#rather than putting in the effort to read all the lessons you made and by other Black people

[blackfilmmakers]

Dear non-Black creators !

Gentle reminder that Ice isn't your own personal volunteer sensitivity reader and that a lot of the questions you're asking have been answered in the lessons kindly provided for free. Other questions can be answered by using Pinterest (for hairstyles references for instance), google or prioritising Black creators when you do some research.

You also might not realize how "othering" some of the questions you ask are. Maybe you're so hesitant and lost because you see your Black characters as Black before you see them as characters at all. Re-reading Ice's lessons and taking the time to truly internalize them might help a lot.

I know most of you mean well and want to improve but excepting even more free labour will eventually ruin your intent to impact ratio. Some of you only interact with Black content creators who you expect to be available to personally interact with you and it shows.

@creatingblackcharacters

Anon originally wanted to send you this message

I'm ngl tho, I've been having similar thoughts 😆

[sofiatarot]

What Is Your Future Self Dying to Tell You? Pick a Card

TIP JAR - FREE READINGS - PAID READINGS

1.2

3.4

Group 1

Your future self is asking you to recognize where you’ve been neglecting your own growth. There’s a part of you that’s been putting others first or investing energy into situations that drain rather than nourish you. It’s time to shift your focus inward. Reflect on the ways you might be holding yourself back by ignoring your needs and desires. You have the ability to create abundance, but it starts with taking care of your foundation.

Clarity will come once you stop second-guessing yourself. You’ve been searching for answers outside of yourself, but your intuition already knows the truth. The uncertainty you feel is temporary, and they want you to trust your inner voice. Stop looking for validation in others and begin to trust your own instincts.

You might feel as though your efforts aren’t paying off, but the future-you is here to remind you that not all seeds bear fruit immediately. Some situations aren’t meant to grow, and it’s okay to let them go. Focus on what truly matters to you, rather than trying to force outcomes that aren’t aligned with your path.

There’s a message here about communication and observation. You may be learning valuable lessons by watching how others handle conflict or challenges. Your future self encourages you to approach situations with curiosity rather than judgment. Be mindful of your words, as they hold the power to heal or hurt.

Rest and reflection are crucial right now. You may have been pushing yourself too hard, and it’s affecting your ability to make clear decisions. Take a step back and allow yourself the space to recover. Your future self reassures you that rest is productive—it prepares you for the next chapter.

There’s a lesson here about letting go of the need to "win" at all costs. They want you to prioritize peace over pride. It’s time to walk away from conflicts that drain your energy. Choose your battles wisely, and don’t allow others to pull you into unnecessary drama.

Finally, this future version of you is guiding you toward balance. There’s a sense of harmony waiting for you, but it requires you to juggle your priorities with care. Celebrate the small victories along the way, and remember that true stability comes from within. Your efforts will lead you to a place of celebration and fulfillment.

Group 2

Your future self wants you to know that the delays you’re experiencing are not failures. It’s natural to feel frustrated when things don’t go as planned, but these setbacks are helping you build resilience. This is a time to focus on refining your goals rather than rushing ahead. Trust that the universe has a plan, even if it’s not immediately clear to you.

Conflict or competition may be present in your life, but your future self encourages you to see this as an opportunity for growth. Challenges can help you sharpen your skills and clarify your priorities. Stay grounded and avoid getting swept up in unnecessary arguments. Choose collaboration over conflict whenever possible.

Abundance is within your reach, and they want you to know that your hard work will pay off. There’s a sense of independence and self-sufficiency in your future, but it requires you to stay committed to your goals. Celebrate the progress you’ve made and take pride in how far you’ve come.

There’s a warning here about seeking external validation. They want to remind you that success is not about the approval of others. Focus on your own definition of fulfillment rather than trying to live up to someone else’s expectations. Stay true to yourself, even when it feels like the world is pulling you in different directions.

A new emotional beginning is on the horizon. This future-you is encouraging you to open your heart to new opportunities for love, connection, or creativity. Let go of past disappointments and make space for something beautiful to enter your life. Trust that you are worthy of the joy that’s coming your way.

You might feel a sense of lack or loss, but they want you to know that this is temporary. Sometimes, letting go is necessary to make room for something better. Don’t be afraid to walk away from what no longer serves you, even if it’s difficult. Trust that brighter days are ahead.

Your future self sees you stepping into a more confident and adventurous version of yourself. Embrace your passions, and don’t be afraid to take risks. However, remember to protect your energy and resources. Balance your drive with practicality, and you’ll find yourself creating a life that feels both exciting and secure.

Group 3

Your future self sees you standing at a crossroads, where the options seem endless but also overwhelming. You may feel unsure of what direction to take or what is truly meant for you. The key is to listen to your inner guidance and trust that clarity will come when you step away from external distractions. Avoid the temptation to overanalyze; your intuition holds the answers you seek.

You’re being reminded of the power of stillness and observation. They want you to embrace patience and allow things to unfold naturally. There’s wisdom in knowing when to act and when to simply observe. This is a time to rely on your inner strength and trust in divine timing, even if the path ahead isn’t fully illuminated yet.

There’s a sense that you may be ignoring a difficult decision or avoiding something that requires your attention. This future-you urges you to face these challenges head-on. You’re stronger than you realize, and the discomfort you feel now is only temporary. Once you take action, the weight you’re carrying will begin to lift.

Life may feel unpredictable, as if things are happening beyond your control. They want you to know that even when life seems chaotic, there’s a greater plan at work. Trust that the cycles of change are ultimately bringing you closer to where you need to be. Adaptability is your greatest strength right now.

Despite the challenges, there’s light shining through. Your future self sees you rediscovering your joy and reconnecting with the things that truly make you happy. Focus on the simple pleasures and the people who bring positivity into your life. Gratitude will guide you through any darkness you’re currently experiencing.

They want you to address the doubts or insecurities that have been holding you back. It’s time to release limiting beliefs and embrace your potential fully. Stop underestimating your ability to create the life you envision. You’re capable of achieving more than you give yourself credit for.

Finally, your future self sees you breaking free from the burdens you’ve been carrying. There’s a celebration in your future—a moment where everything clicks, and you realize the hard work has been worth it. Trust in your resilience and your ability to overcome any obstacles in your path. Transformation is inevitable, and it will bring you closer to your highest self.

Group 4

Your future self wants you to reflect on how your past may be influencing your present. There’s something you’re holding onto—perhaps an old memory, relationship, or way of thinking—that is keeping you stuck. It’s time to release what no longer serves you and make space for the new. Healing begins when you acknowledge and let go.

Heartache or disappointment may be weighing heavily on your spirit, but they assure you that this is not the end of your story. Pain often carries lessons, and from these lessons, you’ll grow stronger. Be kind to yourself as you navigate this period of emotional recovery.

You might feel like the world is working against you or that your efforts are going unnoticed. They want you to know that even setbacks are part of the bigger picture. Sometimes, things fall apart so that you can rebuild in a way that’s more aligned with your true purpose.

Stagnation may be frustrating, but this future-you encourages you to focus on the small victories rather than the bigger picture right now. Progress doesn’t always look like forward motion; sometimes, it’s about learning to be patient and trust the process. The answers will come when you stop forcing them.

A breakthrough is on its way, and your future self wants you to embrace this moment of clarity, where the truth becomes undeniable. Use this newfound insight to move forward with confidence and determination. Trust your ability to make decisions that honor your needs and values.

They see you stepping into your power. There’s a fierceness within you, a determination to rise above any challenges. You’re being called to lead with both courage and compassion. Take bold action toward your goals, and don’t let fear hold you back.

Ultimately, your future self is here to remind you that the wheel of life keeps turning. Even when things feel uncertain, change is inevitable. Trust in the cycles of growth and renewal. What may feel like an ending is actually a new beginning. You are stronger than you realize, and this is only the start of an incredible transformation.

-xoxo ✨️

[birdofwildness]

⋆☀︎｡Potions

⋆☀︎｡Tom Riddle

Summary::Slughorn assigns Tom to tutor you.One lesson turns into a dare,you don't even bother fight him.

Warnings::Suggestive content,bad writing,robbed of smut.

The first day of summer was supposed to smell like lilacs and old books.Instead it smelled like ink and disappointment.

You sat curled in the window seat of your room, a half-read novel in your hands. Outside, the garden swayed gently under a lazy breeze. Your mother’s peonies blooming in pink bursts, bees heavy with pollen,floating from flower to flower.

You should have felt calm and relieved.Another year at Hogwarts survived. No professors annoying you. No late-night essays. No cauldrons threatening to explode because you’d misread the label on powdered armadillo bile.

The scent of chamomile tea curled faintly in the air, warm and delicate, but it did little to soothe your thoughts.

You sat at your table, a book open in front of you — one of Slughorn’s recommendations, naturally, something thick and tedious about advanced brewing theory — but your eyes hadn’t moved past the same paragraph in ten minutes.

He was due any moment now.You knew it. You’d known for days,ever since that conversation with Slughorn.He’d pulled you aside just before the train left.

“Wait, my dear,” he’d said, “I’ve arranged something special for you this summer. A chance to truly get to grips with Potions. I’ve spoken to Tom, and he’s agreed to tutor you.”

You remembered blinking at him, stunned. “Tom Riddle?”

“Yes, yes, brilliant boy, really — very patient, too,” Slughorn had said with a chuckle that you found wildly optimistic. “You’ll learn a lot from him. Consider it an opportunity.”

You’d been thinking about it ever since. What sort of opportunity was it to be taught by someone who’d never once looked at you like you were anything more than background noise? Someone who made teachers beam and students shrink without saying a word?

You glanced at the clock. Four minutes to noon. Was he — His Royal Majesty,Tom Marvolo Riddle — going to show up?

With a quiet sigh, you stood and looked out the window. The garden was bathed in sunlight — bees buzzing lazily near the lavender, your father’s old broom leaning against the shed like it hadn’t moved in years. It all looked so normal.

When the knock finally came — three measured taps against the front door — You didn’t rush. He could wait,you smirked at the thought.

Crossing the hallway slowly, you smoothed the fabric of your shirt, suddenly hyper-aware of your appearance. Not because you wanted to impress him. But because he was an arrogant doormat.

You opened the door and there he stood in all of his glory.Riddle stood with his hands clasped behind his back, posture immaculate, his black school robes exchanged for something more casual — pressed white shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to suggest elegance rather than effort. His eyes met yours with a clinical precision.

