to connect and plot and to explore new dynamics and scenarios, plus your genuine compassion, are all part of what make you such a phenomenal person in all respects, and i'm so grateful to know you!

[coastal-coyote]

intro post!

[plain text: intro post!]

lyrics/ [ when i run through the deep dark forest, long // after this begun, where the sun would set and the trees were dead and the rivers were none ] /end lyrics

-TLDR info-

Name: Blackberry or Coyote

Pronouns: he/him

I do not use the word 'bioterms' anymore due to it being coined in an anti-physical therian post, but refer to me as you would a theriform canine. I have paws, a tail, a muzzle, etc.

I am a suntherian (therian with NO 'human side' or human parts of myself, 100% nonhuman) and i am transspecies. I'm a polytherian, and my types are coyote, northwestern grey wolf, vancouver sea wolf, and cougar.

before you interact, as a warning: i am 100% nonhuman. i am not a 'person' in the human sense, only in the sense that i am a being with a soul. do not expect me to have human opinions on human issues or be an outspoken activist about things not directly relating to me. that isn't how my brain works. i am a coyote. i will do my part to help those i love and consider part of my pack and therefore my responsibility to help and keep safe, but i honestly do not care much about humans who are not part of my pack. i'm not a misanthrope, i am simply indifferent. theyre a very cute species IMO, but i feel about as strongly about them as i do about, like. giraffes. not my place, not my business, i dont really care. if this upsets you, i dont wanna hear it.

If you are 14 or under, please do not DM me or attempt to start a friendship with me! Due to my age I am not comfortable with that. I will assume that if you are talking to me, you are AT LEAST [pt: at least] 15. If you are not and already talking to me when you see this, please let me know! Im okay being an older brother figure and giving advice, but I would like that to be a very clear boundary and apart from a friend.

My tagging system will be below the cut <3 [heart emoticon]

hi! Im Blackberry, i'm a therian (fully nonhuman) and I needed somewhere on the internet to bark incessantly into the void.

about me!

Hi! I'm Blackberry, Berry or Coyote. I was put in this human body by my God and creator, the land and ocean herselves. you'll find a lot of nonhuman/transspecies joy and dysphoria on this blog, depending on how i'm feeling- it's where all my overtly and specifically nonhuman thoughts and experiences go. my main blog is @/cartoonghosts, if you wanna check it out. warning- i mask as human pretty hard over there. it's not a very accurate view of my selfhood, and almost all the posts i make are vents.

I'm bigender (boy who's a girl) but i do still prefer he/him pronouns solely, please! my gender is basically just my nonhumanity- im a boy as in im a coyote, im a girl as in im a cougar. hard to explain but i know some of you guys share my experiences.

I'm the main host of a system, and as far as i know only the subsystem im part of will ever post here as we're the only therians. my sysmate + friend/brother Sunny is otherpawed, we think, or some other more human type of animal connection, and he may post here sometimes during the summer but idk. he should sign off? probably?

In human terms, i have AuDHD (i'm a coyote- what were we expecting?) so dont expect me to be 100% eloquent and intelligent and good at human things on this blog, or anywhere. due to this, i tend to see things in a very black and white mannerism- the three options for my brain are 1) this is good, 2) this is bad, or 3) i dont care about this at all. being yelled at and told i am stupid or lazy does not change this. it is, again, because i am a coyote. please keep in mind that i am literally an animal if you have issue with things i say or believe.

Who I am!

Northwest Coast Coyote- my main 'type and 'baseline' of being. if i'm not in a shift towards another species, i am a coyote. my most coyote traits, which i love and bring me so much euphoria and joy, are my trickster/mischievous energy, my adaptability and ability to simply sit and survive whatever changes and hardships life throws at me, my resilience, my ravenous curiosity, and my pyromania.

Northwestern Grey Wolf- in terms of my grey wolf-ness, i am more femme/androgyne than coyote or seawolf. I don't know exactly what i would look like as a theriform grey wolf, but i've always connected with 'typical' patterns of grey, cream/white/pale grey, reddish brown, and black. my favorite wolf traits of myself are my loyalty to my pack, my nurturing of those more vulnerable to me, my aggression and protectiveness, my persistence, and my anger/ferocity.

Vancouver Island Coastal Wolf / Sea Wolf- my seawolf side is more reserved and quiet than my other types, and is often only brought to forefront when i am allowed to truly be myself on the pacific coasts. my relationship to the Ocean is through my seawolf side, and my favorite seawolf traits are my gentler curiosity, my playfulness, my fixation and focus when hunting, my love of the ocean and all things marine, and my calmness/gentleness.

Cougar- I only fully accepted and allowed myself to learn that i was a cougar more recently, as i used to insist that i was only a canine. My cougar side is my most feminine part, and although i still use he/him, the cougar part is where my womanhood comes from. i am still transmasc, i am simply a transmasc woman. my favorite cougar traits are how in tune i am with nature and the land, my drive and unwillingness to give up, my patience, my spitefulness, my grace, and my knowledge.

I am also doghearted, specifically a mutt dog. this is due to trauma and how i have been and am continually treated by human society.

Tagging system!

Format is #tag - what's in the tag

#coyote yipping incessantly - my original posts or posts where I talk

#blackberry talks - conversations over posts i have

#coyote irl - images of critters i feel look like me

#blackberry irl - images of me in my human form

#blackberry's art! - what it sounds like

#coyote loves humanity - me posting and generally gushing abt positive things about humans and human society. Feel free to block this tag!! Or any tbh

#coyote rewilding - my species transition and goals! I do not care if I am too transspecies or not transspecies enough for you, do not make it my problem.

--- this group is grouped together bc they all have similar explanations ---

#blackberry seawolfposting

#blackberry coyoteposting

#blackberry wolfposting

#blackberry cougarposting

--- all of these are tags for when im talking abt or reblogging something that reminds me of these kintypes!

Terms I use that may confuse you:

Pack- my pack is not specifically other therians, but a word I use to describe how I experience relationships. If someone is not part of my pack, I do not care if they live or die. I could not care less about them. When they cross the border into being accepted into my pack, I would die for them and do anything for them. Thst is not hyperbole. I would do literally anything for my beloved packmates.

Theriform- an animal that is not a therian- an animal which is constantly percieved by others as nonhuman and has fully typical presentation and mental function of the species, with no experiences in species transition or forced humanity. An animal which is not a therian.

Theriophobia- society's hatred and mistreatment of therian nonhumans. If you dont believe theriophobia exists, get the fuck off my page. You are not welcome here.

[blank]hearted- to not BE [pt: be] a creature, but to identify WITH [pt: with] it very strongly. For example, i am doghearted- although I am not a dog, due to my trauma and forced domestication at the hands of humans, I identify deeply and powerfully with them. I was also raised alongside dogs who felt far more like kin than my human family.

Lyrics/ [ in a hope for a trace // to lead me back, home from this place // but there was no sound, there was only me, and my disgrace ] /end lyrics

Lots of images ahead!

[Image ID- a black userbox-style gif with the words 'wolf therian' in the center in cream and two bones on each side]

[Image ID- a coyote therian moodboard with skulls and bones, dark mossy forests, and a picture of a coyote looking at the veiwer in the center. It has the therian symbol and a coyote skull overlayed on the main image.] Credit to @/therealcaraxes for the custom moodboard!

-- the rest of the images dont have ID yet, i will ID later --

[shiny-jr]

Hi Shiny! I’m not new to your blog but I have been reading up on the works I’ve missed since I haven’t been the most active on tumblr for like, a solid year, (possibly more?) and I forgot just how amazing your writing is; you are definitely one of my favorite writers, and I greatly enjoy every one of your works.

That’s why- as a reader who really wants to get into writing- I would love to hear what stands to be your biggest inspirations, and especially what media (whether it books, songs, films, etc.) has influenced your writing. I’ve been looking to develop my writing style by taking in the works of others, so any recommendations are appreciated!

Welcome back, anon! Let me see what I can think of off the top of my head.

As I sit here, the first thing I thought of is vocabulary. I think having a good VOCABULARY is key to making a good story, especially when it comes to the flow. I grew up reading a lot, and recently, I began reading more again just books and articles. Through that process, it's easy to learn words, see a new one, and look it up. You might remember said words and use them later.

I've actually been told that I speak kinda eloquently at certain times, like in a professional-business like way, which I totally don't mean to. But yeah, I digress, vocabulary is very important. I'll give you an example.

I started writing this chapter for a new series, and it was late at night, and my heart wasn't really in it. When I reviewed it, I immediately hated it. Why? Because of the vocabulary. It was all simple words, repetitive, and without any variety. I'm not saying your vocabulary has to be great or anything, but when I write, I always have a site called wordhippo open. Just for when I can't remember a specific word or I'm looking for a synonym to change things up and prevent that annoying repetitiveness.

CHARACTERIZATION is also a huge deal. Writing for characters that are not yours is not easy. It's difficult. One thing I do is if I'm not sure about a character's decisions, actions, dialogue, is I look for reference points from what they're from. Voicelines, art, anything helps. If its lacking, I try to think of another character they're similar to and ask myself what would this other character do? Would it be the same as the first character? That usually helps.

Of course, this includes character development and conflicts and relationships and such. I think some of the best characters I've ever seen in media, are from the animated Avatar: The Last Airbender. That series has such solid personalities, variety within the cast, good interesting conflicts, and one of the best character development arcs in modern day animated media.

As for songs, I usually just listen to instrumental songs when writing. I found that lyrics tended to distract me, which is why I try to avoid it when writing. No series or novels come to mind immediately, although I do write personal reviews for those I read. Most of which is either praise or criticizing (mostly criticizing) the writing style of the author, the characters, or the plot. I'm glad to share some of those, but I've written a good number of them and they're lengthy, just me yapping.

Anyways, that's a lot. I'm not sure if I answered your question as you wanted? I hope I did. Let me know if there's anything else.

[fideidefenswhore]

Hi! I understand if you don't feel like sharing it ,but i really would like to read your meta about that Henry/Anne scene in BSR ''Isn't that enough?''. I hope you have a nice day.

"is it enough for you?" , but yes, i actually elaborated on this a little more elsewhere in other tags because i used that shot of that scene again for another edit.

so, expanding where i left off:

the images chosen are more the vibe for the quotes but the one from BSR is very specific

it's a great scene and it's so well-acted bcus she feels BAD for him here.

she pities him. she feels bad for him because he's losing her bcs she's not going to settle for these terms

because she knows she's amazing

and she's so self-posessed in the scene

and he cannot handle this and so it manifests in the reaction(you're making a big mistake; except that is his own big projection)

she's willful and knows her worth and won't diminish herself for anyone

...and i chose the reaction from the scene bcus it's not necessarily at odds with these descriptions (of her 'prudence')

bcs it takes a lot of dignity and self-worth and inward grace to stand one's ground enough (to withstand the 'tide of their prince')

...to give that rejection that by all social and cultural norms and graces she was simply not supposed to give. or was at least supposed to couch in more self-effacing terms.

but yeah anyway i know people thought BSR was 'trashy' but i actually thought the acting and chemistry between them was really great and maybe even lifted the writing from its weaker points.

because just the way he reels back at the line 'is it enough for you?' in all its pity-wrought glory...firstly, because it seems like it's a question no one has ever thought to ask him before, and secondly, so it gives way into that transformation from the shock into anger (how a 'lesser' person is daring to pity him, how he doesn't want her pity, he wants her love) which is just...chef's kiss. she absolutely obliterates his dignity here, not only in her rejection but in this eloquent explanation as to why this is her answer, and in the finality of her conviction. it is delicious. they could have this scene anywhere, in this darkened staircase for its the tudors copycat setting in this lithuanian palace, or on a fucking greenscreen, and it would still be just as powerful if these were its actors.

(im realizing that if anyone who is reading this hasn't watched they're going to think i'm an insane person based on this description... so hopefully the actual beats of the scene below will reveal what i mean, lol:

there's also a compelling subversion of (modern) expectation here, because...the only different thing in this equation is the status of the man asking to love her, asking why love is 'not enough'. for most 16c women of anne's status, no, 'love' wasn't enough. security was preferred. and, actually, it's very anachronistic how much this opinion is villianized (see, tobg:

...when it's like...yeah, a man's love was considered worthless. if it wasn't, they wouldn't have considered betrothal contracts to be a necessary evil!). it's very easy for him to say that she would 'want for nothing' (households, jewels, etc, one assumes), and she isn't allowing his ease: she's contradicting him, and pointing out that there is little security in the position of royal mistress.

herein lies the constant counterfactual moralistic tutting: anne 'should've just become a mistress,' always paired with 'this would, in the end, have made her 'safer.'' and it would have, as we know (not anne), but it would also, as she points out here, likely lead into her being a nonentity (a voice on the pillow, a woman hiding underneath the sheets and behind the bed curtains, an ornament for dancing), and she didn't want to be one: she wanted to be partner and collaborator of her future husband, not the diversion and darling of someone else's.

tl;dr the scene is powerful because she feels bad for him (she feels bad for herself, too, but she only allows him to see the former:

[markdmilton]

Introduction to Sacrificial

I am often fond of building from worlds that already exist, worlds people more eloquent than I create. In this case, however, I am staring into a precipice of that exact point. First and foremost, the world is primarily founded by Ms. Suzanne Collins. I will not take credit where credit is not due. She created the building blocks of this world. I am someone who believes we can build on others’ ideas, but they retain the world they created. They deserve the credit and money owed to them for being the cornerstone of other great ideas. Thus, literature is meant to be shared and built upon tastefully. I have created a world that takes her world, asks several questions, changes some thoughts, looks at different consequences of specific actions, and maps different yet similar ideals. I set out to answer a new question that created several others. It also takes several twists and turns, creating a new universe derived and started by hers.