Of course, he looked unfairly put together.The kind of polished that wasn’t trying to impress, and yet somehow did — his dark curls resting perfectly in place.There was no wrinkle, no flaw, not even a trace of the summer heat on him. It was irritating. Deeply, unreasonably irritating.

You cleared your throat, shifting slightly. “You’re early.”

His lips curled into a smirk.“Punctuality is a courtesy,” he said simply. “Especially when I’m giving up my time.”

You bit back the urge to roll your eyes.“I suppose you’d better come in,” you muttered, stepping aside.

Tom walked past you without hesitation, a faint trace of musky air behind him. Was he wearing cologne?

He moved like he owned every space he entered, like the room should rearrange itself to better suit his presence.

He paused in the hallway, glancing briefly at the decorations on the wall.

“This way,” you said curtly, motioning him down the narrow hallway.You felt his eyes on your back as you walked.

“Your house is... quaint,” he said, tone unreadable.

You shot him a look over your shoulder and climbed the stairs ahead of him.You opened the door and stepped inside, barely giving him time to process before muttering, “We’ll work here. Don’t judge the wallpaper.”

He stepped in without hesitation.

Your room wasn’t anything dramatic — soft colours, a shelf cluttered with books and half-used candles, a desk littered with parchment. A cauldron sat awkwardly on the floor beside your dresser, cleaned but still smelling faintly of burnt lavender.

Tom looked around, head tilted slightly. He didn’t say anything for awhile,which made you even more nervous.“It’s not as bad as I expected,” he said.

You turned to glare at him, but he was already looking somewhere else.“Sit,” he instructed, pulling out the chair.

You frowned. “This is my room, you know. I don’t take orders here.”

Tom glanced at you, just once — but it was enough.“I meant it as a suggestion,” he said calmly, though the corner of his mouth twitched.“But you’re welcome to stand there awkwardly, if you prefer.”

You sat.He pulled a small notebook from a satchel he bought and opened it, revealing lines of precise, slanted handwriting. Of course his notes looked like a published textbook. Of course he’d brought his own material.

“Draught of Peace. Let’s break it down. Where do you go wrong?”

You hesitated. “I— I don’t know. I panic, maybe?”

“Obviously.” He didn’t even glance up. “When you add the hellebore syrup, what colour are you aiming for?”

“Pale blue.”

“And you get...?”

“Something between grey and despair.”

He didn’t laugh. But there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “At least you’re self-aware.”

As he explained the proportions, you leaned closer — reluctantly. Your desk wasn’t huge, and he wasn’t exactly giving you space. His arm brushed yours once, and you flinched just slightly, more from surprise than discomfort. And he noticed.

“Am I making you nervous?” he asked, not looking at you.

You scoffed. “You wish,Riddle.”

...

It had become a routine.Tom Riddle would knock — always precisely at noon — and you’d let him in. He never stumbled over words or hesitated at doorways. And yet somehow, over the last few weeks, he’d started to feel more like a part of your life — then a part of your furnitire.A frustrating piece of furniture.

Now, he sat at your desk again, long fingers wrapped around his wand as he corrected your notes with infuriating precision. The sunlight coming through the window caught the edge of his cheekbone.

“…and if you add the valerian root too early,” he said, “the infusion becomes volatile.”

“I know that,” you muttered, scribbling down the correction anyway. “You told me that yesterday.”

He glanced at you.“And yet, here it is — wrong again.”

You dropped your quill with an exaggerated groan.“For Merlin’s sake, Tom,” you moaned. “We’ve been doing this every day for nearly two months. Potions, corrections, critiques, more potions. I swear I’m going to start brewing in my sleep.”

Tom blinked slowly, clearly unimpressed with your theatrics.

“I’m just saying,” you continued, gesturing with your hand, “maybe we could try something else for once. I don’t know... something fun.”

At that, something flickered behind his eyes — something sly.“Fun,” he echoed.“You want fun.”

You met his gaze, arching a brow. “Yes, something that doesn't involve me stabbing myself with a stirring rod.”

He was quiet for a moment.Then he stepped around the desk and stopped just in front of you.His hand moved deliberately, landing at your waist.His fingers settled there.

He leaned in slightly, voice low and quiet.“Well then,” he said, almost teasing, “how about this…”

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back up to your eyes.“Brew me a potion,” he said, brushing his thumb against your hip, “while I distract you.”

“That’s cheating,” you breathed.

He tilted his head, dark lashes low. “Only if you lose.” His hand at your waist wasn’t moving, but it might as well have been fire. The way he looked at you sent a heat through your veins.

Your breath hitched, your hand frozen above the parchment, ink pooling quietly from your unused quill.

Tom didn’t back away. If anything, he moved closer — the tips of his fingers brushing the hem of your shirt, his palm flat against your waist now.

“And if I want to lose?” you asked, voice quieter, more breath than sound.

He leaned down until his mouth was just beside your ear.“Then I win,” he whispered. "and you're my prize."

You turned to look at him, and suddenly his face was right there. Closer than it had ever been. His eyes searched yours.You didn’t mean to — but your gaze flicked to his lips. You were keen on losing this one.

His mouth was on yours in a heartbeat — firm, precise, devastatingly calm.You didn’t even realize your hands had grabbed his shirt until you felt the fabric crumple beneath your fingers.

“Is this…” you murmured between breaths, as his lips grazed your jaw, “…still part of your academic plan?”

“Call it… extracurricular.”

And with that, he backed you up against the edge of the desk — books shifting under your weight — and everything that had simmered for weeks finally, finally spilled over.

[marauder-misprint]

Hi! I don't know if you'd be comfortable writing this and if you aren't feel free to disregard this request lol but I was wondering if you could write a sirius black x plus sized reader hurt/comfort? Like maybe she's comparing herself to the people he's usually seen with and thinks he'd never be interested in her only for him to confront her after a bit of avoidance on her part and tell her that he doesn't think that way at all and that she's perfect and beautiful and he wants to be with her

Again if this is uncomfy or weird it's okay to ignore me- I've just been in a bad place recently and figured I'd try my luck haha

thank you for taking the time to read this! I adore your work ( ´∀｀)

Thank you so much for the request! I really hope I did it justice. I'm sorry that you're in a bad place and I hope it passes quickly ❤︎ I didn't go as deep into negative self talk as I could've - I know how mean we can be to ourselves.

Sending my love ❤︎

Boys like Sirius

Sirius Black x Plus size reader

2k words

cw: hurt/comfort, body issues, Happy Ending

It started in third year. Professor Slughorn grew tired of the Marauders interrupting every single lesson so he assigned them seats with different partners on different sides of the room. Remus in the back, Peter in the front, James on the left and Sirius on the right. It only sort of helped. Some days, it made the chaos that followed those boys fill the entire classroom, rather than their two stations. Other days, it meant that the boys talked to and worked with students they otherwise would’ve ignored. In Sirius’ case, that was you. 

The two of you ran in completely different circles. You had never been partnered together before and when given the choice, Sirius always sat with another member of the Marauders. The first few lessons sat next to each other were filled with plenty of awkward silences, mostly because Sirius was grumpy that he was separated from his best friends during a subject he didn’t particularly care for. But slowly, he opened up and once he actually talked to you, he found that he was enjoying Potions, if not looking forward to it. You were also enjoying Potions, because who wouldn’t want the gorgeous and charming Sirius Black as their partner? 

Your new friendship with Sirius spilled out of the Potions classroom. He’d wave to you in the corridor and talk to you in between classes. You were invited to study and go to Hogsmeade with all of his other friends. There were times when you felt out of place with his friends but Sirius made an effort to make sure you were included and listened to when you talked. In the end, you usually said yes to any invite because you got to spend more time with him.

The more time you spent with Sirius and the older you got, the bigger your crush on him got. You tried to play it cool. You tried to pretend that you weren’t absolutely head-over-heels in love with him, just like half of the girls at Hogwarts. Every time he flashed his trademark grin your way, you believed you had a chance with him, that maybe the stars were aligning and you’d get your guy. Every time he gave you a cheeky compliment or let his hand linger longer than a moment on yours, your heart would flutter with hope. Every invite was accompanied with hopeful eyes and excited chatter when you accepted. How could you not read into it? 

However, with half the girls at Hogwarts in love with him, you knew your chances with Sirius were slim. It was painfully obvious in your sixth year. Girls got more brazen with their flirting. He was single and they wanted to change that. It seemed like in between every lesson and at every meal, there was a different girl twirling her hair and batting her eyelashes at Sirius. And to make it all worse, it felt like every girl was skinnier than you. 

These were the thinnest girls with teeny tiny waists. Sirius could have easily lifted any of them up without struggle. And, well, putting it lightly, you had curves. You had thighs, a stomach, a butt, arms, breasts, a body. Someone once said you just had big bones, like that actually meant something. 

Every time Sirius flirted back with one of those girls who looked like the opposite of you, you felt a knife twist in your chest. It was hard to watch the boy you love flirt endlessly with those girls. It was a cruel reminder that boys like Sirius didn’t love girls like you. You felt doomed to a life without love. At least, without his love.

To lessen your pain, you began to distance yourself from Sirius. He had continued to partner with you in Potions every since third year. You talked less during Potions, knowing you couldn’t switch partners. You still waved back to Sirius when you passed in the corridors, but only if he waved first, and if he stopped to try to talk to you, you made an excuse to keep walking. You stopped finding him in the library to study with him and his friends, you stopped going to Hogsmeade with them. If you were barely friends with him, surely it would hurt less when the girls swarmed him. 

It didn’t. 

If anything, it made it hurt more. 

Those girls had it all, and they got his attention. They got his love. 

---

After a particularly quiet Potions lesson, Sirius couldn’t take the silent treatment anymore.

“Oi, lovely, what’s happened?”

You froze as you were putting your things away. You cleared your throat as his words sunk in.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Sirius,” you said slowly. You hoped to Merlin that you sounded confused and not guilty. 

“Feels like you’ve been avoiding me,” he clarified. “Only ever see you in this class… and even then, you’re… you’re not you. You’re quiet. You won’t even look at me.”

You pursed your lips together. So, he noticed. 

“I’m just paying attention, that’s all,” you lied. 

He scoffed. “Paying attention so much you won’t study with me, ahem, us anymore? You won’t come to Hogsmeade?”