Mavery won the Tournament (mainly like the Hunger Games) when she was 15, but during her Champion’s ride (mostly like the Victor’s Tour), she was killed in a train explosion. Thus creating turmoil throughout the Regions (19 of them instead of the 12 Districts). However, because of her death, this turmoil is quickly extinguished. And everything returns to the status quo everyone had become accustomed to. The people that control the Tournament decided to do something different and select people between 18 and 35. While everyone is upset about this, one person seems to be more upset than most: Mavery. She has been alive all this time, living somewhat peacefully, far from any eyes or belief of being something she may not be, something she never saw herself as. She has found life within her very own death. However, with these new rules, she must enter once more to protect people who do not care about her and people who have long stopped mourning for her, if they ever did. Reuniting with people she never thought she would see again, people who helped her the last time. She must now ask herself if it is all worth it again. Do they open their arms to their fallen hero? Do they reject her coming home? Will she be able to fix a mess she herself unwillingly created? Does she even want to?

Many more questions will come up and force themselves to be answered in this version of a story where our favorite YA heroes fail before they even start.

While this idea works in word form, I believe it works best in word form and screen form coming out simultaneously. I have always found myself drawn to writing in the first person, and that is limited to how that one person sees the world. It is great to really see that narrow perspective, the world she sees, but the outer world should also be seen and spun perfectly together, specifically in a story where the outer world might be even more critical. They should give two perspectives congruently; right now, you only get one perspective: the main character’s perspective, which is very narrow but still gives a great view of the world. 

This idea flows to the fact several people from The Hunger Games specifically, but also other YA movies from the 2000s and early 2010s, should come back for the movies, to both play with an alternate reality and that of a memory of what happened if they succeeded only to see them fail the first time around. As millennials, we never got our Hogwarts letters, or sent to summer camps for children of gods, or even volunteered as tributes for our siblings because, of course, we all love and admire our siblings enough we would, for sure, risk our lives for them, but no they cannot have the last cookie, that’s going too far.

This is our chance to see what happens if those heroes fail, and we and they must go through it all again. Let us see our adventures in a new light. Let us see if they could handle everything in this new light. Would our heroes be what we saw them as before? Or do they disappoint us now? Would the adventures still excite you?

I will include the casting I would cast, along with the story, so you can hopefully see my vision. As this is in book form, people are always allowed to cast their own head cannons and ignore how the writer sees certain things. There are some characters I do not have casted, so if there is no one casted for it, I will leave it blank, and I will hope your imaginations will run wild, just like mine has for this story. You may even have an excellent cast for it.

Thank you to everyone, both those who are reading this and love it and to those who created the world I am sidestepping and inhabiting—a special thanks to Suzanne Collins for being the mastermind behind it all.

I want to add one thing. Please accept this is a rough draft, and there might be things that change. I will update the previous chapters if the story has significant changes.

The last thing I hope is that everyone will love this as much as I do. I want to share this world (on an aside, if you really like this and want to help spread it so it can go towards people who can make this world a reality for all of us who want to see it become a reality, I won’t say no). Hopefully, something great will come out of it, but if not, I will just be thankful to share this world that has been so kindly shared with me. Please enjoy a true labor of love.

[beels-burger-babe]

The Façade of the Suitor - Pt. 2

***Wow! You guys are really digging this series! Thank you so much for your support 🥰🥰🥰 I don't get to share OCs often, so it's really reassuring to see you guys take to Harlow. She's a character, that's for sure 😅😅 Thanks for all the love! - B*** Summary: MC catches the eye of Lady Harlow, a higher demoness who has had a small feud with the brothers for centuries. She's determined to steal MC from them and keep MC under her wing. The brothers, however, are determined not to let that happen. Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

After a week had passed since the ball, Lucifer had dared to hope that maybe that had been the end of things and that Harlow would just leave him and you alone. But fate had never been on his side. A letter arrived in the mail, sealed with a horrifyingly familiar purple stamp and her nauseating fragrance. It was, of course, addressed to you.

Lucifer's nose wrinkled in distaste. He'd have to dispose of this before you ever caught sight of it. He had turned to do exactly that when he bumped into Satan and dropped the letter. Satan sighed and bent down to pick it up. "I thought that you of all people would be capable of watching where you're," he stopped short as he finally looked at the letter. Satan's jaw clenched as he looked back at Lucifer. "Why in Diavolo's name are you in contact with her again?" Lucifer sighed and tried to take the letter back, Satan stepped out of his reach. He glared at the angry demon. "Not that it's any of your business-" "Not my business?!" Satan snapped before Lucifer could finish his explanation. "She turned you against all of us and nearly tore this family a part and you don't think it's my business if you're in contact with that- that- that snake again?!"

Lucifer growled at the reminder of his past failure. "If I had a choice, I would wipe her foul existence from the face of this realm, but I can't. I loath that woman as much as you do. The letter isn't addressed to me. It's to MC."

Satan's eyes widened and quickly looked down at the letter, seeing your name scrawled in her disgustingly perfect cursive font. He dropped the letter as though it had burned him. "We can't let them see this. Harlow shouldn't even know MC exists! How the fuck did this happen?"

Lucifer picked up the letter, " The exchange program ball. Near the end of the evening, MC and I were relaxing near a wall and Harlow approached us." Satan looked at his brother as though he had two heads. "And you just let her?" This quickly earned the younger demon another glare. "We were at a public event where I was representing our House and Diavolo and MC was representing the human realm. There wasn't much I could do without causing a scene." Satan rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. "Of course! You'd let Harlow sink her claws into MC just so you can protect your reputation. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment." Beel stepped out of the kitchen and into the room at the sound of the yelling. "What's going on?" "Noth-" "Harlow's trying to get to MC." The "father and son" duo sneered at each other. Beel's eyes widened as his face paled. "Well, we aren't going to let her, right? We can stop her this time. Now we know her tricks. It won't be like last time?" he was staring directly at Lucifer. The eldest felt his stomach twist and churn guiltily at the desperation in Beel's stare. They all knew from experience just how cunning and manipulative Harlow could be. She had targeted Lucifer specifically, and because he let down his guard, his whole family soon became infected by the demoness venom. He refused to let the same happen to you. Lucifer turned on his heel and threw the letter into the fireplace. The three brothers watched as it slowly was consumed by the flames and turned to ash. "Tell the others about what happened. There's no doubt that Harlow will attempt to reach MC again. It's our duty to stop that from happening," Lucifer spoke up. Beel nodded right away before taking off to obey the command. Satan sighed and glanced at Lucifer, "You know this won't stop her. She'll figure out a way to get to MC." Lucifer continued watching the flames. The fire's glow reflecting in his obsidian eyes like a memory flickering in the darkness. "Maybe so, but at the very least it will give us time to come up with a plan on what to do when she does." In the end, Satan had been right. The brothers worked tirelessly together to intercept any letters, bouquets, or baskets that had been sent for you. Asmo kept a collection of the bouquets and gifts in his room, and simply told you that they were objects of admiration from his fans. You had walked in on Beel shuffling through the mail one day, and he had managed to fluster out an excuse before hurrying out of the room and shoving the most recent letter into his mouth. Mammon became even clingier than usual and was always by your side. Although he was physically with you, his mind and eyes were always looking around you for any signs of the demoness that he was trying to avoid. Satan had worked with Solomon to put an enchantment on the House's gates that caused anything that had recently touched Harlow's hands to be incinerated as it passed through the gate. Levi had been forcing you to watch the top ten anime betrayals and any anime with a manipulative or toxic antagonist in hopes that it would help you recognize them in Harlow if she ever got to you and that you would do the right thing and choose your real best friend him (and I suppose the others as well). Belphegor would purposefully fall asleep on you as much as possible to prevent you from leaving the House and therefore heightening the risk of Harlow coming to meet you personally. Lucifer had begun to do his own research on Harlow, once more, and was looking back on his own past experiences with the demoness to gain wisdom on how to outwit her. Despite all of their efforts, it wasn't enough. You came down to breakfast, looking complexed but intrigued as you held a piece of paper with a dreadfully purple broken seal on the top. The brothers froze as Harlow's familiar perfume reached their noses. Levi swallowed his food as he looked at you nervously. "M-MC, what...what do you have there?" You blinked up at them and held up the paper. "It's a letter from

Lady Harlow. A bat flew through my window this morning with this attached to its foot. According to the letter, she's tried more normal means of communication, but had no luck. Hmm, I wonder why?" you pondered out loud as you continued reading the letter. The brothers exchanged worried looks. Lucifer straightened his posture. "What else does it say?" You barely looked over at him as you responded. "Oh, she has invited me to a private luncheon at her manor. Apparently, she'd like to get to know me better." Your words caused everyone at the table to stiffen. "Seems suspicious to me," Belphie stated as he rested his head on your shoulder. "You shouldn't go. She's probably planning to kill you or something but is just pretending to be nice to get you to let your guard down." You smirked down at him. "Hmmm, sounds familiar," despite your joking tone, you noticed the room tense and Belphie looked away in shame. You frowned and placed a hand on his arm. "I...I was joking, Belphie. You know I've forgiven you for that. You've proved that you've changed. We're okay," you looked around at the others, finally picking up on the tension in the room. "What's going on? Why is everyone acting so weird?" Satan sighed and met your eyes. "Harlow is the Lady of Manipulation. She thrives off of playing with others' emotions and desires to get her own twisted wants." "She's dangerous," Lucifer added. You were shocked to see that he was seemingly unable to meet your eyes. Instead, he stared at his plate as though lost in a memory. "She's incredibly skilled at what she does and will worm her way into your thoughts before you're even aware of what's happening. She's cunning and sly," he finally lifted his head to look at you. You shivered at the intense urgency and regret in his gaze. "Lady Harlow is not one that you should give even a second of your time to. If you give her even a single inch, she will take a mile." You frowned and looked back at the letter. It was filled with so many kind words and eloquent phrasing. She had seemed nice enough at the ball, and she went through all this trouble just to send you an invitation. "Thank you for the warning," you spoke sincerely as you looked at the others. "I'll be sure to keep your words in mind and be careful." Mammon scoffed and crossed his arms. "You make it sound as if you're going." "I am." The room burst into a mix of angry proclamations, commands that you were not going, and pleas for you to listen to them. You smiled sympathetically at the brothers. "I know you're worried, but it would be extremely rude to reject a personal invitation like this from a noble, especially after all the effort she went through to have it delivered. I should at least go to see what she wants. I'll have my D.D.D. on me and you can guys can ask me all the questions you want as soon as I get back." Lucifer's eyes searched your expression in a mix of frustration and desperation. "MC did you not hear a single word I just said? One visit is all she'll need. I really must urge you not-" "Lucifer stop," the room fell silent as Lucifer's mouth snapped shut. His gaze hardened at your use of a command. You sighed and ran a hand over your face. "I'm sorry, but this isn't your choice. I know you seem to have...something going on with Harlow, and I will take caution from your words during my visit. But I'm sure I'll be fine. I live with and have befriended seven of the most powerful demons in the Devildom. What's a silly noblewoman going to do to me?" You gently lifted Belphie's head off of you and rose. "I should get ready for the school day. I'm sorry guys. I'll see you all later." As you left, a small piece of hope from within the brothers left with you. Lucifer snarled and downed a glass of wine. "Right," he said bitterly and looked over at Satan, "onto plan c."

*** I hope you guys enjoyed it! I promise you will find out exactly what went down between Harlow and the brothers later on. But for now, let the games begin 😈 Thanks again for all the support and love you've all been giving this series!***

Taglist: @cosmixbun @sufzku @simeonspebble @lovevictoire @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @peachyeevee13 @otome-scribbles @azureusmoonie @poly-bi-mf

[myherowritings]

so in love

— “I’m so in love with them, I don’t know what to do.” Requested by @apollochjld​. 

pairing: iwaizumi hajime x reader word count: 1.8k genre: fluff, timeskip iwa in socal

a/n: wow writing this made me wanna be in love; someone make me fall in love with them pls,, jkjk...unless FHDJKFD kidding,, i hope u enjoy reading!! [p.s. i was listening to “i love you 3000 ii” while writing if you wanna match the vibes hehe] xx sof

「 hq masterlist 」

Iwaizumi had been in love approximately once before.

It was in high school when he dated a girl who made his heart race and face flush. She was quiet and dependable, cheerful and kind. Although it didn’t last after he left for university in the States, he enjoyed the relationship while it lasted. It was sweet, it was comfortable. It was what he needed at the time.

But what he felt then paled in comparison when he thought of you. If she made his heart race, you made it soar. 

Iwaizumi found himself thinking about you at the most random times of day—wondering what you were doing, wishing he could be doing those things with you… Whenever his phone buzzed, he would hope it was a message from you. And he’d be embarrassingly disappointed if it wasn’t. 

Since the two of you started dating, you had taken over most of his mind. Things he once thought of as ridiculously mundane now reminded him of you. (How could fuzzy blankets and Christmas lights even conjure up the image of one specific person? He wasn’t sure. But when he saw them, he smiled while thinking of you cuddling him during the colder seasons.)

He had never felt this strongly about someone and it almost scared him how deep his feelings ran.

A mixture of anxiousness and excitement filled his stomach at the realization and he decided to call his best friend for advice. Though Oikawa could be an ass, he was one of the two only people Iwaizumi felt comfortable enough to confide in about everything (the other person being you, but he couldn’t exactly go to you to ask for advice about you). 

“Oi, Shittykawa, you asleep already?”

There was a mocking sigh on the other side of the line. “Iwa-chan,” he chided, “haven’t you learned by now that’s not the proper way to greet someone?” 

He grunted.

“Fine then,” Oikawa pouted. “To answer your question, no, I’m not asleep yet. Did you need something?” 

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi was silent for a while, thinking of how to phrase his feelings. “I… Y/N…” 

“What about Y/N?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Let me guess— You finally acknowledged you’re madly in love with them and you need help coping with the fact you’ve realized your emotional range is now bigger than a baby carrot?” 

Iwaizumi blinked. How—? 

Apparently his pause was enough for Oikawa to figure out he was right. “Holy shit. I actually got it?” He cheered and Iwaizumi could picture him dancing around the room smugly. “That’s great, Iwa-chan!”

He chuckled at his friend’s enthusiasm, Oikawa’s reaction surprisingly helping soothe his nerves. Maybe it wasn’t abnormal to have these feelings? But then again, Oikawa didn’t know just how intense these feelings were. 

“Is it weird?” Iwaizumi found himself asking. “It feels weird. It’s like… I’m so in love with them, I don’t know what to do.” 

That was the first time he had ever told himself he was in love with you out loud. Hearing it with his own two ears made his stomach clench and his palms get clammy. When he pictured his future in five years, he couldn’t imagine one where you weren’t there. He wanted to see your smile, hear your laugh, be there for you when you cried. He just wanted you. And he hoped you wanted him too.

“Did you just realize that?”

“Yeah. Just earlier.”

“Hmm. And have you told them yet?” 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Then why are you still on call with me?!” Oikawa chided. “You should be driving to Y/N and getting ready to tell them how much you love them like a gushy fool in love.” 

Iwaizumi winced at Oikawa’s blunt wording. The thought was weird. The thought was uncomfortable. He’d never been a guy who was particularly in touch with his emotions. He could rarely admit his feelings to himself— And it was even more uncommon to share those feelings with someone else. That required vulnerability and trust. 

It was terrifying. 

But for you, it was worth it. 

“Go get your beauty sleep now, Assykawa,” he said, grabbing his keys and getting ready to hang up. He shrugged on a sweater and headed out the door, heart almost bursting from nerves.

“Not that I need it,” Oikawa huffed haughtily, and Iwaizumi could just picture him flipping his hair to the side. “But I will. You go tell Y/N how you feel now.”

“I will.” He started his car. “And Oikawa…?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.” 

Oikawa laughed dismissively. “Don’t mention it, Iwa-chan. It’s my duty to help ugly, hopeless losers who somehow managed to make someone beautiful and kind-hearted love them back.”

“Fuck you too, Trashykawa.” 

And with that, Iwaizumi ended the call with an amused eye roll. He gripped his steering wheel in determination as he let out a deep sigh, driving over to your apartment. In hindsight, maybe he should’ve given you a text before showing up unannounced, but in this moment, his thoughts were so occupied, being rational didn’t end up crossing his mind. It wasn’t uncommon for you to surprise him with an impromptu visit and he would always welcome it, but randomly dropping by with no plan had never been his style. 

He hoped it wouldn’t bother you.

Iwaizumi was so lost in his worries, he almost didn’t notice he was already parked in front of your complex and walking towards your door in minutes’ time. Slowly, he found his knuckles rapping on your door before his brain could rethink his decision and drive back home.

The front door cracked open and he heard a cute little surprised noise escape your lips.

“Hajime?” you said curiously, though your eyes lit up as you invited him in. “Did I miss a text from you? I didn’t know you were coming over tonight.” 

He scratched the back of his neck, face suddenly heating up in embarrassment. A heads up would have been the courteous thing to do. What if you were busy? Or what if you didn’t want to see him at the moment? The second thought made his stomach drop.

“Not that I mind though!” you quickly amended, smoothing out the furrow between his brows with your thumb and placing a soft kiss on the lips. Iwaizumi smiled into the kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into a hug as his worries melted away. “My day always gets better when I see you.”

His fingers ran down your spine and planted his lips on the top of your head before pulling away. Smiling, you led him to the couch where you leaned into his touch. 

“Did you have something you needed? Or did you just want to hang?” 

“I just wanted to see you.”

You smiled, a shy look suddenly befalling your face as you drew circles atop Iwaizumi’s thigh. “Yeah? I was actually just thinking of you when you showed up. I thought I might’ve been daydreaming, but I guess it was just a wish come true.”

He let out a short chuckle at your sentimental words, the blush on his cheeks betraying his true pleasure at hearing them. “I can never think of anything to wish for when you’re around. It feels like I already have everything I could want when I’m with you.” 

The repetitive, gentle movements of your finger on his thigh halted as your eyes widened. “Really?” 

His first instinct was to take back what he said and distance himself. A nagging part of him told him that he said too much and shouldn’t have been so forward. But Iwaizumi swallowed his insecurities and the discomfort he felt from being vulnerable and nodded. 

“Yeah.” His voice was gruff. “Really.”

Taking note of the serious tone he spoke in, you straightened up on the sofa, angling your body so you could see his expression directly. 

“I know we’ve only been together for a few months, but I just...had to tell you that I’m in love with you. And it feels so strange to say,” he admitted, cheeks blazing red. He couldn’t even manage to bring his gaze directly to your eyes or he knew he’d grow too embarrassed to continue on without stumbling. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and, at this point, I don’t know if I’d ever feel this way about anyone else. And this in no way means you have to say you feel the same already. I just thought I should let you know how much you mean to me.”

When he finally met your eyes, he saw they were filled with unshed tears, making your irises look like they were shining. You looked up at him with such an endearing look on you, as if Iwaizumi promised he hung up all the stars in the galaxy by hand just for you. 

“I love you so much— No, I’m very much in love with you too, Hajime,” you responded, sounding overjoyed as you threw your arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck while he planted a kiss on your temple. “I’m so relieved you said something now because if you hadn’t, I might’ve just blurted it out one random day.”

He snorted, teasing. “Like I did just now, you mean?”

“Well, yes, but probably not as eloquently,” you laughed. “You know, I never understood movies or shows that talked about true love or finding someone you’d actually want to spend your life with. That concept seemed so foreign to me, or like it was something so far out of reach… Until I met you.”

Spend your life with? His heart soared out of his chest at your words. He felt like he could touch the sky if he tried. 

“And it sounds so cheesy to say that!” you whined, burying your head in your hands. Iwaizumi chuckled at how cute you were as you peered through your fingers. “But though it’s cheesy, it really is the truth.” 

He hummed. “Sometimes cheesy is good.”

“Mhm.” You nodded in agreement. “I guess loving someone enough to want to be this cheesy with them is something special in itself. Because I could never imagine having moments like this with someone other than you.” 

“I couldn’t imagine this—being here, feeling this way—with anyone else either.” Iwaizumi laced his fingers through yours, stroking your thumb so softly, it was light enough to leave a ticklish tingle. “And I wouldn’t want to.” 

“Then I guess we have no choice but to make more of these cheesy memories together.” 

Iwaizumi leaned in to place his lips on yours, the both of you smiling into the chaste kiss. Even the smallest touches could light a spark within him that he never wanted to die out. 

Making memories didn’t seem so hard. Especially when they were with you. “I think we can manage that just fine.” 

[atherix]

Hello hi good evening, I am having some Thoughts and Feelings about the latest midnight chapter and I thought I would share.

First of all: aaaah adkjsahkjahdasjkhd

With that out of the way, some more coherent thoughts.

I love the way the cultural/class differences between Grian and Scar are highlighted in the camping conversation. Just a really good character moment for both of them. And also? Scar knowing about the greenhouse project? Scar knowing specifically because Grian just asked him about his theoretical dream greenhouse? I love them all dearly, they are all gay disasters <3

Scar being like *talks about that time he was ready to sacrifice everything so his son could get home safe* *talks about the times he took his son camping so they could bond* *talks about how he taught himself to cook for his son* and he still doesn't think he compares to his own father? My dude. Scar. I love him so much but pls.

*Taking notes on all of the new fae lore*

I love the sentence "They glimmer with Fairy and firelight, and for a moment Grian isn’t sure if the golden glow is reflection or magic." It's so evocative and such a good use of the third person pov. There's several other examples of that I could mention, this one was just my favourite. I stopped to read it out loud several times over.

Really enjoying how Grian is once again surprised Scar treats him differently now that they're together. Man is really like "wait there's boyfriend in this boyfriend???" Love that for him 😂

Oh and speaking of Grian. Really eyeing the way he always reacts so strongly to fairy lights. It is very Interesting. I mean, definitely fits his character, but I am also always a little suspicious of you and your amazing foreshadowing.

I love love love fae characters being deceptive and cunning and uncanny, and anything that shines a light on how disturbing their suggestion magic can be, so I was eating this whole thing up. Scar getting to be cool and powerful, while the story also makes it very clear that he is still holding back because some things are Too Far. And the fact that he can still be pushed to do it? Yes, amazing, stunning.

On that note, I am also encouraging your writing the Scar's adventure aside, btw. I love how you write Scar doing magic, and how you handle his character in those moments. It's always so evocative.

Lastly? I adore those moments where you can tell that Mumbo and Grian are slowly going from being Tubbo's dad's boyfriends to being his stepdads. The way he complains about them flirting the same way he complains about Scar flirting with them? Good (but also poor kid 😂).

In conclusion: I am once again asking everyone to go and read Midnight.

hgdfjkgfjk <3 I love to hear thoughts and feelings even if I take forever to get to answering them <3

beautiful, eloquent, couldn't say it better myself <3

I absolutely love contrasts, it's so fun to write about them <3 Especially since Scar and Grian were raised in similar yet extremely different environments and just hjgfdhjk The ONLY time Scar isn't oblivious to something is when Grian hopes he will be LMAO. Flirt with him for a couple months and the man won't think "oh gee I think maybe they have feelings for me" but ask him about his theoretical dream greenhouse and "Ah I see what they are doing here" hfdjh

Scar loves his father more than he has ever loved himself </3 He can't see that he is repeating the cycle just as good a father as his was </3

I am always happy to toss out Fae lore. I have a couple more Fae lore points that will come up in the next few stories 👀 Including a Fae story hehe-

I am a poetic bitch and I LOVE writing lines like that <3 I have been known in other fandoms to write lines that wham people so I'm glad to see I can continue that here hehe-

"Wait there's boyfriend in this boyfriend??" WHEEZE jkfgdsjkfgjhsd I cackled at this omg but it's so true. Grian really over here forgetting for a whole minute that Scar will actually respond to him flirting/his advances now because he's allowed to lmaoooj hjkfd

:) Well I mean it DID lead him to getting kidnapped before so uh :)

Hehehe when you really think about it, the suggestion magic all Fae have.... is really quite disturbing. It was used to kidnap people in the past, used to lead people deeper into the woods to never be seen again.... and I am excited that I get to explore the more disturbing and less sorcery-feeling side of Scar's magic now <3 I mean certainly it doesn't mean something that NOW he's started letting his more Fae-ish side take precedence... hmhm I love him <3 something something humanity and human isn't the same something something it's not the how it's the why something something-

hehe how could I not write this :) So he doesn't cast his magic like he usually would in this little fic, he is 100% using Fae tactic here instead of his typical Fae-Sorcery mix, buuuut... hehe-

Stitch and I made a joke about the moment Tubbo realizes he has three dads, not one, but I can't share it because it is MAJOR spoilers. But :) Just know that Tubbo is the last person to realize LMAO but I am having so much fun writing the evolution of their relationship hjkfdg

hhh <3<3<3

[haztory]

OK BUT THAT'S ME BEING AN IDIOT HAHAHHAHAHAHAHA drabble/sfw JAHAHHAHAHAHAH DAMN

““You better catch that fucking bouquet, babe. Our relationship is on the line!” + “You wanna go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?” with Bokuto for the loveliest Clara! from my writing event that is now closed!

warnings: adult langauge and that’s it!

a/n: i answered her previous ask for the quotes so i’m just posting the drabble here! thank you for your patience my love!!! i hope you like it <33333

bokuto koutarou x f!reader; (fluff, all the fluff and wedding shenanigans)

Bokuto loves weddings. They’re truly his weak spot. Ask him to attend and he’s there an hour early, regardless of whether you’re his best friend or his cousin twice removed. The man lives for a wedding.