You felt the insecurities rising in you like bile in your throat. You didn’t want to talk about this. You knew it would only lead to you admitting your crush on him and his inevitable rejection of you. You could practically hear him saying already ‘I don’t feel the same about you… maybe it’s better you’ve been avoiding me if that’s how you feel.’ Boys like Sirius don’t fall for girls that look like you, you reminded yourself. 

You don’t look at Sirius. Instead, you quickly finished putting your things away.

“I need to get to my next class,” you muttered before disappearing out of the classroom.

Sirius watched you go. He ran his hand down his face. He missed you, your presence, your smile and laugh, everything. And here he was, wondering what he had done to make you avoid him so desperately. 

He found you after classes were over for the day; he knew he had to minimize your available excuses. He was going to talk to you. Sirius would be damned if he had to go another day without knowing you were acting this way. 

“Hey! Love, can we talk?” he said, grabbing your wrist gently.

“Sirius, I have to-”

“Please, I need to know what I did,” he said, beautiful grey eyes filled with worry.

“What you did?” you repeated. 

Your hesitation, although it was only a slight pause, was enough to allow Sirius to pull you down the hall and into an empty classroom. He closed the door behind you. 

“Yes, what I did. What did I do to make you avoid me? I thought we had a good thing going, you know?” 

You looked anywhere but at him. Even without seeing him, you felt yourself getting choked up. You could see his worried eyes in your mind and it was paired with the butterflies you got from him holding onto your wrist. 

“You didn’t do anything,” you managed to say, although your voice is tight, the obvious sound of someone about to cry. 

He walked toward you, putting his things down on the desk behind you and then taking your things out of your arms to put next to his. Then he held the sides of your arms. You had no choice but to look at him.

“Then why? Why have I lost you?” 

Why have I lost you? You wanted to scoff at him. You wanted to laugh dryly. Like you were ever his to lose. Could you tell him that you were just making space for all the girls that fawned over him? Could you tell him that it hurt too much to be that close to him and knowing he’d never look at you like you look at him?

“I-I… I’m protecting myself,” you decided on saying. “At least, I'm trying to.”

“Protecting yourself from what?” he asked earnestly. He paused as he looked into your eyes which were getting glassier by the second. “You know the boys would never prank you, right? I’d never let them.”

“No, not that.” You shrugged off his hands so you could turn away from him. You couldn’t bear to see him when he rejected you for what you looked like. “From… I’m protecting myself from heartbreak.”

“Heart… break…” There was a moment of silence. Then you felt his hand on your arm again. “Love, please explain what you mean.”

His voice made your heart break more than it already was. He was going to make you spell it out for him. He was going to make you say how much you loved him and that you knew he would never reciprocate it. It made your next words come out more angry than you had ever spoken to him before.

“I thought that if I put space between us, that I could stop loving you and it would hurt less to see every girl flirt with you, to see you flirt with every girl who… who doesn’t look like… like me.” Your words came out scathing like fire. It didn’t help that you could feel the hot tears streaming down your face. 

His hand dropped from your arm and you felt your stomach drop. Here it came. Here came the rejection.

“You think I’m flirting with them?” 

His voice was soft. It sounded almost insulted? It was followed by a soft disbelieving chuckle.

“Love, I may have… partaken in banter, but if I flirted, I never meant to.” His hand found your shoulder and turned you back toward him. “The only girl I’ve flirted with is in front of me.”

His other hand raised to wipe the tears from your face.

“I suppose my intentions could have been more clear, if you’re feeling this way. You should know I don’t invite just anyone to Hogsmeade.” 

You couldn’t find the words to respond. His words didn’t feel real. It felt like the world’s cruelest prank. Your uncertainty must’ve been written on your face because Sirius kept talking.

“Love, I’m gone for you. You’re the most perfect person I have ever seen and had the pleasure of knowing and spending time with. Slughorn pairing us together in third year? The biggest blessing, even if I didn’t know it at first.” 

He gave you a moment to process what he was saying, seeing if you had a response yet. You opened your mouth to try to say something but all that came out was a squeak.

“Let me be clear, I really, really, really like you. I want to take you on dates and spoil you like you deserve. I want to spend more time with you. I want to go to Hogsmeade with you and just you. I want to study with you, even if it ends up with you actually studying and me watching you… which is what usually happens when I’ve invited you in the past, in case you never noticed.”

You were beginning to smile, so he continued. 

“I want to hear you laugh. I want to talk to you in the corridors. I want to sit next to you during meals and be with you in the common room. I want to kiss you. I want to snuggle with you and hug you and hold you. I really mean it when I say you’re perfect. You’re so bloody gorgeous and if I have to blatantly flirt with you every day so that you believe it, I will. You just have to say the word.”

“Okay,” you said quietly in a shaky breath.

“Can… can I kiss you?”

You nodded and Sirius took a confident step toward you. He held your face with both of his hands before bringing your face to his. All of your insecurities don’t disappear in that moment like you’d want them to, but you felt more confident than you had in a while. You felt like you were on top of the world though. The boy you love likes you back; and you know this because you can’t fake a kiss like this.

[defectivevillain]

scar-crossed lovers

pairing: Severus Snape/Reader (can be platonic or romantic)

summary: “This really isn’t necessary,” you feel the need to say, once you realize that Severus is going to apply the burn paste for you. “I’m perfectly capable—” you break off at the cynical expression on his face, which suggests exactly how incapable he thinks you are.

word count: 2.7k | ao3 version

this work is technically in a series, so feel free to read the other parts and then come back :3

warnings: first-degree burns

Potions was one of your least favorite subjects as a Hogwarts student. You weren’t necessarily bad at brewing, but you weren’t quite skilled at it either. The pressure to follow precise instructions coupled with the subsequent risk of injury that came with errors made it a hard class for you to enjoy. You didn’t have enough confidence in your abilities to proceed through Potions with conviction, and that showed through in your classwork. You often brewed the Potions correctly, but it took you twice as long as it took your classmates. 

Thankfully, your Potions days are long behind you. You’re the Ancient Runes professor at Hogwarts and acting Head of Hufflepuff House—and neither of those roles require an extensive knowledge of Potions. You’re more than content to leave the art of Potions to Severus Snape, the current Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House. You’re secretly relieved that you left Potions back in your school years. You’d much rather continue practicing and researching the subject you’re skilled at—Ancient Runes—than meddle with Potions.

The universe seems dead-set on spiting you, however, because you soon find yourself in a rather uncomfortable position. Minerva is regarding you with an expectant gaze, evidently waiting for you to respond to her statement. You have to put a conscious effort towards remembering what she’s requested of you. 

Severus will be away for the next few school days, in order to attend an international Potions conference. Since the Potions Master will be absent, the castle will need a substitute to stand in his place. You’re not exactly surprised that Minerva is asking you to fill in for Severus—you teach an elective course for upper-years, which means that you have less classes to teach than your colleagues. You have enough time in your schedule to fill in for Severus. The thought of returning to the dungeons for Potions isn’t quite savory, but you know you’ll manage. Besides, you’ll be the professor, not the student. You won’t actually have to brew anything; instead, you’ll be supervising the students’ creations.

“I can do it,” you tell Minerva. The Transfiguration professor thanks you and the tension seems to leave her shoulders. For the rest of your meeting, the two of you review the lesson plans Severus left and discuss any potential obstacles. You leave feeling both nervous and excited. 

To your surprise, however, your Potions classes proceed rather well. The first day flies by without incident and you find yourself feeling strangely validated. You had anticipated there to be a struggle with maintaining your authority, especially with the younger classes of students whom you haven’t gotten to know yet. However, everything went rather smoothly. There were a few hiccups here and there, but you managed to handle them well. Perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.

Of course, the moment you begin to relax, something goes wrong. In hindsight, perhaps you should’ve expected mishaps from the second year Slytherins and Gryffindors—the two Houses usually don’t get along well, and the students are fairly young. But, you don’t have a choice in the matter—you have to supervise them, since Severus is absent. Safe to say, within a few moments of starting class, you’re developing a headache. 

The class is currently learning how to brew Strengthening Solution. You copy the recipe from the textbook onto the board with large handwriting and provide a few general tips, before allowing the students to pair up and begin brewing. By the end of the period, each pair should present a Strengthening Solution for grading.

Strengthening Solution is far from a difficult brew, but you still spot a few pairs having trouble. You eventually decide to pace around the classroom in circles, keeping your eyes peeled for raised hands or confused looks. Malfoy is doing well—unsurprising, considering that he’s apparently one of the top of the class. The same goes for Granger. Zabini and Nott seem to know what they’re doing. Weasley seems torn between attempting to slice his ingredients and cheating off of Granger. There aren’t any noticeable fights brewing amongst the students, which is a plus. Malfoy and Potter have a rather bitter rivalry, from what you’ve heard. 

Someone is trying to get your attention, though. You break away from your thoughts and walk over to the student, who is raising their hand diligently. “What’s the next ingredient?” a boy you recognize to be Neville Longbottom asks. You peek down into his cauldron, frowning when you notice it’s the wrong color. 

“What have you done so far?” you ask him. Longbottom recounts the steps he’s taken and you manage to find where he left off. “Salamander blood is next, Mr. Longbottom,” you answer him. Longbottom exchanges a worried look with Finnigan, his lab partner. Dread coils in your chest. The two of them look scared.

“Salamander?” Longbottom repeats, his eyes wide. 

“Yes,” you respond. The shocked look on Longbottom’s face does not inspire confidence. You grimace and take another sidelong glance at the cauldron, surprised to find that the color has since changed. Just what did Longbottom put in the concoction?

You don’t have time to find out, as the cauldron bubbles ominously. Within the blink of an eye, the cauldron is spitting boiling hot liquid everywhere. You quickly shove Longbottom to the side and turn to conjure a shield. Your arm is prickling and aching, but you ignore the sensation and focus on containing the potion’s unexpected eruption. Thankfully, you manage to prevent any harm to the other students—which is most important. A nullifying spell calms the bubbling potion back down, and you quickly send Longbottom to the infirmary before instructing the class to finish brewing and turn in what they have. Despite the mishaps with Longbottom’s brewing, the majority of the class seems to have finished the Strengthening Solution unimpeded. Once the students are dismissed, you turn your attention to the now-melted cauldron and try your best to repair it. After a few minutes of concentration, you manage to somewhat restore it. At the very least, it’s functional. Longbottom will just have to deal with it. 