He loves the sentimentality of the ceremony that never fails to make him teary-eyed and oppositely, he loves the liveliness of the reception, half tempted every time to push the DJ aside and take over the mixing of music with a drink in his hand and a sloppy yell. He’s a vivacious mess of mixed moods and energy, but truthfully, he’s the best date anyone could ever ask for.

The best attendee too, considering almost everyone wants him to be a groomsman. He usually can never say no, but this time, it wasn’t even a question; Especially not for Hinata.

But above all, he loves that every wedding he attends grants him ample opportunity to enter into the sanctity of his fantasies and imagine his own.

“Did ya see him up there?!” Atsumu barks with a hard laugh, one hand clutching his whiskey and another his suit-clad chest, “He was cryin’ more than the groom!”

Met with the boastful laughs of his fellow team members, all gathered in a scattered circle by the bar, Bokuto jokingly pushes the blond on his left with a loud scoff and a faux-defense tone.

“I held it in!”

 “I heard you sniffling when Sho finally entered the venue,” Sakusa says, pointing a finger at Bokuto with the same hand that held his own alcoholic drink, “Don’t lie.”

 The group erupts into even more scattered laughter, that of which Bokuto finally joins in. His suit jacket has long since been abandoned, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as he holds his hands up in surrender, “What can I say? I love weddings!”

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, Meian joyfully says from beside him, “At least we’ll know now how you’ll be at your own.” His eyes waggle in accompaniment and Bokuto feels his cheeks start to ache from the intensity of his smile. 

“We’ll bring extra tissues!”

Flustered to the core, Bokuto dips his head in abnormal shyness— the likes of which have the entirety of his friend group leaning forward in curiosity, their own interested smiles painted on their faces.

Fascinating as it may be to see the loud and boisterous wing spiker reduced to flushed cheeks at the mention of marriage, it doesn’t take much to figure out why; Even if they didn’t know him as well as they did, it was more than clear as to the reason when Bokuto’s own gaze tries to covertly dart to the side. That of which they all notice and blatantly follow. 

Stood beside the table of the bride, there you stood in all of your sheer elegance laughing with a number of the bridesmaids, blissfully unaware of a loving gaze that was drawn much too heavily to your turned figure. Focused on the way your dress shimmers in the dim lighting and the way you speak amongst the other guests, Bokuto feels locked in the trace of your magnanimous presence. Shyness dissipating quickly and replaced with the overwhelming flutter in his stomach.

And, not for the first time this night, he wonders briefly what it would be like if it were you walking down the aisle; If instead of the sheer, shimmery dress that adorned you beautifully, you were wearing a white one.

As he watched with exuberant joy as one of his closest friends married the one he loved, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if this were his wedding. If it were you walking down the aisle to the ethereal orchestra with your closest friends and family in attendance, all watching with eager rapture at your astounding beauty as he surely would be. But none of them, not a single one of them could ever compare to the intensity of his own stupefied gaze.

He’s imagined the scenario too often, felt tears prick the corner of his eyes every time, and he grows more excited each time he’s fantasized. But nothing gives him more butterflies than the thought of interlocking his hand with yours, placing his ring of eternal promise on your third finger, and avidly vow forever with you.

It’s not like he needs a wedding to promise that; He sees his future every time he looks at you—even if you have your back turned to him and are chatting away unsuspectingly with the fellow attendees.

 But a wedding would be nice, he thinks.

“That’s if he can get married,” Atsumu mutters into his glass cup and takes a long drink of his whiskey.

Bokuto, interrupted from his loving stare at the back of your head, snaps his own head to the blond with the speed to break necks. Eyebrows furrowed, fantasy ruined, and full offense coating his syllables, he exclaims, “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, Atsumu leans one elbow on the surface of the bar counter and swirls his drink around, “Ya keep sayin’ yer gonna do it, but how long’s it been? Seven, eight months? If you haven’t done it yet, yer not ever gonna.”

A quick flash of sternness settles into the eyes of their captain, his arm still wrapped around the shoulders of the slowly deflating wing spiker. “He’ll do it when he’s ready, Atsumu. There’s no need to rush something like that.”

Rolling his eyes, Sakusa chimes in from across the three men. Pointing his stare at Koutarou, who resembles a kicked puppy at this point, he sighs. Not one to expel too much effort in emotional comfort, he decides this one is worthy of some kind of attempt. Albeit a minimal one. 

 “Don’t listen to this idiot, Koutarou.”

“‘m jus’ sayin’. She won’t wait for long, man,” Atsumu shrugs his shoulders again, eyes flitting to his right. Out of the corner, Koutarou deflates even more— shoulders slumped and the corners of his mouth downturned noticeably. He huffs out a quiet laugh through his nose.

Step one, complete.

“Since when were you such an expert in what women want?” Sakusa snorts.

“I have experience, thank you very much!” 

“That’s hard to believe.”

Sticking his tongue out at Sakusa, he pointedly ignores the insult to his knowledge of the feminine desires and turns his attention to the subject matter at hand.

Atsumu knows what women, having dated quite a few in his years. More specifically, he knew what you want, considering one drunk evening you had wondered aloud— quite heartachingly in your alcoholic daze, he might add— if the boisterous wing spiker even wanted to marry you. Bokuto, in your words verbatim—

“He just always gets fidgety when I bring it up and I jus’ dunno if he even likes me anymore cause yesterday, he said that my dinner was just ‘okay’ when he always says that he really loves it. Do you know how that made me feel? How could he even want to marry me when I make just ‘okay’ food? Do you know how much he eats? How can he survive!”

And as the ever so loyal friend that Atsumu considers himself to be, who is never one to ever meddle in the business of others, decided it was only right of him to solve this slight problem himself.

By taunting Bokuto, of course. 

If only to make him take matters into his own hands and finally do what everyone has been waiting for. What he knew the poor man has been dying to do forever, considering he never shuts up about you.

And also, to finally have you stop drunk texting him, no matter how endearing he may find them to be.

“So,” Atsumu sings once more, ignoring the look of exasperation on Meian’s face and instead, zoning in on the face of despair before him, “what are ya waiting for?”

In his stupefied stare at the blond beside him, Bokuto finds his gaze once more being drawn back to your turned figure that stands right in his line of sight. Wearing that pretty dress that you face timed him to get his opinion on, smelling of sweet lavender and jasmine— his favorite perfume of yours— and the lip gloss that you begged him not to mess up. He didn’t listen, and truthfully, you hardly minded all that much.

What is he waiting for? He knows what he wants, so why hasn’t he done it yet?

What if you’re growing tired of how long he’s been waiting? What if you’re unhappy that your relationship hasn’t progressed to the next stage? Oh god, what if--

His mouth opens then closes, then opens once again, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I… I don’t know.”

“Do ya want to marry her?”

Bokuto nods eagerly, as though through the action alone he could dispel of any lingering doubt that ever had the audacity to pervade his thoughts, “Of course! I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

“Ya think she’s gonna say ‘no’?”

Looking at his two other teammates, who each have their own curiosities piqued at the line of questioning, he shakes his head with finality.

“No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Then ya just need a push!” Placing his drink on the counter, Atsumu slaps his hand on the man’s shoulder, “How about this: If yer girl catches the bouquet, ya rip the band-aid and ya ask her—”

Stepping in once more, Meian chimes, “Don’t push him to do something he’s not ready for—”

“I ain’t pushin’! He’s got the ring already, right?”

“You do?” All eyes fall onto Bokuto, who stares with widened innocent stare at each of them. He quickly shoves his hand into his pocket, pulling out his fist to reveal a velvet box in his hand. 

“I’ve been carrying it with me every day for the past six months. I just didn’t know if I should do it.”

Three pairs of eyes stare blankly at the man before them. Sharing a quick look at one another, the message is translated seamlessly between each of them and voiced eloquently by Meian himself. Ever the efficient captain.

“Holy shit.”

“My friend,” Atsumu laughs, squeezing his hand on the broad shoulder of his closest friend. His smile, innocent enough to the passing gaze, holds that twinge of mischief that Bokuto has come to know rather intimately; A taunting smile that has been directed his way one too many times that usually never ends well.

“I dare ya to propose to yer girl if she catches that bouquet. If yer really a man, that is.”

Bokuto’s eye twitches, his features narrowed at the utterance of the dare, and that’s how Atsumu knows he’s got him in the bag. It has his own smile widening even further, as Bokuto’s face scrunches in suspicion, knowing full well that he could never resist a dare.

With the single word alone, long gone is the hesitancy and doubt that plagued the man just a moment before, and instead stands a man tall in his ushering of competition. A man who thrives off the challenge, especially wherever his teammate presented one. It’s almost startling how quickly he sheds his mopey behavior and embraces his natural presence, which overwhelms and overpowers everyone around them. 

Step two, done.

“And if she doesn’t?” Bokuto asks, smugness filtering his words as he entertains the notion— silently accepts the provocation laid before him and drastically alters himself in order to successfully combat it. 

In order to win.

Spotting the glint of devilry that grows in strength in the narrowing of Bokuto’s eyes, Atsumu smirks and meets it with one of his own. He’s got him, hook, line, and sinker.

“Ya break up.”

Bokuto reels backward physically, shaken from the competitive trance and staring at the man in grotesque shock. The kind that almost borders anger and offense. Huffing a breath through his nose, he takes a step forward, away from the present comfort of Meian and almost in accusation.

“Are you trying to ruin my life, blondie? You trying to go toe to toe with me, pretty boy?”

Atsumu laughs, holding his hands up in defense, “I’m tryna get ya married, big guy!” Shoving his hands into his pockets, hardly phased by the proximity in which the large man has entrenched onto his space, he shrugs once more, “That is… if yer man enough to take it.”

“Deal,” Bokuto says without hesitation, both incredibly and not at all to the surprise of the other two men who have been silently watching from the sidelines. Like a sudden reset, the tension that resided stiffly in the shoulders of Bokuto rescinds, and replaced is the confident, joyous man. 

A man who looks as though he’s won easy money and then some. 

Smiling widely, Bokuto turns in his place and begins a bold strut away from his friends. In the direction of his beloved, “Excuuuse me, gentlemen. I’m going to go teach my lady how to catch a bouquet.”

Meian and Kiyoomi step to the side, allowing enough space for Bokuto to walk through with the hint of laughter in their small smiles. 

Spinning on his heel and pointing his thumb at his chest, Bokuto exclaims proudly, “This time tomorrow, I will be a married man!”

“One wedding at a time, Kou.” Meian laughs at the retreating man, who is beaming from head to toe.

“Better train ‘er good, big guy! Or else I might be the next one to propose to her!” Atsumu calls out as Bokuto gets closer and closer towards your turned figure.

“I’ll kill you!” He calls back, hearing the echoing laughter diminish as he finally steps beside you.

Turning from the conversation with one of the bridesmaids to the new presence, you shine beautifully upon recognizing who it is, and Bokuto feels his resolve grow almost stronger.

“Hi baby,” You coo, instinctually placing your hand into his and leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek when he quickly presents it to you, “Did you have fun with the boys?”

Wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you closer, he places his own kiss on your cheek, humming against the surface of the skin yet making no move to part from you. “Mhmm. Just missed you.”

You laugh, rubbing your hand on his arm, “You were only gone for a couple minutes, Kou.”

Trailing his lips downward, he nuzzles himself into your neck, inhaling deeply. Lavender and jasmine. His favorite scent.

The one he wants to smell for the rest of his life.

“Ten minutes is too long.”

If possible, he manages to pull you even tighter against him. Two strong arms wrapping around you, pulling your chest into his and squeezing you tightly. Lovingly and entirely too comforting. Home.

You return the embrace eagerly, holding him to you equally as tight, “You’re right. It was starting to get boring without you.”

His hand, warm and large against the small of your back, rubs the surface up and down before he pulls back slightly, if only to look at your face in its entirety and the lip gloss you have unfortunately reapplied.

“You’re gonna do the bouquet toss, right?”

You raise an eyebrow, “I usually do. Why?”

He glances to the side, avoiding your inquiring stare. He raises a hand from your waist, rubbing the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile, “Maybe we should go outside, and I can throw a couple of rocks at you. Just to practice your catching skills.”

“Kou— “

“Can’t have anyone disrespecting you on the floor, can we? We gotta let everyone know you’re a winner! Cause you’re my girl, and whoever disrespects you, disrespects me! You know? So, you better catch that fucking bouquet. I mean, our relationship is on the line, here!”

“Koutarou—” From the tone in which you say his name, he knows he’s not making any sense. You’re confused, incredibly so, and he can’t blame you. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know what he’s saying, only that he has a goal, and he has to make you see it without revealing himself entirely.

 “I mean, only if you want to. It just… means a lot to me, and I want you to say yes, because I love you. And if you win, I win in a lot of ways. And I want to win with you, for the rest of our lives.”

Realizing almost entirely too late that he was talking with duplicity that you have most certainly caught on towards, he decides there is a good place to stop talking entirely. Oh god, he’s such an idiot. What was he thinking? He can never hide anything from you!

If you couldn’t tell from the way he was talking in metaphors, you could most definitely see it from the way in which sweat beads at the top of his forehead.

Your eyes flicker from each of his, your warm palms cupping the sides of his face as you watch him with concern.

“Baby,” You breathe out, voice steady and calm as you watch his resolve slowly crack under your watchful stare, “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

He tried desperately to remind himself that he has a mission to accomplish, that there was a dare that Atsumu had challenged him to that he must complete—but it’s you. You’re the trump card, the weakness in his defense, his priority above all else. He could never hide anything from you because you would catch him in a quick minute. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to hide anything from you.

It was easy to hide the ring under the guise of waiting for the perfect time, a mental barrier that he could excuse as a good cause behind his hesitancy, but now that he’s accepted a dare that is forcing him to put his desires to immediate use, he can hardly wait for the bouquet toss to arrive.

He’s got to do it now. The time is right, it will never be more perfect. You look beautiful, you’re held tightly in his arms, and he’s never been more convinced of the fact that he loves you. Why has he even waited this long?

He has to do it—Atsumu be damned.

“Marry me.” 

**

Extra:

“You really think she’s going to catch it?” Meian asks Atsumu, as they both watch from afar the way Bokuto wraps himself around your body, nuzzling unabashedly into you.

Atsumu scoffs, “Hell no. Girl can’t catch fer shit.”

Furrowing his brows, Meian stares at the blond with intense confusion, “Then why did you—”

“Just had to plant the idea in his head. He’ll do it soon, jus’ give it a minute.”

The two watch you both silently, noticing the way in which Bokuto pulls away from you and starts to speak rapidly. Neither of them can hear what he’s saying, but they can see his lips moving. More importantly, can see the way in which you stare in perplexion.

Then finally, his lips stop moving and your hands cup his face. The setter and captain feel their breaths hitch and they both lean forward if only to see if they can read the wing spiker’s lips from where they stand.

They can. And from the way you respond with a laugh and an eager kiss, they know it worked.

Looking to Meian, Atsumu raises his brow with a smile, “Told ya!”

end note: to everyone who sent a request, it is on it’s way! i just don’t know the definition of a drabble and instead make 3k long fics, so that’s fun. 

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 1/8

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANAMI!! 🎂

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 1/8 WORD COUNT: 5,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | alcohol use | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, injury SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The final road before the bend that led to Gojo Manor stretched before Nanami, signaled by the consistent shield of the ancient cryptomeria trees that lined the road side. The forest was a momentary relief from the glare of the sun reflecting on the windshield of his silver Lexus. Such was the inconvenience of driving in the middle of a bright day when the sun was at its pedestal, making no room for shadows, no reprieve from the heat. He detested it.

A sigh escaped his lips. It’s supposed to be the beginning of autumn, he was thinking for the umpteenth time that day. He would really appreciate it if the Siberian winds would herald the actual beginning of the season. Yes, he thought. That would be nice.

The weather was, nevertheless, the least of his worries, and as he finally made the turn to the incongruously long gravel driveway of the estate, the real cause of his anxiety reared its head to the surface, presaged by the denser shadows of trees and the high gables of the colossal structure that housed the seat of the Gojo clan. It was supposed to be unfounded, his apprehension, or so he tried to convince himself since deciding to make an appearance earlier than expected. He couldn’t keep it at bay anymore when the emotion was mixed with hopeful anticipation. An odd combination, indeed.

He had no choice but to come, or rather, he wanted to come. It was for an important occasion anyway, Gojo Satoru and Utahime Iori’s wedding week specifically. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. If it was significant to two of the most important people in his life then the same applies where his views on the matter was concerned. After all, he greatly appreciated it that Gojo chose him as his best man, well one of them anyway. The man could never make up his mind if he tried so, breaking the traditional order of things, he has two “best men” – him and Geto Suguru.

Much to the groom-to-be’s disappointment, Nanami initially planned to show up a day before the ceremony itself. It was an added displeasure to the fact that Geto wasn’t going to show up until later that week as he was overseas for work. Gojo still probably was disappointed since Nanami did not exactly say anything about showing up earlier. But when he saw an opening in his jampacked schedule which was rare, he took the opportunity to take time off work. As annoying as Gojo was, he did not deserve to have two absent best men on his wedding week. Besides, a week away from the firm wouldn’t hurt, and he thought it was a good way to unwind before his big case.

If he would be able to unwind anyway.

The man had been sure of how he would manage through the occasion if he only spent a maximum of two days surrounded by crowds which were sure to be invited to the happy celebration. After all, nobody ever expected the young master of the Gojo Clan to ever be serious enough about anyone romantically, much less get married. Now that he had to stay for longer, giving chances to more occurrences of a variety of events, he wasn’t so certain. Anything could happen at Gojo Manor. Anything.

His optimism relied on that fact. Troublesome things usually happened with Gojo and Geto together, throw in the other members of the family and the other clans in the area, but Nanami was betting everything on this week.

A pair of cool, aqua eyes met his dark orbs the moment he stepped into the semi-outdoor ballroom of the opulent house. It was always like instinct, the way Nanami’s senses seem to heighten and hyper focus on one person, all else tuned out and seemingly nonexistent. Like always, without a hitch, he found you.

Alas. If he was questioning the reason for his hopefulness, that wasn’t the case anymore.

There you were, stood on the elevated corner by the refreshments table. You appeared like a celestial being walking among mortals, the halo of silvery white hair shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the room making you seem as if you did not exactly exist in the same realm as everyone else.

You were initially not paying attention to anyone despite your cousin, Miwa, chatting away beside you. But then, you leaned towards the latter when she whispered something, being equally conspiratorial by raising your champagne flute to your mouth. By the looks of it, prior to that, you have long tuned them out, Miwa and her friends, what with your poor attempt at pretending to pay attention. Nanami knew you have mastered the art of doing so since you were a child. It wasn't on purpose, or so you say. You were simply oblivious most of the time or you just didn't care. And you tended to only see and hear what you wanted.

At the moment, he was the object of your attention. He was sure of it, unable to help but to be much too aware of it, nerves pulled to their limits like piano strings conditioned to make sounds at the slightest of touch of its ebony and ivory keys. The feeling he had made you real, existing. He wasn’t imagining at all.

At times, he still could not believe that he watched you grow up to the person you are at present. The first time he knew of your existence was when Gojo invited him and some of their other friends to that very house in middle school. You were just as remarkable as a child as you are as a grown woman, much too quick-witted and eloquent at six even as your nanny carried you astride her hip, looking very much like a female infant version of Gojo. The bright blue eyes you shared with the male shone with the same intelligence he possessed, probably more, even without doing or saying anything. It just emanated from the two of you even if Gojo behaved like an utter idiot at times.

You shifted your line of vision to Miwa who was inconspicuously flailing her hands as a silent and agitated command for the other girls to disperse when she saw Nanami approaching. In a split second, you were alone. Miwa has always been unreasonably fidgety around him but he never quite understood why.

"I seemed to have driven away your company," he said to you the moment he was within earshot, watching you exchange your empty glass for another that's full.

You finally faced him, your scintillating eyes glittering under the wide skylights above. They were fathomless as they were luminous, shining with mischief. It was a familiar sight. From a state of tedium, they seem to come alive at the idea of tormenting him.

"I don't mind."

Of course not. The corners of his mouth curled inconspicuously at that similarity he shared with you. "I seem to always offend that cousin of yours."

"Not really. Frighten is more like it." Your eyes stayed on him even as you drank from your glass.

"Frightened?" Nanami repeated with inflection. He knew Miwa was awkward around him, but it was news that she was afraid of him. He didn’t have anything against her since unlike you, she was actually a sweet girl.

"Well, you have always been purposefully abrasive, you have taken the language of sarcasm to a whole new level and you are a grouch," you told him without batting an eyelash when everyone else was intimidated by him. You were probably the only one who could treat him that way. Not even your brother who is his best friend could do that and mean it.

His planned glance turned into a sidelong stare when he saw how you were eyeing him the same way. The difference was that you had a knowing look about you, evident in the way your eyes shone with diablerie and the contumelious curl at the corners of your luscious lips.

"Is that your opinion of me?" he asked, his expressions remaining stoic. Inside, it was a different story. You are the last being on earth he wanted to view him the way others usually did. He always thought you acted around him differently – defied him, messed with his head (and heart if he was being honest), and annoyed him – because you saw him differently, too. He liked that idea, the feeling it gives him. It was already enough that you are forbidden territory because you are his best friend's little sister. He didn't want you to turn out to be just like everyone else.

You grinned but didn't satisfy his query with a response. It was just like you to keep him guessing that way. You loved your games and especially loved to play them with him. He liked to play along at times, but it gets difficult to keep up with your antics. Your thought process was something he still has to figure out despite years of knowing you.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging you, he said, "Where's the groom-to-be?"

You pointed at the direction of the wood-framed glass doors leading to the indoor salon where your brother was speaking to one of the organizers for his wedding.

When Nanami followed your line of vision, he found the person in question. On a long table before Gojo were different arrangements of flowers, all in shades of pink, cream and white. Honestly, he saw no difference but Gojo was eyeing them as if choosing the right one will solve global warming.

"Being fussy about the flower arrangements more than his bride, obviously." Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey, pinstriped slacks before facing you again. "You think it's a good time to step in?"

At that, you smirked openly. "Wanna play a game, Nanamin?" you asked, appearing and sounding innocent as you addressed him with that nickname you knew he hated.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, knowing well the kind of person you are when you’re refused.

"No protestations this time, I see. You're learning."

He shot you a withering look, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That coming from a childish brat. I won't take offense." He immediately regretted saying that when he saw how your eyes glinted with something sinister. What it was, he didn't know, but he was sure about one thing: he just walked into another one of your traps willingly.

"Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru wins," you said, cocking your head to your brother's general direction.

That was easy, he thought. The fact that he showed up for the week-long preparations for the nuptials was enough to draw out a profound reaction from Gojo. Nanami was just that kind of best friend – absent. In his defense, he did make it to the important parts just in time, but this was something new to Gojo. For all he knew, he wasn't even expecting him to arrive until the wedding.

"Fine." He nodded at you, the action very minute. He was never big on actions. "We'll talk about the compensation later."

You returned the gesture with saccharine mordacity to it. "Alright." However, instead of moving towards the goal, you walked towards the other direction, signaling for him to go first.

It was an easy victory. The moment he walked into the salon, Gojo’s attention was immediately pulled away from the flower arrangements, his eyes going wide as saucers as he took in the fact that his best man arrived way ahead of time.

"Who are you and what have you done to Nanami Kento?" he asked aloud, making some of the guests for the day's luncheon turn towards them. He was evidently elated, his wife-to-be coming to join in, hugging Nanami while he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss this happy occasion for the world," Nanami told the couple, trying his best to convey his thoughts without sounding patronizing. That would be overdoing things even if it meant he would win against you. He wasn’t big on emotions and sentiments either.

All the while, his eyes furtively strayed to you, his competitor, watching you from way across the ballroom, sipping leisurely at your champagne as if you cannot be bothered. However, if Nanami thought he has seen the worst that you can do, he couldn't have been more mistaken in his life.

In the next moment, you entered the salon, appearing self-satisfied as you sauntered towards them, looking like a queen surveying your domain. "Well, well. If it isn't the big shot lawyer himself, coming to grace us with his presence!"

He clucked his tongue, reading through your ploy. You weren’t exactly one for theatrics most of the time, typically straightforward and brutally frank, but your games were as intricate as they were vexing. Nanami turned to face you just enough to conceal his expression from Gojo and Utahime, arching a brow at you in both challenge and question.

In a flash of black and white, you have taken your place in front of him barely a foot away. Your intention to further close the distance between the both of you only became evident when both your hands shot forward, taking possession of both sides of his face as you willed him to bend to your height, tiptoeing to make up for the remaining space. In a brief but seemingly drawn-out sequence of events, you staked your claim on his slightly parted mouth in a scorching lip lock.

Nanami was momentarily distracted by the faint taste of champagne, that detail registering in his brain before the sensation of your pliant lips pressed against his. The realization dawned too late making blood rush up to his head and for his ears to ring as he froze and burned simultaneously. His arms had unconsciously found their way around your slender waist, the feel of your warmth under your taffeta dress searing his palms. It was more for the purpose of steadying himself than you on your precariously high heels. The mere touch of your hand made him incoherent, but the feeling of your lips on his drove him to irrationality. The slim likeliness of the act happening between him and you made it feel as if he was going to pass out or wake up from a long, vivid dream.