You finish cleaning the table up, before wiping the sweat from your brow and taking a deep breath. That was a close call—your heart is still racing. There’s no telling what would have happened if you hadn’t contained the potion in time. Thank Merlin for small mercies, you suppose. 

It takes several moments for your adrenaline to fade away, and the feeling is then replaced with a strange prickling along your forearm. You frown and pull up your shirt sleeve, hissing as it rubs against your chafed and burnt skin. It seems not everyone escaped unscathed. Truthfully, though, you’re glad you’re the one injured—and not any of the students (aside from Longbottom, who is likely being chewed out by Madam Pomfrey right now). 

You know a few minor healing spells, but they hardly do anything to get rid of the harsh burn that seems to tear its way up your arm. You don’t really want to go to the infirmary—you know Poppy would have no qualms about telling you exactly how reckless and foolish you were. You suppose you could raid Severus’s Potions stash… but you don’t have a death wish. Severus is very possessive of his Potions, and you know he’d flip once he returned and noticed that something was missing. You inhale slowly and take a moment to process everything that just happened. 

Your brief reprieve doesn’t last very long, as a student enters the classroom and breaks you out of your thoughts. You cast a minor pain relief spell and quickly roll your shirt sleeve back down. Before long, you’re too busy greeting the next class of students to pay much attention to your injury.

Thankfully, your remaining lessons are uneventful. It isn’t until your final class is over and you start to walk to the dining hall that you remember the burn itching at your skin. The pain nullification spell has worn off and you cast another, idly hoping that it’ll somehow get rid of the burn entirely. You don’t really have the luxury to devote time to your wound—you need to finalize your lesson plans for the coming week and grade some essays that the fifth-years turned in. You spend dinner lost in thought, planning out how you’re going to spend the rest of your day. 

It’s really a shame that your plan falls into obscurity the moment you leave the Great Hall. You can’t be more than a few steps down the hall before you feel a presence at your side. You chance a sidelong glance at your newfound companion, relaxing when you realize it’s Severus. 

“Hey, Severus,” you greet him, unable to stop the small smile that works its way onto your face. You’re happy to see him. Severus nods and begins to walk at your side. You’re heading back to your office, and you suppose he is going to be returning to his office too. “Glad you’re back. How was the conference?” 

The Potions professor huffs. “There was a veritable mix of bright minds and complete fools,” he remarks with a dark glare pointed ahead. You have to stifle your amusement at the gesture. Severus doesn’t seem keen to elaborate further on the sentiment.

“That sounds about right,” you hum, recalling what you’ve heard about the conference in passing. “Your classes did pretty well. Only one cauldron blew up.” Severus lets out a long-suffering sigh, evidently thinking about all the cauldrons that will blow up across the duration of the school year. You can’t help but smile at his exasperation. Admittedly, you share some of it too—especially since the incident yesterday. 

“Thank you for watching over my classes,” Severus says, apropos of nothing. There’s no hint of anything other than sincerity in his voice. You raise an eyebrow at the realization. His lips quirk up ever so slightly and, Merlin, is that a smile? He surprises you even more by placing a hand on your forearm. Ordinarily, you’d appreciate the friendly gesture, but his grip falls right on your untreated burn and you have to wince. Immediately, his eyes are squinted in suspicion. You try to tug your arm back, but his grip is tight on your wrist—thankfully, away from the burn. The professor’s infamous scowl returns. “What did you do?”

You resolutely keep your mouth shut. Unfortunately, Severus isn’t the least bit discouraged. Instead, he grabs your sleeve and delicately rolls it up. The marred skin on your forearm is revealed and Severus shakes his head in irritated disbelief. 

“To be fair, I didn’t do anything,” you feel the need to establish. Severus pinches the bridge of his nose. You decide to continue speaking, even though his expression is quickly turning from annoyed to fuming. “Remember the cauldron I mentioned? Yes, well… Mr. Longbottom had a bit of an accident.”

Severus’s grip on your wrist becomes bruising and you hiss. He removes his hand, but the indignant expression on his face doesn’t fade. His fists are clenched at his sides and his scowl is the angriest you’ve seen. It looks as if he’s moments away from stalking over to the Gryffindor Common Room and taking points from the Longbottom boy. 

“Severus,” you chide him. You’ve been meaning to talk to him about his treatment of Neville Longbottom. The Gryffindor is absolutely terrified of the Potions professor. Now that you’re on the topic, you might as well mention it. “Actually—” The rest of the words disintegrate on your tongue, as you catch the murderous expression on the professor’s face. He glares at you and you fall silent. Now might not be the best time, you realize. 

Severus starts to walk away. He doesn’t offer a single word of explanation, but you follow after him because it seems like the right thing to do. A few moments later, you find yourself standing in front of his Potions stores. Severus lets out a long suffering sigh and climbs the ladder to the top shelf with practiced ease, grabbing Burn-Healing Paste and another vial before shouldering past you in the doorway. You take a step back and watch him lock the space, before following him into his office. It takes you a few moments to realize why he hasn’t dismissed you yet. 

“This really isn’t necessary,” you feel the need to say, once you realize that Severus is going to apply the paste for you. “I’m perfectly capable—” you break off at the cynical expression on his face, which  suggests exactly how incapable he thinks you are. Severus silently takes a few steps forward, leaving you to hesitantly backpedal until you’re forced to lean back against his desk. He makes quick work of rolling up your sleeve; you’re not given even a word of warning before the paste is being deposited onto your arm. You manage to keep quiet, despite the sudden shock. The paste is weirdly cold, and it almost immediately soaks into your skin. You stare down at it in fascination. 

“Thank you, Severus—” You move to get up, only for your colleague to push you back with a firm hand. You let your free hand fall to the desk behind you, feeling a sudden urge to brace yourself. Severus doesn’t seem to pay you any mind, as his gaze is honed in on your forearm. He procures the vial from earlier and picks up the pipette to place the amber liquid on your skin. At your questioning gaze, Severus explains. 

“Anti-scarring solution.”

“Severus, I don’t care if it scars,” you try to say. 

“Merlin forbid you mar your flawless skin,” Severus interjects, complete with a scoff and an intense eye-roll. The wording sounds a little familiar, but it takes you a moment to place it. Once you realize that he’s repeating something Lockhart said to you a few days ago— “You have such flawless skin!” —you can’t help but choke on a quiet laugh. 

“He’s rather friendly, isn’t he?” you muse aloud. Severus visibly stiffens at that, for some reason. Tension suddenly settles in the air, heavy and palpable amidst the quiet of his office. You can’t help but feel as if you’ve just done something wrong—you’re just not sure what it is. 

“More than friendly,” Severus states mildly. You want to ask him about the unreadable expression on his face (and the inexplicable glimmer in his eyes), but he places a healthy amount of salve on your arm and you flinch at the stinging sensation it creates. Lockhart had touched your forearm there, too. Whilst his touch incited disgust and discomfort within you, Severus’s touch makes your heart race. 

“Okay, thank you—” You try to escape again, feeling a bit flustered by the intense gaze he has pointed at you. The Potions professor doesn’t respond verbally, instead leveling you with such a malicious glare that any more objections fall to dust in your mouth. Severus returns his attention to your forearm, a roll of bandages in one hand as the other hand gently extends your arm. A shiver rolls down your spine. Time drags on like a viscous sludge, and you’re a prisoner to its whims. All you can hear is Severus’s calm, measured breaths; all you see is the careful manner with which he handles you, as if you’re made of glass. 

“Thank you, Severus," you breathe once the bandages are secured around your forearm. You swear you feel his hands linger for the briefest of moments, but you put it down to your imagination. At a loss for words, you end up bidding him a good night and retreating to your own office. Even as you try to immerse yourself in grading your class’s essays, the weight of Severus’s touch and the pressure of his gaze refuses to leave your mind’s eye. You fall asleep that night with your arm prickling, both from the salve and from Severus’s attentive, careful grasp earlier.

The next day, you’re set free from your supervisory duties. While the few days you spent as Potions professor were enjoyable, you’re very relieved they’re over. You’d much rather devote attention to Ancient Runes—a subject you feel you’re more qualified to teach. It’s also nice to have your free periods back. You take the chance to study up on some recent scholarship and walk about the castle, taking in the fresh air that the spring brings. 

Unbeknownst to you, during Potions class with the second-years, Gryffindor House loses a hundred points. When you hear the news at dinner, you can’t help but laugh. You then glance at Severus, unsurprised to find a vindictive smirk tugging at his lips. 

next part

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[yasministration]

Hey I’m the anon that asked about the JJ fic. I’m so sorry i definitely should’ve checked who you wrote for. If it’s ok could you please do the same prompt but with Emily instead? Thank you so much and sorry again

Hey! It's absolutely no worries, there's nothing to apologise for! Your request just reminded me that I had made a list of characters I wrote for but when I went to look for it, I couldn't even find it, so how was I supposed to expect other people to? Anyway, I hope you like the fic!

summary: tatted!reader is new to the team and she talks back to Emily so one day after work Emily corners her and teaches her a lesson about respect. warnings: public sex (parking lot), bratty!reader (i think), fingering, dom!emily (who's also kind of a bitch:)) 1.4k+ wc

When Emily first joined the team, it had taken people time to warm up to her, so she knew the importance of showing kindness and respect to new members of the team. However, when she'd seen you walk through the bullpen doors for the first time, she knew she'd have a problem with you on the team. Not for any personal reasons per se, but rather due to the effect you had on her. Clearly a few years younger than the others on the team, you walked confidently, wearing an all black outfit; trousers and a top with elbow-length sleeves that put no effort in covering the tattoos snaking down your arms. Emily briefly wondered where else you had tattoos that she couldn't see.

"Well that's no good." Had muttered Derek, trying to hide his smirk while looking up at Emily's reaction to you walking in. It didn't take a profiler to figure out she was attracted to you, and unfortunately for her, you were able to read all her signs. Over the first month of you working at the bau, you had pieced together why she could barely hold eye contact with you, avoiding speaking to you altogether until her behaviour completely changed and she started acting bossy towards you, holding eye contact for perhaps a little too long, trying to intimidate you. She was unsuccessful. Even though you didn't mind that she liked you, sharing knowing glances with Derek, who you had quickly grown close to, you didn't appreciate being treated any less nicely than your other teammates due to a little crush.

One day, on a local case in Quantico, you and Emily had been put in charge of getting lunch by the big bossman Hotch, a list of everyone's order written on your phone. "Hey, y/n," Emily started, at the end of a very awkward drive. You hummed, turning your head to face her. "I'm just saying this out of care for you, coworker to coworker. I don't think your tattoos being on display is professional for work. Strauss wouldn't appreciate them." You tried not to let your annoyance show on your face, instead shooting her a smile and saying "Well I'm sure Strauss would appreciate the fact that they don't get in the way of my work, wouldn't she?"

It was obvious to the rest of the team when you returned that tensions between you and Emily were high. Emily tossed the takeaway bags on the table with an irritated sigh, her jaw clenched tightly. You sat on your chair around the circular table in the conference room, tugging your sleeves higher up your arm. "Hey guys," You started smugly "do you think Strauss would have a problem with my tattoos?" You got a mix of responses, starting with JJ's "Well, she hired you so..." And Derek's straightforward "No she shouldn't." while Spencer only stared in confusion, glancing between you and Emily. "Yeah, I didn't think so." You stated, looking straight up across the table where Emily sat, opening her container of food.

That night, you and Emily had been the last to leave, frantically finishing up your reports. It was a silent race, an unspoken battle. You slammed your last file close in victory, running up to Hotch's office to hand it in before packing up your things, hoping to get to the elevator before Emily magically finished her reports too. Fetching your keys out of your bag when the elevator doors opened, you clicked the button to unlock your car, jogging to pull the door open and dropping your bag on the driver's seat when a shout of your name had you shutting the door frustratedly, spinning on your heels. "Oh shit." You mumbled, watching the taller woman storm over to you. You could just get in your car and drive away before she got to you, but... you were intrigued.

You stumbled backwards when she kept on charging your way despite how close she already was to you, your back hitting the cold steel of your car. The woman stood chest to chest with you, a hand coming to rest on your car right next to your head, dropping the bag she carried on the floor next to your feet. "What, so you think it's funny to just call me out like that in front of all my coworkers?" She seethed, her face only inches away from yours. Your breath shook when you replied "Well I wanted to hear their insight on what Strauss would think of my tattoos before I did anything about it." Gasping at the hand grabbing your waist, you couldn't help but glancing down at Emily's lips, licking your own in the heat of the moment

Emily's breath hit your face when she chuckled and you swallowed, thighs clenching slightly. "It's so fucking obvious that you want me." She scoffed, hand on your waist lowering to grip your hip. "Says you. Couldn't make eye contact with me for a month." You squealed when her lips hit yours in a desperate kiss, both your hands coming up to cup her jaw. Emily pushed her knee between your legs, thigh pressing against your pussy, making you gasp. She took the opportunity to slip her tongue in your mouth, moaning when she felt you grind your hips down on her thigh. "Take this as a sign to respect people when they give you advice, okay?" She panted, biting down on your lower lip. You whined, pushing her away from you by the shoulders so you could bite back with "What kind of advice is telling me to cover up my tattoos?"

"Well unless you want me pouncing on you every day, I'd suggest you take it." She whispered before reconnecting your lips together, her hand lowering from the side of your face so she could unbutton your trousers. Tugging Emily closer to you, you briefly separated your lips from hers to whisper "Yeah, no way I'm taking that advice." Your words were cut off into a gasp when Emily slid her fingers under your panties, finding your clit in no time. "Emily, we're gonna get caught!" You whispered, all hints of sass leaving your voice. "Not if you stay quiet sweetheart." She kicked one of your legs to the side, making you spread them further as she rubbed your wetness around your entrance, pressing kisses on your neck.

Probing two fingers at your entrance, she slowly sunk them into your core, observing your face carefully. The second your jaw fell open, a loud whine escaping you, she slapped her free hand on top of your open mouth, quickly averting her gaze to the rest of the parking lot, making sure you in fact would not get caught. "What did I just say?" She angrily muttered, pressing herself against you even more, trapping you between her body and your car. Both your arms moved, one wrapping over her shoulder to help hold you up, the other coming up so you can grip her bicep tightly. Her fingers were quick to move in and out of you, the graphic squelching noises louder than the sounds of pleasure you were making, head leaning back against the cool steel of your black car with your eyes shut tightly.

Desperate for more friction, your thighs squeezed around Emily's hand, a silent plea for more. Her hand didn't budge against your mouth, even when you drooled on it, instead slowing the hand inside you so she could rub your clit with her thumb while thrusting in and out of you. You're sure her hand will start cramping at any moment now. Your brows furrow, and you moan quietly against her, accepting the forehead kisses she gives you as a compromise for trying to stay quiet. You try telling Emily you're going to cum, but your words muffle against her hand. However, she somehow gets the hint from the way you give her a desperate look and your thighs start shaking, moans getting harder to compress. "Shhh, good girl, good girl." She mutters, leaning so close to you her breath hits your ear.

When your quiet moans subside, Emily finally removes her hand from over your mouth, instead using it to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. She lets you catch her breath before pulling out of you, buttoning up your trousers while you observe her quietly. "Thank you." You finally say timidly. Emily grins, leaning in for one last kiss. "How about you let me take you out on a date this weekend." You nod with a laugh, turning around to tug your car door open. "Oh my god, we're so dumb." You gasp, spinning to face Emily again. At her confused expression, you continue, stating "We could have done all of that in my fucking car." Emily laughs, leaning down to pick up her bag before she walks off, calling out "Good night!"

[annemariearcher]

After reading the Dark Era light novel...

I have thoughts about that infamous scene where Dazai punches and shoots at Akutagawa. I've seen a lot of talk about how mean Dazai was in that scene, and how humiliating it must've been for Akutagawa to be put through that in full view of a bunch of PM goons. Which is all true...but I haven't seen much talk about Dazai's perspective during that scene...

A few things popped into my head while I was reading the light novel version of that scene...

Firstly, Akutagawa does fuck up Dazai's plan, but it's so much more complicated than that.

Dazai's plan to capture the Mimic soldiers involves gassing an entire PM gambling den; presumably, he burns that entire revenue-generating business, because who's gonna go back to a gambling den where you might get gassed, after you got shot at by a bunch of mystery soldiers? Nobody. So, Dazai probably costs the PM a good deal of money with this ploy to capture the Mimic guys.

But it works! He catches them. So it's all good...until it isn't. Because one of them wakes up early from the gas and then steals a gun and shoots the other captives. But there's still one guy alive, so they still have a guy to interrogate. Still good!

Until Akutagawa kills the last guy.

Now, I've seen a lot of analysis about how Akutagawa is all about protecting people. He says specifically that he killed the last Mimic guy to protect the other PM goons who were being threatened. Which is all fine and dandy...in theory. But in actuality? Killing that guy ruined Dazai's plan.

And to rub salt in the wound--Dazai's wound--Akutagawa did this after Dazai spent countless training sessions trying to teach Akutagawa specifically not to do that. That being using Rashoumon in an offensive capacity by reflex. In a fatal offensive capacity.

Dazai specifically says in this scene that he's told Akutagawa again and again that he needs to start using Rashoumon in a defensive capacity rather than defaulting to killing people every time he's threatened (or his allies are threatened). This has clearly a been a focus of Akutagawa's training, and yet, at this crucial moment, Akutagawa still fails to break out of that reflex. He kills the attacker yet again, and in so doing, wastes all the effort that Dazai put into catching the Mimic soldiers.

So not only does Dazai's plan to interrogate one of the Mimic soldiers fail, but so does Dazai's plan to train Akutagawa into a more versatile agent of the PM, one capable of more than simply killing everything that gets in his way.

Dazai, whose plans supposedly never fail, fails twice in this one scene. As a strategist counterattacking Mimic, and as a mentor training Akutagawa.

We don't learn what's going on Dazai's head here, since the scene is third person, but I can imagine he's a little upset about all this.

Then we get to part of this scene that riles people up: Dazai punches Akutagawa and shoots at him. A few things struck me when I read this part.

First off, Dazai doesn't punch Akutagawa until Akutagawa talks back to him. Dazai explains to Akutagawa just how and why he messed up, and then Akutagawa goes: "Information? I'll just slice everyone of them into pieces until--"

That's when the punch happens.

Dazai doesn't punch Akutagawa for failing. He punches Akutagawa because Akutagawa rejects his lesson and disrespects him...in front of other people. There are other PM goons in the room, and Akutagawa blatantly disregards an important lesson that Executive Dazai is trying to teach.

If Dazai didn't punish Akutagawa for that disrespect, everybody and their mother in the PM would've known about it by the end of the day. That would've cost Dazai a lot of face. So he punched Akutagawa to keep up his reputation. And then...

Then Dazai shoots at Akutagawa. Not to kill him. But to force him to use Rashoumon reflexively in self-defense, rather than offense.

To force Akutagawa to make the move he should've made when the Mimic soldier threatened him. The move that Dazai had been trying and failing to teach Akutagawa in countless prior training sessions, presumably with methods less potentially fatal than shooting at Akutagawa's face. And it works...shooting at Akutagawa. He develops a new reflex to use Rashoumon in self-defense.

And Dazai actually congratulates him on that progress, if only in a bitter and facetious manner, because that progress didn't occur until after it cost Dazai the success of an important plan.

A plan that Dazai had hoped to use to help his first real friend (Oda) find his other, missing friend (Ango). A plan whose failure Dazai is going to have to explain to Mori. A plan whose failure is going to put a bit of a stain on his whole genius reputation.

Long story short: Dazai is really upset in this scene, but he only shows anger, partly to maintain face as an executive and partly because...well, it's Dazai. He wouldn't show his true feelings even if he could with zero consequences. He's too damaged for that.

We end this scene with Dazai threatening to punch and shoot at Akutagawa again in the future if ever fails in a similar way again. If he ever flubs one of Dazai's plans again, no matter Akutagawa's intentions. If he ever uses Rashoumon to kill thoughtlessly again, when Akutagawa is perfectly capable of using Rashoumon defensively.

So...is Dazai being abusive to Akutagawa in this scene? Well, yeah. Obviously. This is the mafia. Not a nice place. Punching and shooting a teenage boy is abusive under any circumstances.

But Dazai doesn't do these things because he's "mean." Dazai does those things because he's upset at his own failures. His failure as a strategist to capture and interrogate Mimic soldiers in order to help Oda find Ango. And his failures as a mentor to Akutagawa.