He was there. He exists. You were there, real as can be. And you were kissing him.

Gasps erupted from all around, and before he knew it, you have pulled away, releasing your grip on him. As if he couldn’t dig his grave any deeper and punctuate his loss any further, Nanami leaned towards you, chasing your lips, attempting to continue your little interlude, uncaring of where you were or who was watching. After having a tiny taste of it, the absence of your touch affronted him like no other. If having you that close was what it meant to lose, then he will gladly have it.

Your laughter snapped him out of his trance. When his vision focused, he found you leaning away, your hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you said loud enough for him to hear, and for everyone’s benefit, you droned on, saying, “Been dying to do that since I saw you come in.”

Dazed, he just stared at you before him, the fact that he did not just lose to you within the premise of the game registering in his mind like a flash of lightning. Blood rushed to his head, heat permeating from the base of his neck to his scalp when his eyes strayed to Gojo who looked scandalized.

“You…what…” the other male endeavored to speak, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth, his blue eyes rapidly shifting between you and Nanami while his fiancée giggled beside him.

Indifferent to everything else and your sights only set on the object of your trickery, you tittered, savoring the hilarity of the situation. At least, to you, it was funny. “See you around, Nanamin,” you drawled and left with that confident gait, shaking your head in levity.

He wanted to join in on your conviviality, but the idea dissipated faster than water under intense heat when he saw his best friend eyeing him like he was about to castrate him. Nanami straightened up, rearranging his expression to that of quiet shock, laying it on thick by blinking cluelessly as if it was typical of him but Gojo was having none of it.

Ah, the joys of losing to you, he could just think despite his impending doom. Or maybe he was doomed to begin with. He couldn’t care less with the pleasant tingling of his lips and the memory of yours, the taste lingering on his tongue.

“You and me, in the game room. You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

**

If Nanami would be asked how many times he lost to you, he wouldn’t have an answer. At least not for what is healthy for his pride and because he lost count. His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had ever been under your thumb over the years you have had the upper hand. You’ve always had the advantage, and one way or the other, regardless of the odds of the games you played, be it tomfoolery or serious bets, you invariably have a way of turning them into your favor.

He could well say his chances of winning cases in court is higher compared to the fact that you always bested him in life. It frustrated him to no end.

“Wanna play a game?” Those were always the words which heralded a series of infuriating inconveniences that he, along with some other individuals, had to be subjected to ever since you acquired your penchant for mischief and seeming thirst to challenge if not victimize people.

Those words, paired with a ridiculous nickname of your choosing for each of your conquests gave one no choice but to engage. The way you say it was enough to rile even someone who just happened to be listening, as if you were surreptitiously patronizing the person of your choosing. The unreadable expression on your face when you initiate your games also makes one’s hackles rise. While Gojo had the same tendency to be condescending when he wanted to be, you were exponentially more menacing compared to him.

In your defense, you never did it to everyone. It was as if you have a rationale behind the selection of people you felt like messing with. Your criteria was not something that is known to anybody else. At first, it was just Gojo. Then Geto and Shoko Ieiri, another close friend of your brother, got a taste of it until finally, it was his turn. Anyone none the wiser would think your ‘affections’ were solely focused on Gojo’s friends, but apparently, it wasn’t the case.

There were three kinds of people where your games were concerned: people you didn’t give a damn about, those you liked to play with and those you engaged with but eventually stopped being a pain to.

Most people around you were the first type since you mostly didn’t give two fucks about them. For some reason, it had become a sort of status quo in the Gojo household to be included in your sphere but few were lucky enough to hold your attention long enough.

The third kind were people who seemed to have reached an understanding with you. Geto, Utahime and Shoko used to be casualties in your ploys, but after a game or two, they’ve eventually ‘graduated,’ and you treated them like equals. Apart from that, there seems to be an exceptional case when you did not have to inflict yourself on the person just like in the case of your closest friend, Itadori Yuuji. That kid was special somehow, and Nanami thought perhaps he was, too, until you got started with him.

As for him and Gojo, they were still people you liked to torment. His theory was that you were looking for something from the people you play with. If you find it, you stop. It wasn’t a theory anymore that it was a sort of defense mechanism if he deduced right, judging from the situations which led to the change in your behavior.

It all started when you came home from boarding school overseas after finishing your freshman year in high school. Gojo had invited them over as per usual for the summer events being held at their estate but suddenly started talking about his concerns over you.

“She’s distant,” he said with a sigh when asked about it. Apparently, your parents were upset over you decision not to attend the school of their choice anymore and threatened to drop out and run away if they insisted further. “And there seems to be something wrong with her. She seems different somehow. Very snappy and always in a foul mood. She rarely leaves her room, and when we try to help, she gets angrier.”

“She’s in that phase, huh?” Shoko mused. “Want me to talk to her?”

Gojo insisted to do it, being all dramatic and saying he had been a lousy brother. But that’s when you started being the way you were. You weren’t an angry teen anymore, just someone who indulged yourself by toying with others without regard to whose expense and to what extent. Most of them were harmless, but you very nearly endangered two of your friends, too.

Nanami dug his own grave when he purposefully tried to have a go at you, pointing out your mistakes in an attempt to intervene at that time. You used to be rather passive where he was concerned, polite even, but then everything changed that night.

He was somehow glad that you decided to approach him when you needed help when you usually gravitated towards Geto, surprised to see you at his doorstep past midnight and looking ashen.

First, you dared this new girl, Kugisaki Nobara, to sneak into the abandoned factory at night, and the girl ended up hurting yourself. You looked so regretful and distraught while explaining what happened on the ride to the factory, and for the first time, he realized that you only ever challenged people you held a certain degree of fondness for. Everything ended well without anybody else knowing of your mishaps but him, and in a twist of fate, she even became your first real friend.

And then, you started yet another game with Fushiguro Megumi, effectively getting him kicked out his father’s clan. You weren’t exactly aware about the deeper reason as to why his family wanted him to be close to you, only that you found displeasure in it because he was a groom candidate. It was common among old clans like yours, and when you dared him to tell your parents he had no intention of marrying you, your brother had to intervene and take the boy in, ending up registered under Gojo Clan instead. While his family was trash in all sense of the word, you were still at fault since you ruined his only chance at being accepted by the clan head. Still, he, too, became your friend, and more than that, an adopted brother.

“Is this some attention-seeking behavior you’ve learned somewhere?” Nanami asked you that time.

“I get attention without as much as lifting a finger being who I am.” You snorted. “I can’t expect everything to be positive though.”

He was taken aback by your statement then. Still, he tested his theory. You were different after all. While some people admired you for your genius and your otherworldly looks, there will always be those who hated you for it. It was like a repeat of Gojo, except that he had them, his friends. Whom did you have?

“Are you being bullied at school?”

At that, your pupils constricted, your bright eyes turning icy as you regarded him. You were quiet for a moment as you stared, not exactly enraged but your brows furrowed together. Nanami could see the cogs in your brain moving through your eyes when you slowly grinned and said those four words: “Wanna play a game?”

He’s been losing to you ever since, not really knowing what you want and what set you off, hell-bent on making him miserable at every opportunity you could take.

It wasn’t all different at present.

The moment he heard the click of the doorknob and your scent – a mix of crisp autumn air, vanilla and a hint of something that reminded him of happiness – registered in his brain, he froze on his chair in the study where he was currently taking notes on his upcoming case. It was a trade-off for the length of time he would be gone from the law firm he worked at. His grip on his pen tightened that he thought he would break it to splinters when he saw you from his periphery, still looking like a goddess, fresh and gorgeous despite the day's affairs.

You were so painfully beautiful that concentrating on the file before him was proving to be difficult. Everything else didn't make sense to him whenever you were in the same room as he is. It didn't help that you kissed him in front of everyone just a few hours ago. He couldn't forget the feeling no matter how many times he convinced himself that it was just you playing your games; that it was nothing. He wished it was otherwise, not that it helped in his cause a bit.

"What on earth was that about?" Gojo demanded, pulling him aside to the game room like a child who did something naughty. In fairness to him, he was still fond enough of Nanami to offer him a drink but, indeed, he thought, what on earth was that about?

He shrugged. "Have you met your sister? Surely, you know just what crazy antics she has up her sleeves. She gets her annoying side from you anyway."

The answer seemed to have placated the male for the time being but if you were going to continue with your mischief, Nanami has no way of telling where things can go. And judging by your confident gait and the complacent grin swathed on your countenance, you were up to no good again.

He carded his fingers through his blond locks, leaning back on the chair as he furtively watched you.

"Do you need anything?" he asked calmly despite himself.

"Hmm. I won," you murmured, rounding the heavy oak desk before vaulting yourself up on it to sit just beside his papers, your eyes zeroing in on the files.

He shot you an accusing glare. "What was that about?"

You arched a brow at him, wrenching your gaze from the documents with a frown, the way your eyes widened in mock innocence making him want to box your ears. "What was what about, Nanamin?” The preposterous nickname rolled off your tongue tauntingly. “I thought you hated questions that can be openly interpreted."

"Why did you kiss me?" he snapped.

"Well..." You openly mocked him with a smile. "Could there be any other reason apart from our bet?"

"Of all the things you could think of, you went for something that would give your brother a heart attack not to mention that it put me in hot waters."

“Isn’t that the objective of our little bet?”

He sighed. "This is the last time I'm indulging you."

"Eh? You said that the last time we saw each other, too." You feigned exasperation. "Doesn't change the fact that you lost again though."

"What do you want?" He finally sat up straight, stacking the documents on the table. "Why are you sitting there anyway?"

"You're right." You jumped off the desk and much to his confusion, instead of taking one of the seats at the other side of the table, you swatted his arm from the papers and sat on his lap like he was an easy chair.

"What –"

You turned to him then, your faces just inches from one another. "Is this better?" you asked as if you saw nothing wrong with your iffy position.

Nanami didn't know what to do with, his arms remaining still on his sides while he just stared at you as if you grew two heads. "Is this another one of your games?"

You leaned closer to him, your bright eyes drowning him. "You tell me." You laughed then. "I wasn't the one who couldn't get enough of this afternoon's kiss."

He shrugged before he could run away with his thoughts. You were right. He did want to kiss you more, but it wasn't as if he could.

Just then, you reached over and removed the glasses that were always perched over his nose then wore it yourself. "What are you doing?"

"You look better without them," you commented.

"I need them for reading." He rolled his eyes at you. "Get off, Y/N."

"Hmm? Is that really what you want?" you taunted, your hand having found purchase at the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft hair.

He placed a hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up to your hip, reveling in the feel of your warmth under his touch. He looked at you seriously then and leaned away, surprised when you frowned momentarily. It was so fleeting, he didn’t know whether he was imagining it when he saw disappointment on your face. That was a first.

"Y/N, Just tell me what you want. You won the bet after all."

Shrugging, you stood up as if you weren’t just perched on his lap. "Go figure," you quipped, sounding pissed off. "Think of something I would actually want. It's up to you."

“Another game?”

“Think of it as you want.”

"What?"

You slammed the door close in your wake before he could get an answer, once again leaving him there puzzled at your reaction and exasperated with himself.

-end of Part 1-

First of all, Happy Cake Day to the love of my life, Nanamin!

I made him a lawyer here cause that's freakin' hot!!!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Everyone's aged up here as well, including the younger characters which will be included in the story.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210703]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[ipuckwithhockey]

Just Ask- N. Patrick

a/n: More Nolan stuff? Yup. I should preface this with the fact that we should all be considerate of all hockeys and their personal lives. They have lives that do not include us and we should respect that. This includes their online accounts whether they are private or public. I say that because this does slightly touch on Nolan’s music taste/interest in music, but there’s nothing specific. Also, lets remember that this is all fiction! We’re just here to have some fun. Anyway, this is a short one, nothing too crazy. Let me know what y’all think!

warnings: drinking, swearing

------

Meeting the Flyers was a byproduct of your friendship with Carly. The two of you have been friends for ages and she introduced you to the boys early into her relationship with Travis. You were able to avoid being the consistent third wheel by finding a comfortable place within Travis’ group of friends. Although Carly and Travis have insisted that they try to set you up with someone on the team, you continually refused, saying that it would be awkward if it didn’t work out. Not to mention the fact that you didn’t think any of the guys were interested.

The lovesick couple bothered you about it for ages, trying to push Beezer and Frosty on you, and then saying that you and Nolan would be “so cute” together. Joel and Morgan were great, you loved them both dearly, but there was no way you were dating either one of them. They were more compatible with each other than with you.

However, the last one you didn’t disagree with. You agreed, and thought that you and Nolan would make an exceptionally cute couple. It takes two to tango though, and Nolan definitely isn’t interested. Nolan has always been friendly and your personalities mesh well enough that you would consider him a good friend. The two of you even hang out by yourselves when TK and Carly cancel on you to do god knows what. You’ll grab food or watch a movie, but he has never made any inclination that he feels anything more than platonic towards you.

Nolan is shy, and dry, yet incredibly funny. He’s blunt and has a few sharp edges to him, but he’s not the fiery time bomb that TK resembles. He’s more reserved, laid back, and you can feel at ease with him because of it. You loved Travis to bits, and he was the perfect match for Carly’s outgoing personality, but you can only handle so much of him.

Take right now for example. You’re standing in the kitchen of a post-win house party, and Travis is incessantly nagging you to go talk to Nolan. The house you’re in is full to the brim with people you’re sure they don’t know and you and Travis are in the kitchen fixing yourselves another round of drinks. From where you’re standing you can see Nolan in the family room towering over a few doe eyed girls who hang on his every word. They are fixated on him, and you think that he could tell them to get on their knees right then and there and they would do it gladly. (You’re not sure you would say no either, so no judgement there.) 

You’ve seen him take girls home from parties and bars, and he’s seen you with your fair share of conquests as well. It doesn’t bother you, and you figure it doesn’t bother Nolan either. Would you mind being the girl he took home? No, not at all, but unfortunately that was a role you would probably never be cast in. Even if you were you wouldn’t want to be one of those other girls anyway. You wanted to be the girl. You wanted to be the girl who made him forget about all the girls before you.

Your silent pining was becoming a little sad, and as much as you hated it, you couldn’t do anything to change how you felt about him. When you first met Nolan, you figured your little crush would soon dissipate, but the opposite ended up occurring. Now you were the sad, lonely, pining girl. You hated being her, but you couldn’t help it. You were totally gone for him.

“Come on, he’s not even listening to whatever those girls are saying to him. And you know he’s been checking you out since you got here.” Travis lays it out simply for you but you’re quick to refute, “Trav, he’s only looking over here because you haven’t stopped staring at him all night. If any two people at this party are into each other it’s you and Nolan, not me and Nolan.”

“What are you guys getting so heated about over here? And why do you keep looking at Nolan like that, Trav?” Carly comes over to tuck herself into Travis’ side as he puts his arm around her. You make a face at Travis as to say, “I told you.”

“He won’t leave me alone about Nolan, thinks I should go over there and interrupt the fan club.” You motion in the direction of where Nolan is still standing in front of his little doe eyed fans.

Carly’s eyes light up, “Oh, he totally checked you out earlier! You should go over there. Scare all those little girls away. They never had a chance anyway,” she explains matter-of-factly.

“Carly! You’re supposed to me on my side, remember?” You look between your friend and her boyfriend, who’s grin is getting bigger and bigger as spreads across his face.

“Look, you can deny it for as long as you like, but he’s totally into you, and you’re totally into him. Travis and I both know it.” Carly and Travis look so satisfied with themselves, that they think they’ve played matchmaker between the two of you, but you’re still not convinced.

“Ok, give me 5 reasons you think he could possibly like me, or that we are somehow compatible, and then maybe I’ll go over there.” You motion back in Nolan’s direction.

Travis is quick to the pitch, “You’re both oddly quiet. Like it kind of freaks me out when I come into the room and it’s just the two of you sitting there on the couch, and you’re not even talking! Sometimes the TV isn’t even on. It’s just silent. Like who even does that?”

This elicits an eye roll from you as you remember the many times Travis has walked in on you and Nolan sitting in a quiet room together, neither of you feeling the need to constantly fill the air with pointless conversation. Travis has never understood it.

“What about how Nolan always gets you drinks when we’re out?” Carly chimes in.  “He doesn’t do that for everyone. Hell, I don’t think he’s ever asked me if I needed another when he’s headed up to the bar.”

You’ve never noticed that he doesn’t ask anyone else when he goes up to the bar. Thinking about it now, it does seem kind of odd. But the two of you will often find yourselves next to each other while you’re stuffed inside a packed bar on any given weekend, and you figure he’s just being nice since you’re usually one of the only single ones there.

“That’s only two, and your reasoning is horrible. He’s just being nice and being introverted is not a crime.” You lean back onto the counter behind you as you cross your arms in front of your chest.  Now you’re facing toward the open room where one of the girls has inched her way closer to Nolan.

“He’s been a lot more excited to go out lately. He always asks if you’re coming. The last time we all went out I gave him a hard time about it. I don’t think his face has ever been that red.” Travis explains. “That’s another one! Whenever you show up or you do that thing that girls do when they’re flirting, you know the one where they touch a guy’s arm when they’re talking, he gets so red. Like tomato red.” Travis isn’t very eloquent in delivery, but you understand what he’s saying. “That’s four, baby.” He reminds you.

“He gets red when anyone talks to him and whenever anyone is brave enough to touch him. And I do not do that flirting thing.”  You look to Carly for reassurance, “Do I?” you ask.  She doesn’t offer the reassurance you were looking for, instead stating, “Oh, you totally do that. Sorry, you’re just not that subtle.”

“Oh my god.” You let your head hang back as you look up to the ceiling, “He probably thinks I’m an idiot or just creepy.” You really didn’t think you were that obvious, but clearly you were wrong. He probably feels bad for you because he knows you’re totally into him. “Well, if that wasn’t enough to deter me from ever speaking to him again, that’s still only four, so I think I’m going to call it a night and head home and then never show my face near Nolan again.” You try to exit the kitchen with the last bit of dignity you have left but Travis is quick to jump in front of you.

“Nope. I have a fifth one.” He’s standing there with is hands on his hips and you’re sure he thinks it makes him look more commanding. You just roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

“Really? You think it’s good enough to get me over there?” You quip back at him as you nod back towards Nolan.

“Oh yeah.” He nods back, “And if it makes you feel better Nolan is super obvious too. Like I said, tomato red.”

“So, are you going to tell me the fifth reason or are you just going to keep me hostage here all night?” Now you’re mimicking his stance with your hands placed firmly on your hips.

“It pains me to admit this one because he doesn’t even let me do this,” Travis sighs. “He lets you have the aux every time you’re in his car. No questions asked, he just lets you play whatever you want. Doesn’t even complain about it!”

You’re processing what Travis is saying. Nolan did always let you choose the music in the car, but you didn’t think anything of it. You probably grabbed the aux without hesitation the first time you hopped in his car. That’s just what you always did with your friends. It never dawned on you that he might not let other people do that too.

It checks out though, Nolan loves his music. It’s important to him, and his perfectly curated playlists are like little works of art for him. You’ve watched him manicure his playlists for hours as he sits on the couch, and admittedly you have similar taste in music. Maybe that’s why he didn’t care? Maybe you just always chose songs that he would have also picked? Although there was that one week where you made him listen to the Frozen soundtrack on repeat. He probably wouldn’t have picked that one…

You don’t have time to decide on why you think Nolan would ever let you get away with something he holds so sacred because he has since left his group of girls and has found his way into the kitchen where you’re still squared off with Travis.

“You guys gonna pull your pistols out soon?” Nolan mumbles an announcement that he has entered the room, and you realize that you’re still stood in front of TK, both of you with your hands on your hips.

“Nope, we were actually just heading out to play pong, we’ll see you guys later!” Travis quickly ushers himself and Carly out of the room, and before you can protest, you’re left alone with Nolan. He’s leaning against the counter opposite to you, and when you move your eyes to rest on his figure you can’t help but do a quick intake of just how good he looks. He’s wearing the same basic outfit that just about every other guy in the house is sporting, and yet it looks so much better on him.

“What was that about? You guys okay?” Nolan asks.

“Uh- Yeah, Trav just being Trav, you know?” You attempt to brush off the topic of what you and Travis were discussing prior to Nolan’s arrival. Similar to those times that Travis was referencing, neither of you feel compelled to fill the air with unneeded dialogue, and you fall into a comfortable silence. Neither of you are saying anything now and Nolan takes the time to twist off the cap to another beer from the fridge.

“I was gonna go out back. It’s too hot in here, wanna come?” Nolan nods his head to the sliding glass door at the other end of the kitchen, and you respond by following him out to the deck. The quietness and crisp winter air that fills your lungs is refreshing. The two of you lean against the railing of the deck and enjoy the break from the chaos inside. You continue in your silence and you can’t help but watch as Nolan takes long drags of his beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“Can I ask you a question?” You ask, and without speaking he nods, giving you the go ahead.

“Why don’t you let Travis have the aux?”

Nolan chuckles a bit, “Of all the things you could ask, that’s what you choose?” he retorts before answering, “If you must know, he has horrible taste in music. But also, I don’t let anyone have the aux. My car, my music. It’s the rules,” he states, taking another quick swig of his beer that’s almost empty now.

He confirmed what Travis had said to you, but you’re not convinced. There had to be a catch. He probably never realized that you did it. You’re sure of it.

“But you let me have the aux?” You form the sentence with a question mark on the end, and your eyes follow Nolan as he leans over the railing to look out into the backyard. He’s avoiding meeting your eye, and you can tell he’s thinking, deciding on what he’s about to say.

“Probably ‘cus I can’t say no to you,” the muttered words come out under his breath, like he doesn’t want you to hear it.

“What? What does that mean?” He lets out a huff of air as his hands push is his long hair back out of his face, something he only does when he’s stressed.

His body turns to face you now, “You could literally tell me to jump off a bridge or run through this house naked, and I would probably do it. No questions asked.”

The quizzical look that occupies your face prompts him to continue. He’s frustrated, you can tell, “I just don’t know how to say this without fucking us up as friends…” He starts to pivot away from you again, but you reach out for his arm, stopping him from leaving, “What if I don’t want to be friends?” You’ve chosen to be the bold one now, and if it bit you the ass you were just going to have to live with that, but you can’t help but feel like you’ve both been on the same page all along.

“You don’t want to be friends with me?” Hurt. Confusion. Annoyance. They all flash across Nolan’s face before you can interject again, “I don’t want to be just friends with you. I want to be more than that. I want to be the girl you take home when this party is over, and the girl who gets to wake up next to you every morning after, and even if you don’t want that, you need to know that’s how I feel about yo—“

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’tt pull you into a heart wrenching kiss, there aren’t fireworks playing behind you. To your surprise, Nolan has chosen to haul you over his shoulder, your arms falling over his back as he walks swiftly back into the house.

“NOLAN! What the fuck!? Put me down!” You yell at him as he continues to carry through the house. The party is so wild by now that you’re sure no one even notices the 6’2 hockey player with a girl over his shoulder.

“Nolan! Seriously. Put me down!” You’re feel like a little toddler who has gotten herself in trouble, and when Nolan finally does place your feet back on the ground, you’re outside next to his car that is parked in front of the house. He sets you down, and you’re slightly dizzy from being swung around like a rag doll, but he steadies you in front of him with his hands on your waist.

“What the fuck was tha—”

He cuts you off again, but this time he isn’t hauling your body into the air. This time his hands are on either side of your face and his lips find yours and there are even metaphorical fireworks going off as you kiss him back. You stand there, pushed against the side of his car, with his hands tangled in your hair, and your tongues exploring each other mouths. When you finally come up for air he pushes back away from you so that he can meet your eye.

“If you wanted to be that girl all you had to do was ask.” A smirk is plastered across his face, and you lightly shove at his chest even though it does little to move his large figure.

You surrender, “Okay, but we have to get an Uber, we’ve both had too much to drive.” You can’t help but grin back at him as he reaches for his phone to order a car for the both of you. When the car arrives, you get in to head back to Nolan’s apartment with your hands wrapped together. “I can’t believe Travis was right,” you say as you let your head rest on Nolan’s shoulder and he turns his head to you with his eyebrow furrowed, “Right about what?”

[singofsolace]

In celebration (and mourning) of Jill Murphy, I am taking stock of my own relationship to The Worst Witch and what it has meant to me.

In light of the recent deaths of Jill Murphy, the author of The Worst Witch book series, and Una Stubbs, the original Mrs. Bat, I have a lot of feelings I'm working through this morning. I'm crying as I write this, so it might not be as eloquent as I want it to be. I'm sorry in advance.

It's hard to articulate what The Worst Witch means to me. I've read the books and watched both the 1998 and 2017 television series. They've provided me endless hours of entertainment and inspiration. I've spent countless hours writing stories inspired by Jill Murphy's creations, and I really can't express how much her work has helped me in my worst moments.

To this day, there is one scene that never fails to make me cry:

I remember how I felt watching this the first time. Seeing this scene unlocked feelings in me I had locked up for a long time. It showed me how an adult should handle a conversation like this, even though as a child, no adults in my life had ever treated me with this kind of respect. It showed me that it was possible for an adult to receive criticism--even criticism they disagree with (like when she reacts pretty strongly to Mildred saying that she doesn't like it when she shouts). No adult has ever in the history of my life accepted criticism like this without some sort of retaliation, deflection, or just complete denial. (Key example: "I didn't say that, but even if I did, I didn't mean it like that, and even if I did mean it, it was your fault because.... blah blah blah")

There was such a... I don't know... softness to this conversation, even as Miss Hardbroom is explaining all the reasons she gives Mildred a hard time. I love how Constance allows Mildred to have her say, because as a child, adults never treated me like my thoughts and opinions mattered to them. In this scene, Constance allowed Mildred the opportunity to criticize her freely. (My mother and father and teachers would never?!?!). It was nearly beyond my comprehension that an adult would do this. I'm crying harder just thinking about it, and that's that on childhood trauma.