Dazai tries his absolute hardest to turn things around here. He forces Akutagawa to progress in his training, and he manages to scrounge some information off the dead bodies of the Mimic soldiers. But all in all, this scene still represents a multifaceted failure on his part (particularly in his own eyes, I imagine).

And personally, I find that angle way more interesting than just defaulting to "Dark Era!Dazai is cruel." There's so much to Dazai's character. Also, it makes the ending of the Dark Era story so much more tragic, since he also fails to save Oda at the end...as if it wasn't already tragic enough.

Damn...this got longer than I intended.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk?

K. Bye!

[cupofikeu]

𝐈𝐈. OBLIVIOUS

footnote ..technically it was january when i wrote this so i did make something for my babie ・ lee juyeon x gender netural reader + word count 595 genre fluff .. tutor x tutee .. lovestruck jock warnings he’s so cute.. so gullible too :3

there’s no need to say it aloud, juyeon knows what you think of him. he’s a varsity jock, an adored figure among the student body, a sinking case that your professor dumped on you in the hopes you can perform a miracle. and whilst juyeon’s concerns are supposed to revolve around his lifting his grades in time for the upcoming championship, proving to you that he’s not a blockhead matters more than potentially being benched.

too bad he’s still stuck on question three.

“need some help, lee?” you ask, ever so astute in your surroundings.

his mind registers the question, his lips hold no answers.

it’s standard practice; checking in on him from time to time. and yet, all he can think about was how your voice chimes in his ears like the cute keychains adorning your bag. ten minutes of staring at his worksheet, callused fingers steadily roaming across the surface like an invisible highlighter, with no answer in sight can do that to the brain.

juyeon, he corrects you.. in his head. if the confidence he exhibited on the court and around his friends bled into his interactions with you, he’d ask why everyone else got the privilege of being called by their name. he doesn’t mean to sound needy, not when he’s merely another tutee to you, but he can’t refrain from hoping you’ll say his name too.

maybe i could—

“yes please,” he smiles sheepishly and nudges the paper back to you. “i thought i understood the question. but now i have to actually write down my answer, it’s kinda confusing.”

—consider asking next time.

for a moment, juyeon indulges himself in the idea that you’re deliberately shuffling across your seat to be closer to him. it’s a risk—daydreaming about you when you’re right there, maneuvering his arm so you can read the rest of the text. rather than his heart’s pitter patters, he listens intently to the way you murmur in consideration.

“well, why don’t you start by defining the important term in the question? based on what you understand from the lessons, what is globalization?” you suggest, “once you make your own definition, you can list the pros and cons that it has brought to the religious practices here.”

“oh..” oh, he definitely made this harder for himself.

in a bid to sound so intelligent—so on par with you—he looked too deep into the question. it didn’t need to be answered with philosophical concepts and complex terms. rather, he could rely on his observations and stock knowledge—things he could have used ten minutes ago.

forget sinking, juyeon’s pretty sure he’s close to brushing his fingertips across the rock bottom.

“don’t stress your pretty mind over it,” you’re sweet, and just a little ignorant of his reddening ears. “if you get stuck again on any other questions, ask me.”

“are you sure? what if you explain something, and i still don’t understand something?” juyeon begins to ramble. “what if i end up taking more of your time? i don’t want to pull you away from other priorities—”

“then take it, i don’t mind.”

maybe juyeon doesn’t actually know how you perceive him. come on, is he aware of how eager and swift you were to snap up this opportunity? has he noticed the effort you put into keeping the window after each tutoring session empty, in case he needs more time? is he aware that your guilty pleasure is calling him by his last name, just to watch his lil’ nose crinkle and rosy lips pout?

maybe he isn’t stupid; definitely oblivious.

𓆩♡𓆪 ─┈ forehead kisses (w/ consent) for @stealanity @yudaies

[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 6: In the Margins

A/N:

hiiiii, long time no see. I'm so sorry for the long wait between chapters. Life has been life-ing and the creative block has been real.

Fair warning for this chapter, it's a little heavy, especially compared to the tone of the previous chapters. TW for mentions of child neglect. I truly don't know how I feel about this chapter, but I could agonize over things forever, so I just need to post it. Every time I read it back, it's like my brain isn't processing the words, so maybe I just need some time where I'm not staring at it lol. I hope you enjoy, and I hope to be updating more frequently again, although I'm about to move halfway across the country in a few weeks, so it may be jussst a second.

Thank you all for all of the incredible comments and encouragements you've left on this little story. I have people asking me about updates constantly and saying the kindest things, and it really means the world to me.

Song: In the Margins by Ani DiFranco

---

If you were being honest, you were expecting your newfound truce with Melissa to last all of three seconds. You definitely had more respect for the short woman and you hoped she could say the same about you. But you’d almost exclusively seen the hot-headed and abrasive side of her. You didn’t have much confidence in your shaky alliance.

And yet, to your utter surprise, you made it to lunch without a single argument or rude remark. Now that the older woman was actually willing to communicate with you, the morning passed quickly in a flurry of worksheets, raised hands, and coloring pages. 

She hadn’t been kidding about letting you teach Science, either. The red-head sauntered up to your desk and placed her lesson plan in front of you. “We’re gonna brush up on the water cycle today, both grades could use it,” she tells you, crossing her arms and leaning her hip against your desk. Her cat eye glasses were perched carefully on top of her head. Gesturing toward the binder with a nod, she said, “Go ahead and look it over, lemme know if ya have any questions. I’ll stick around and grade some papers back here so I can step in if ya start to flounder up there,” she says with a sly twinkle in her eyes. You could tell she was teasing, and you wondered if she was making a concerted effort to make it obvious. You find yourself teasing her right back. 

“Oh, you’d like to watch me fail, wouldn’t you, Schemmenti?” you say mischievously, shaking your head and pulling her lesson plan toward you to glance over it. “Prepare to be amazed.” She hits you with a crafty look, a smirk gracing her lips as she shifts her weight off of your desk and back to her feet. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she says, her tone light. It felt like Melissa was genuinely sizing you up for the first time since you’d met. You feel something swelling in your chest, a sort of determination. You realize with no small amount of surprise that you want the fiery woman’s approval. 

“Okay my little eagles,” she calls out to the class as she moves away from your desk. “Put away your maps and get out your science folders.” Responses were mixed as the sound of papers shuffling filled the room; some cheered in anticipation of their favorite subject, while others groaned in disdain. 

“I know,” she responded to the scattered groans. “Some of youse aren’t big on science. But you’ve got a special guest teaching today, so I want you to be on your best behavior, ‘kay?”

You may have spent very little time actually getting to know Melissa, but you made up for it with how well you’d gotten to know her kids. As you made your way up to the front of the class, you shot Melissa wink. She snorted humorously in response.

The lesson went even better than you’d hoped. You knew exactly how to keep them engaged by adjusting your teaching style in the moment when attention started to drift. You kept things entertaining by being animated and using funny voices, and although you’d rather die than admit it, you couldn’t help but feel pride when you caught a deeper chuckle mixed in with the chorus of giggles. You were so engrossed in the lesson, you were completely caught off guard by the bell ringing, signaling the end of the day. 

Melissa jumped, apparently also having lost track of time. “Okay everybody, clean up and grab your bags quick, okay? Don’t forget about your math homework!” The students wasted no time, eager to end their school days and go home. In the midst of the chaotic flurry, you made your way to her and caught her eye as she stood from behind her desk.

“Well?” you asked expectantly, fighting to keep a cocky smirk off of your face.

She gave you a quick up and down that made your cheeks warm. She was playfully sizing you up, pretending to think about what to say. Her eyes landed on yours as she finally replied, “Not too shabby, kid.” 

“Not too shabby?” you said incredulously, crossing your arms. “That was awesome and you know it!” 

“Alright,” she relented with a chuckle, mirroring your body language by sassily crossing her arms and popping her hip. “I guess it was pretty awesome.” You couldn’t keep the grin off of your face then, the pride swelling in your chest. “What are you subbing around town for when you got the chops to teach your own class?”

“I like the variety,” you admitted. “I get to spend time making connections at different schools and I get to work with kids of all ages. I even like middle school,” you said with a knowing smile. “Everyone always says teaching middle schoolers is the worst, but I think it’s because they remind us of how embarrassing we used to be.”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve always been cool,” Melissa says confidently. Then she shoots you a grin and says, “I bet you were a total dweeb.”

“Hey!” You say, immediately indignant. “I wasn’t a dweeb!” You wrack your brain for some kind of defense before begrudgingly muttering, “I was a nerd, and there’s a distinct difference.” Her genuine laugh brought heat to your cheeks; it was a sound you’d be playing on repeat in your head for days.

—---------------------

The rest of the week was much the same as your Monday afternoon. Things were going smoothly, and you and Melissa operated in tandem like a well oiled machine. You’d grown closer as colleagues, trading jokes and even offering the occasional word of encouragement here or there when one of you sensed the other becoming frustrated. You found yourself thoroughly enjoying the red head’s company now, and you suspected she felt similarly. 

It was exactly a week later you sat at your desk during the kids’ lunchtime, your own lunchbox in front of you, forgotten as you graded spelling tests. Melissa was on lunch duty with the class, which meant you were afforded at least half an hour of blissful silence. You loved your job, but you were only human. 

Movement near the doorway caught your attention and you glanced up. Your eyes landed on one of your third grade students, Tyler, lingering in the doorway, gaze glued to his shoelaces. Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Hey Tyler,” you said cheerily, smiling. “What’s up? You’re missing out on your favorite class of the day: lunch.”

Tyler didn’t respond. He kept his eyes trained on his shoes, hands fidgeting nervously in front of him. Your eyebrows drew together in concern. “Tyler?” you prompted again gently. “Are you okay?”

He mumbled something in response that you didn’t quite catch. Slowly, you stood up from your chair and made your way over to him, kneeling down so you were at eye level. “Can you say that again, bud? I didn’t hear what you said. You know, losing my hearing in my old age,” you joked. You saw his lips twitch in spite of himself. The kids loved any joke about a teacher’s age. 

He was silent for a moment longer before he muttered, “I’m not hungry.” You grew increasingly concerned, worried he might be feeling sick, but before you could reach a hand up to feel his forehead, a loud rumble emanated from his stomach. You raised an eyebrow before stating, “Sounds to me like you are hungry.” He held a small hand against his stomach, his little face screwed up in annoyance at his stomach’s betrayal. “Is there something else going on, Tyler?” you urged.

“I got in trouble for stealing Tamika’s lunch,” he admitted reluctantly. 

You frowned. “Why did you steal Tamika’s lunch?” 

“Because I ate all of mine and I was still hungry,” he replies. He sounded remorseful, whether because he was caught or because he was really sorry, you weren’t sure. But something felt off to you. Call it a spidey-sense, or just plain intuition, something in your gut told you there was a bigger picture here you weren’t seeing. The lunches at Abbott were far from perfect, but the lunchroom staff worked hard to make certain each of these kids had enough food on the table. Maybe Tyler was hitting a growth spurt… 

You watched him fidget, obviously expecting to be reprimanded by you. Instead, you asked, “What did you have for breakfast this morning?” He looked up at you finally, not expecting the question. He glanced away just as quickly, suddenly finding the multiplication table pinned to the wall interesting. “Tyler?” you nudged gently.

“I didn’t eat breakfast,” he says quietly. You felt your stomach sink with dread and anticipation as you asked, “Well, when was the last time you ate? What did you have for dinner last night?” He didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Your heart grew heavy with the realization that it was likely that Tyler’s only meal of the day was the free lunch he was getting at Abbott. 

For the first time since you started substitute teaching, you were at a loss as to what to do. As a sub, it wasn’t often you encountered situations like this. You never stayed in one spot long enough. But you’d been at Abbott going on three weeks now, which was longer than you were used to.

Surely you were meant to report this. Calling CPS would create a huge upheaval in his life. But if he was being neglected, you needed to tell someone. You felt a familiar pressure behind your eyes as your thoughts started to spiral, and you stood abruptly, taking a few deep breaths to fight off the building tears. One thing you knew for certain, you couldn’t cry in front of him. Your eyes darted around the room as your brain kicked into overdrive, trying to figure out what exactly you should do. They landed on your untouched lunch.

You bit your lip, knowing that what you were about to do wasn’t strictly allowed. Teachers giving students food was iffy, but especially in instances where the food wasn’t approved by the administration for the whole class. Still, you had a student in front of you who was possibly being neglected at home; how could you not feed him while you figured things out? One more audible grumble from Tyler’s stomach sealed the deal, and you turned back to your desk, unzipping your lunchbox and pulling out your peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

You hesitated briefly, glancing up at Tyler. “You’re not allergic to peanuts, are you?”

He had been watching you as you’d moved, and when you asked him this, he shook his head emphatically. You extended your hand, holding the sandwich out to him. “You can have this, if you want it. It’s a PB&J.” He stood still, staring at the offered food, before slowly walking over. 

“I can have it?” he asked hesitantly, and your heart cracked a bit inside of your chest. He’d come to this room thinking he’d get in even more trouble. 

“You can have it,” you confirmed, forcing a smile to hide the crushing weight of the revelations you’d just made. You didn’t know what to do, you didn’t know if what he’d revealed to you was even enough to go on, but you knew he was hungry, and you knew you had a responsibility to take care of these kids. You could fix one problem in the moment; you’d be damned if you didn’t do just that. 

He tentatively took the sandwich from you and begane unwrapping the plastic wrap. As he did so, he mumbled a quiet, “Thank you.” You held that smile in place, trying your hardest to make him feel better.

“You’re welcome, Tyler. How about you go sit at your desk, and I’ll take you out to recess when you’re done, okay?” He gave you a quick nod, already biting into the sandwich as he moved to sit. You could feel your pulse ringing in your ears, your brain trying to make sense of the information you’d just learned. You were a mandated reporter, and in reality, you didn’t need anything other than suspicion to report to Child Protective Services. But it wasn’t a decision to take lightly - there were any number of ways a report like that could play out. 

It briefly crossed your mind that Tyler could be lying, but even though you’d spent a short time with him, you had a lot of experience with kids. There was a difference between a kid who was lying to get something they wanted and a kid who wasn’t telling the truth because they were scared to. Tyler was quiet. He played with the other kids, but he didn’t seem to have one group of friends he stayed with. He struggled with his school work, but a lot of kids struggled with school work. 

As you watched him, you noted the fit of his school uniform - it was loose on him. That didn’t mean he was malnourished; a lot of kids at Abbott wore hand-me-down uniforms from older siblings because the uniforms were expensive. You wondered if you really were reading into things too much, but the gnawing feeling in your gut told you it didn’t matter; you had to tell someone. 

You’d never done anything like this before. But surely Melissa would know what to do. You wondered if she’d ever noticed anything. She was one of the best teachers at this school, maybe one of the best you’d ever met; you find it hard to believe she wouldn’t have noticed anything. But this wasn’t a typical school year for her at Abbott. She had twice as many kids to keep track of, twice as much work to grade… it’s not impossible to think something like this may have slipped by her.

So deep in thought and trying to make sense of what you should do, you didn’t notice Tyler approach your desk until he was right in front of you. You jumped when he spoke, pulling you out of your ruminations. 

“I’m done eating,” he said.

“Looks like it! Was that sandwich okay?” you asked gently as you stood. He nodded his head enthusiastically.

“It was the best PB&J ever. You should open a PB&J food truck!”

“Oh, I should, should I?” you replied, giggling in spite of everything. “Would you be my first customer?”

“Yeah!” he said shyly as he followed you into the hallway and toward the parking lot where recess took place. “I would eat there all the time.”

“You’ll be the first to know when I open. Maybe I’ll even name it after you, since it was your idea. ‘Tyler’s PB&J Paradise!’ How does that sound?” you asked.

“That sounds good,” he said, a small smile on his face.

You opened the door for him, stepping outside into the parking lot. You looked to your right to see Melissa and Janine on recess duty. Janine was talking about something or other, and Melissa was pretending to listen as she watched the kids play, her arms folded. “Hey, Jeremy! No shovin’!” she shouted, her powerful voice carrying across the parking lot. She glanced over at you, surprise on her face as she noticed Tyler with you. “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” she said with a polite smile. She leaned into you, her lips close to your ear, her warm breath brushing your skin.  “Sorry I didn’t give you a heads up, but I figured you’d have some words of advice for Tyler about how stealin’ lunches is wrong,” she whispered slyly. 

You scoffed grumpily. “I never stole anyone’s lunch,” you whispered back, exasperated. She just chuckled, leaning out of your space again. You tried not to think about wanting her to stay in it. As she pulled away, you glanced down at Tyler, your heart sinking again.

“Hey bud,” you said, a gentle hand on his back. “Why don’t you go have some fun, okay?” He nodded in response and turned to go. But something stopped him, and he turned back. He didn’t look at you as he said, “Thank you for the sandwich.” Then he darted away, running toward a group of boys playing soccer on the far side of the parking lot. 

You only watched him for a moment before Melissa’s voice drew your attention again. “What’d he say?” she asked. Her tone was laced with a bit of confusion. You looked at her, her eyebrows drawn together and a small frown on her lips. 

“Actually, do you think I could talk to you in private for a second?” you asked her, glancing toward Janine, who was trying to look like she wasn’t listening. She failed miserably when she answered before Melissa could. 

“I can watch the kids!” she said cheerily. Melissa, faced away from Janine, rolled her eyes affectionately. 

“Alright,” she said, turning to go inside. You reached the door before she did, holding it open for her. She shot you a look with a raised eyebrow, and without thinking, you replied with a nervous joke. “I always open the door for ladies.” This caused her to snort and crack a smile. 

“Suave,” she said teasingly. Your face felt warm as you stepped into the air conditioning. 

You both made your way to your classroom, your pulse picking up with the anxiety of the hard conversation you were about to have. As you stepped into the classroom, you shut the door behind you. Melissa leaned against her desk, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “So, whaddaya wanna talk about?”

Your eyes locked onto hers, emerald and bright. You felt shaky as you finally allowed yourself to release some of the dread and worry you’d been feeling. One steadying breath before you stated, “I think Tyler might be neglected at home.” 

Immediate concern crossed Melissa’s face. “What?” she asked. “What makes you say that?”

“When he came into the room, he tried to tell me he wasn’t hungry. But I could hear his stomach growling, so I asked him what was really going on. He told me he tried to take Tamika’s lunch because he ate his and was still hungry. I thought maybe he’s in a growth spurt or something, but… he told me the last time he’d eaten was lunch yesterday.” Your voice gradually became more distressed as you continued. “He’s so quiet, he struggles with his school work, his clothes are big on him, but I never thought anything of it. You can explain away all of those things - he’s shy, plenty of kids struggle in school, hand-me-downs. But when I looked at him, when he told me? He wasn’t lying about not eating, Melissa. I gave him my sandwich to hold him over, but I have to report this, right?” Your chest was rising rapidly as you became more worked up.

She was silent for a moment, digesting everything you’d just told her. Finally, she spoke. “You gave him your own food?”

“What?” you asked incredulously. “That’s what you took from that?” Her tone was pointed, and you felt your anger rising. You just told her one of her students might be neglected at home, and she was reprimanding you for feeding him?

“I heard what you said, kid. It’s serious. You shouldn’ta given him your food-” 

“I asked him if he was allergic to peanuts before I gave it to him!” you cut her off angrily, volume rising. “Sorry my priority was feeding the hungry kid who isn’t being fed at home! Do you even hear yourself right now?”

“Hey!” Melissa replied sharply, moving forward slightly as she shifted her weight. “Can I finish what I’m tryna say here? I’m not writin’ ya off!” There was color in her cheeks, something you hadn’t seen since your last huge fight. You could feel your control slipping, the indignation and disbelief at her response making you furious. But before you could blow up everything you’d both built over the last two weeks, she cut you off. 

“ You shouldn’ta given him your own food,” she bit out, “because we have a system here for stuff like that.” The words hit you, and as they registered in your mind, you deflated like air being let out of a balloon. She raised an eyebrow as if daring you to speak before continuing, her tone a bit more subdued. “We got an arrangement with the lunch ladies. If we think a kid isn’t gettin’ enough to eat, we set ‘em up to get somethin’ extra at the end of each day to take home, and then we file a report with CPS. Givin’ kids food from home is a liability - I know ya asked about allergies, but what if he got sick and his parents found out it was from the food you gave him? That’s a mess ya don’t wanna get caught up in.” 

You let her words sink in, your shoulders sagging as the fight completely leaves your body. “It doesn’t happen all that often,” she continues. “But I’ve been teaching long enough, this isn’t the first time something like this has come up.” You roll her words over in your mind, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. 