Anyway, when the new Worst Witch series came out, I wasn't expecting to fall in love with it as much as I did, but Raquel Cassidy won me over as the new Miss Hardbroom. And when Pippa Pentangle was introduced, I fell hard for their beautiful, complicated, not-so-subtly sapphic relationship. And while I didn't enjoy where the series winded up going, I will always be grateful that the first two seasons of The Worst Witch exist for me to revisit whenever I desire.

And now, taking stock of my own writing, specifically my hicsqueak The Proposal fic, it occurs to me that the date I last updated it is significant. March 8, 2020. I stopped publishing the week before the world (or at least my small section of it) shutdown. I was teaching a college-level creative writing course at the time, and little did I know that after that week, I would never see my students in person again.

My world changed. Everyone's world changed. And I tucked the fic into a drawer, unable to look at it. I've revisited many times over the last year and a half, and even got donation-commissions to update it by several people (for my failure to do so, I am very very sorry). There was something about that fic that represented "before" for me. The Proposal was "before" everything fell apart. The Proposal was "before" I was separated from my students. The Proposal was "before" I was excessed and lost my teaching job. The Proposal was before I spent every day worrying about my extended family and friends falling ill with a virus I didn't understand. The Proposal was before I lost all faith in humanity, with people refusing to wear masks and get a vaccine simply because they didn't want to.

Before the pandemic, I truly believed that if a global crisis happened, people would go out of their way to help each other. I believed protecting our grandparents and the immunocompromised would be more important to people than the personal discomfort of wearing a mask, social distancing, and getting a vaccine to help protect yourself and others. I suppose you could say that over the last year and a half, I became completely disillusioned. I hated my neighbors more than I loved them. Huge rifts formed between family and friends over covid safety. My country saw the first NON-peaceful transfer of power in our nation's history. The Black Lives Matter movement made the nation confront centuries-long injustices that we still haven't been rectified or resolved.

The world came to a boiling point, and I thought, "surely, this can't last? surely, things will get better?"

They haven't.

It might sound silly, but for a year and a half, the failure to update this fic has been a major source of sadness and frustration for me, and I feel that it's very much related to having my faith in humanity completely ripped out from under me. The fic represents a part of my life I feel like I will never be able to return to.

And yet, here I am, sitting in the midst of a tropical storm, desperately wanting to return to my story, and crying over it rather than making any progress.

I don't know why I'm sharing this. But the news of Jill Murphy's death has triggered a lot of emotions I don't know what to do with. I'm sorry for rambling, but maybe someone will read this and understand.

[sidespart]

For the fic title thing: Make Up Your Mind/Catch Me I’m Falling

Make Up Your Mind (this seriously got away from me and became basically a whole string of conscious fic whoops)

Logince, Bakery/coffeeshop AU Mutual Pining/ Not-Actually-Unrequited love, + loceit friendship

So Janus owns a Bakery (struggling to think of a snake/lie based bread pun for the name but ehh). He is the head only baker and sends most of his time in the basement kitchen blasting the phantom of the opera soundtrack and kneading dough. 

Logan is his childhood friend. Janus hired him as cashier after Logan dropped out of collage but then he never left and is now basically manager/ accountant/ hbic of this whole operation.

So one night as Janus is leaving he’s casually like: ‘oh by the way, a couple are coming by tomorrow for a wedding cake consultation’

And Logan blocks the door and is like: ‘Janus. We don’t do wedding cakes. We don’t even do cake. You only make weird artisanal bread. it took me 6 months and 8 powerpoint presentations to convince you to sell banana loaf’

Jan, his eye enormous: ‘but Logan, you should have heard this guy on the phone. They only want to use LGBTQ businesses for their wedding, they want to support the community that’s supported them for so long. He spoke so passionately and eloquently about why it just had to be us I couldn't say no’

Logan, his eyes not enormous: did you tell this man we make wedding cakes just to make the phone conversation end?

Janus: I was going to miss the murder, she wrote marathon, Logan 

So Jan manages to escape, and Logan rolls his eyes but like. This is nowhere near the worst ‘cleaning up after Janus lied to get out of a situation and made everything more complicated for no goddamm reason’ incident that he has had to deal with during the course of their friendship so, whatever: he can tell the couple there was a miscommunication when they show up in the morning. 

Next day, the guys arrive. Virgil, who barley introduces himself and then stays hunched in his hoodie not speaking for the whole meeting, and Roman. 

Roman does not have a problem speaking. Roman has lots of ideas.

Roman has a binder. 

Somehow in the course of this conversation Logan goes from ‘we don’t make wedding cakes’ to ‘I’LL SHOW YOU, WE’LL MAKE THE BEST GODDAMM WEDDING CAKE THIS TOWN HAS EVER SEEN’

Maybe it was the passion of Romans argument. Maybe it was the slightly disdainful look on his face when he looked round the shop. Maybe it was the ridiculous amount of money he was prepared to pay (see: Janus insists on only making specific, weird bread as to why the shop’s always on the brink of collapse). Maybe it was the power of the binder (Logan is like 80% sure Roman hit him with the binder at one point). Maybe its just Logan hasn't had a full blown passionate argument like that since high school debate club and the rush of adrenaline made him dumb.

Whatever the reason - they’re now fully committed to making this 6 tier, purple and blue, Disney inspired, multiflavoured wedding cake

(Janus, who skipped out on the meeting because he is Like That: But Logan....we don’t make wedding cakes...this was really irresponsible of you...

 Logan: I know where you sleep. I could kill you at any time) 

Which would be doable (the weddings a while off, and Logan is ready to RESEARCH) except Roman keeps. Coming. Back. 

With new ideas. And tweaks. And suggestions. All of them seemingly designed to make the cake less structurally sound. 

Basically every time he comes in they end up having a blazing row, first about Romans inability to make up his mind about the cake and then about...literally everything. One time they spent 25 minuets arguing about whether or not Shakespeare wrote all of his plays, which somehow turns into ‘who was the best host of blues clues?’ which then turned  into ‘how would nationalised healthcare best be implemented?’ (the loudest arguments were during the blues clues section).Logan had even fewer customers then normal that day.

(Logan: I hate that guy so much! He shows up at 2pm every day and now my blood pressure has started going up at 1.55pm in anticipation of the fight! He’s causing me actual medical distress because he’s so stupid!

Janus:...you’ve memorised some guys schedule and your heart starts racing whenever you see him?

Logan: yes! because he is my enemy!

Janus:...

Janus: mmKay.)

ANYway, one day Roman turns up and is like: Can’t fight today. Need caffeine. Must Study. and sequesters himself on one of their two rinky dink tables and starts pulling enormous textbooks out of his bag. Turns out Roman is in law school, he’s back home for the whole summer to help with wedding prep and has been neglecting his summer reading. He wants to be an environmental lawyer and, ideally, singly handily prosecute every oil company and give a speech at the UN whilst wearing an immaculately fitted Italian suit. 

Logan has a panicked moment of OH NO HE’S SMART (he doesn't need an oh no he’s hot moment because Roman’s been hot the whole time). Very carefully he does not think about how upset hearing Roman mention the wedding again made him feel, and then shares a bit about his own anxiety during college which led to him dropping out.

Roman says degree or no degree its obvious Logan is one of the smartest, most capable people Romans ever met.

Cue: blushing, stammering, Logan standing up to quickly and knocking half a pot of coffee over etc etc all that good fluff. 

And after that their conversations are less confrontational (although they still debate like. everything.) and more friendly.

They have one (1) more conversation about the wedding wherein Roman apologises for being so stressed and snappy over all the preparation stuff but he just wants everything to be perfect for Virgil. (Logan, awkwardly: you must love him a lot. Roman, himbo-ly: Yeah!) aaand then Logan changes the subject to the best rhyming structure because Romans big sappy grin is making his heart do awful twisty things-

And eventually, Roman asks Logan to go out with him outside the bakery.

Logan: hahaha this is friendship, we are great friends, we are going out as friends. I am not going on a date with a man with a fiancé because that would be the actions of a crazy person.

 So they go on their date. It’s amazing. Roman leans in for a kiss at the end and Logan is delighted!

And then devastated.

He pushes Roman away, yells some creative insult (malodorous centurion?) and flees. Spends the next week basically hiding in the kitchen area, refusing to see any customers and working on the wedding cake.

(which is looking perfect by the way)

So after a week of Logan moping round the kitchen Janus finally blocks the door to stop him leaving and demand he tells him what the hell is wrong. And after a few minuets of filibustering Logan ends up telling him everything.

“In any case, the very fact that he is the kind of man who would cheat on his fiancé means he’s not the kind of man I thought he was. Therefore any alleged feelings I may have developed towards him would now be null and void” says Logan, looking like the worlds sadist accountant

Janus: So...wait. You’re saying wedding cake guy and hot lawyer guy are the same person?

(Logan: you need to come out of the basement more often Janus: YOU need to tell me what’s going on in your life more often. (they have had this conversation many times in the past))

So Janus sincerely tells Logan he’s sorry...and that he’s even more sorry that he needs him to help him deliver the cake to the venue tomorrow.

(this thing is way to big for one person to carry and there’s no way Jan would trust any of their occasional teenage cover staff to do this and ‘we’ll go round the back and you wont have to see anyone anyway comon Lo’ you basically built this monstrosity you should see it home)

So, reluctantly, Logan goes. And they go round the back as promised, and get this enormous cake settled, and then get told to wait there one sec cus one of the grooms is going to come sign for it and before Logan can throw himself out of the widow (get OFF me Janus we’re on the ground floor it’s FINE)  from behind them they hear squeeing.

There’s a curly haired dude in a pastel blue linen suit who Logan has never seen before in his life looking at the cake and cooing over ‘all the little details! its perfect! oh Virgil is going to love this! You know he was so embarrassed about asking for a Disney themed cake he had to ask Roman to go with him to -”

“Who ARE you?”

The man blinked at Logan, who realised dimly that he still had one foot up on the windowsill and slowly returned it to the floor. 

“I’m Patton” said Patton.

“And I’m Janus” said Janus, removing his arms from where they’d still been clamped around Logan’s waist and stepping smoothly towards Patton, clipboard held aloft “A pleasure to meet you, if you could just sign here...”

“BUT-” Patton paused, hand still raised to accept the clipboard, and looked over again at Logan who found himself mumbling:  “but - but the groom is supposed to sign for it?”

And Patton just smiled at him looking a bit bemused and goes ‘I am the groom? And who are you kiddo?”

Logan says he’s Logan. Patton suddenly looks a whole lot less friendly. 

“Oh.” says Patton. “You.”

And since Logan’s mind is currently refusing to take in the information in front of him Janus is the one who ends up stepping in between them and going “so just for 100% transparency - you are Patton. 

“yes?”

“and today you are marrying the love of your life: Virgil?”

“Yes!”

“And are either of you, at any point today, also planning on marrying one Roman Sanders, caffeine addict and terrible communicator?”

And Paton burst out laughing and says “ROMAN? Virgil’s big brother Roman? He’s my best man but I don’t think we’re planning to take it any further...”. And because Patton is apparently much quicker on the emotional uptake than Logan he gives him a vey soft, if slightly exasperated, look and says:

“Roman - who again, is my future brother-in-law- is helping set up in the main hall.”

And Logan likes to think he said thank you before he took off fucking RUNNING through the building but he can’t be sure.

So he gets to the hall, where a load of people are setting out chairs, putting up flowers etc,  and skids to a stop at one end of the aisle. Shouts: “ROMAN.” (Roman and Virgil, who were standing at the other end arguing over a flower arrangements, both look up) “YOU’RE NOT MARRYING YOUR BROTHER.”

“um.” Says Roman “No?”

Explanations are given. Virgil, who is a lot more talkative now that he’s not on 7th wedding appointment of the day burn out, is ready to physically fight Logan for breaking his brothers heart. And then once he understands the full story is ready to kill both of them for being such dumbasses.

Roman: But I s2g I told the guy on the phone that it was the groom and best man coming??? Logan: Yeah he might have lied and said you were a couple for a joke, or he may have just straight up not listened to you. Either way, he is just Like That.

Logan: WHY DID YOU NEVER MENTION VIRGIL WAS YOUR BORTHER?? Roman: I WAS TRYING TO GET TO KNOW YOU AND ALSO SEDUCE YOU WHY WOULD I WASTE TIME TALKING ABOUT MY LITTLE BROTHER??? Virgil: Yeah...he does like talking about himself, sorry he’s just  Like That.

Anyway it all ends fluffily, Patton and Virgil get married. Roman cries. Logan and Jan hang around for the wedding. Roman and Logan hold hands throughout the speeches and dance during the reception. Roman has to go back to law school soon but they agree to call each other every day at 2pm to catch up and argue. 

Janus gets off with the moustachioed DJ. 

And Roman and Logan get another chance at their first kiss.