After a few moments, you mutter, “Sorry. I’m not handling this very well.” You glance up and are surprised by what you see. Melissa’s looking at you in a way she hasn’t before - soft, gentle. Understanding. Empathetic. She sees how hard this realization is for you, how difficult it is being confronted with a student who isn’t getting the love and care they deserve. She understands because she’s been there before. You feel that pressure behind your eyes return, and quickly glance away from her, fighting to keep it contained. “So... we do need to report it.”

“Yeah,” she confirms quietly. “We gotta report it. Even if it’s just a suspicion. It doesn’t mean they’ll go knockin’ down his door, but it’s a paper trail and it’s important.” You’re both silent for a moment, the weight of everything smothering. Then, Melissa scoffs self deprecatingly. “Can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots. I shoulda caught this, paid more attention to him or somethin’.” Your eyes snap up to her face, the self-admonishment clear as day. 

“Stop,” you said firmly, stepping forward without even realizing it. “Don’t do that. Any other year, you’d have picked up on it. But you’ve got twice as many kids, twice as much responsibility. Besides, there’s no guarantee he’s actually being neglected at home…” you trail off. That sounds weak, even to your ears. Still, you won’t have her blaming herself. “And that’s my job, right? I’m here to help you.”

Her green eyes meet yours, still soft. She offers you a small smile, one that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, but a smile nevertheless. You give her one in return, but it drops as you somberly confess to her. “I’ve never had to file a report like this before.” Her eyes search your face, her brows drawn together compassionately. Before you realize what’s happening, she reaches out and grabs your arm, giving it a firm squeeze.

“I’ll do it with ya,” she says, her voice resolute and steady. “The rest of today isn’t gonna be an easy one. But when it’s over, we’ll go talk to the lunch ladies, and then report our suspicions.” Her thumb rubs soothingly against your skin. “I know it’s hard. You’re doing the right thing.” One final squeeze, and she lets you go. You felt the absence of the contact acutely.

Still holding her gaze, aware of the pounding in your chest and unsure if it’s from her or from today’s events, you earnestly murmur a quiet thank you. “Don’t mention it,” she replies gently. When you woke up this morning, you never would have guessed the turn today would take. Your heart ached for this child, and for any other kids like him. Most of the students at Abbott had good lives, families who cared. But there were those who didn’t, and you now had to grapple with the fact that there was only so much you could do to help them. 

As you returned to the parking lot, you watched the steadfast and stubborn redhead from the corner of your eye. You felt your heart swell. You never doubted that she cared for her kids, but the support she’d offered you today was a stark contrast to the woman you’d met a few weeks ago. Proof Melissa Schemmenti had a soft side. You were grateful you wouldn’t have to do this alone; and even more grateful that she would be the one to be there with you. Something had shifted between the two of you, and you thought, for the first time since meeting her, that you could possibly become friends. 

[seishiroses]

Taking a break + some personal thoughts + a little thank you note 🤍

Nagi fans, how are we doing?

Personally I am ready to end myself (been ready for five chapters now)...is what I would have said ordinarily, but instead, I will put down a few last thoughts before I pause this blog for some time.

The only one I can share without crying though is that I will always fondly remember how for a little while in 2025, both the main manga and Episode Nagi...ESSENTIALLY BECAME EPISODE NAGI 😅❤️🤍

Who would have thought.

When I started reading Blue Lock back in 2022/23, and realised that Nagi was the character I relate to the most, I never imagined that his arc would be such an emotional roller coaster. Even though he was an easy favourite and the primary reason why I continued to watch/read Blue Lock, I expected nothing more than cute-nonchalant-football-genius, and I would have been happy enough with that.

Yet, in return I got to love and enjoy (and cry my eyes out over) such a relatable, introspective, complex and beautiful character whose story has so much depth and breaks many stereotypes of what a shonen sports manga fan-favourite should be like. So as much as it hurts right now, I am so grateful.

However, since the character is very close to how I feel myself and how I face things in real life, I will take a break from reading/posting about him rather than risk projecting onto him as I would hate to become so intensely affected by what is, at the end of the day, fiction.

I have always been pleasantly surprised at the amount of engagement I received for a blog that only posts about a single character and does nothing else. Thank you. 🤍

Nagi has always been a divisive character. At different points in the story, whether he chose ambition over attachment or comfort over ambition, or honesty over kindness, there was always criticism and debate over his actions, words or lack thereof. And since subtlety is often punished in fandoms that crave loud, dramatic traits, I never expected the creators to invest so much time and effort into developing Nagi's story specifically.

But it makes me happy that they did and that so many people like Nagi. Because it makes me feel that even if he is not real, if there is a place in the world for someone like him, there can be a place in the world for someone like me too (I am aware that it is obviously dumb to even compare myself to an attractive, talented, fictional anime boy, but in terms of his personality and lack of motivation that contributes to his isolation and existential crisis, he is very realistic for me). So I will always root for him.

Even in terms of the art, despite the sadness of the latest chapter, I loved returning to the outside world and admiring Nomura-san's skill and range in drawing both the urban landscape and school architecture, not to mention his use of highlights and shadows to bring out Nagi's emotions on every page. It is such a beautifully drawn chapter, with a softness and a heaviness, despite having none of the usual football action or high stakes drama. I won't post any panels or get into those last few pages though. Maybe sometime in the future I can talk about them in more detail.

So that's all really. I don't talk to anyone but I will miss all of you. I don't have any mutuals but I was happy for every small interaction I had on here. Sometimes I would recognise usernames that kept showing up in the notifs, like saying hi to a friend every few days. In small ways, it made me happy.

Hopefully when enough time has passed, I can once again post Nagi pictures and small analyses without feeling so emotionally attached or anxious. But until then, I hope I can work hard in my own life and find ways to keep up my own motivation, even when I'm alone. And for anyone else who struggles with that, I wish you all the best as well. Failure is a life lesson, never the end. 🤍

[siriuslychessi]

Spotlight

For the August @jilychallenge

AO3 | FF

“I only have feelings for you because we’ve been acting as a couple on this show that we’ve grown up together on since we were eleven…I think…”

The words on the script made James’ palms sweat, he was not sure if in a good or bad way, he just felt the profuse sweating making the page stick to his skin and he did not like the sensation, the reaction to the words on the page felt foreign to him as he kept reading. 

“And are we sure this is where Gilderoy wants the show to go to?” James asked, hoping his voice was steady. He had had a few awkward moments while his voice was changing as he grew up in the show, but he was over it by now. He didn’t want the uneasiness to show in his voice. 

“Yes, he did a previous revision, but that remains the same, he checked with Albus as well.” Kingsley informed James, as the younger man took a pen from his pocket, clicking it a couple of times out of nerves and habit, before writing his own notes on the margins of the script. 

“Any directions from Dumbledore? Or is he just trying to play it by ear?” James asked, pausing in his notes to look at Shacklebolt. 

Kingsley shrugged, “At the moment he wants to see how it plays out, you two have been playing with these characters for a while now. You know them better than anyone.” he admitted, and James nodded. 

“Thank you,” James said absentmindedly, as Kingsley left to prepare for filming. He was still thinking about the words on the page, and the scene he would have to participate in sooner rather than later.

Being in a show since before your voice changed did a lot to impact a young boy’s life. Instead of school and classmates, you had private lessons and castmates that felt more like family than random people in a place of work. And that also meant that small grudges grew over time, or changed into something else entirely.

At the moment he was uncertain of how the grudges and feelings had evolved as he read the script in his hands.

James had to admit that acting was just about him getting his energy out, a way to express himself, and for his parents to keep him occupied. Or it was like that at the beginning. He never thought that he would make a career out of it, no one at 11 thinks of a job or the responsibility it carries, at least not like adults do. But the more he acted, the more he enjoyed it, and the better he wanted to be. 

He started taking his career more seriously, took acting lessons, asked a lot of questions on direction, and requested feedback from older actors and more experienced people in the industry. It was quite the change from his previous stance of ‘I’ll do it because it’s fun, besides no one would fire the cute main lead’. A change that many have seen as a positive improvement and actually welcome and encourage it. 

Sirius, his best friend in set and life, had found it annoying at first, James and him used to do a lot of shenanigans around set, and he always teased him for his new found work ethic. He had to admit that Sirius put little effort on the craft but was an amazing actor all the same, always brought emotion to the characters he played, however, was more passionate about their band than acting, and was always teasing James about his new purchased books and courses.

James had tried to share his interest with his best mate, and Sirius reluctantly had taken a few of the books with him. The teasing persisted but James could see Sirius’ curiosity spiking at new theories and techniques, even if the other man preferred to write lyrics than study lines.

Sirius was also privy, as was his other close friend Remus, about the difficulty to work with one Lily Evans. She was the co-star of the show, and had it out for James since day one when he tried to do a trick on a skateboard and managed to ruin her big-scene dress. James had never managed to outlive that. 

Their relationship had been odd from the start, Lily had decided that James was the worse person to step in the set, and the fact that they had so many scenes together didn’t help improve her perception, neither did the numerous pranks that James had played on her and her former friend Snape, who used to be part of the cast.

James had learned not to prank people over the years, or at least to be more conscious of the types of pranks that were done. But he believed the damage was done and his and Lily’s relationship was one that would only blossom on screen. 

However, that might be the nerves talking. Lily in reality had grown fond of the boys, especially after Snape left and he was not whispering how annoying the rest of the cast was. She managed to see how witty James was, Sirius' intelligence and knowledge of music and business, and Remus' interesting facts and inherited sweetness. She had grown fond of all of them, and she hoped that they could see that they had outgrown the annoying little children they all used to be. 

Not only because of the work, that was easier to do when everyone got along, but because she wanted to be friends with people she spent the majority of the time with. To have meaningful relationships that would last them more than just a set life. 

If James had bothered to go find Lily, instead of getting anxious about asking Sirius’ some questions regarding the upcoming scene, he would have seen that Lily was almost in the same predicament as him. Pondering on the words written on the pages, and how she felt about it. 

Lily read the whole episode again. According to the notes from the director, her character was nervous, which she wouldn’t even have to act at that point. She had been pacing in her trailer with the pages in hand since receiving them. Her and James’ character had always had a more friendly relationship, sometimes annoying each other, sometimes too close to believe that they were just part of the same friend group, and now, their relationship was going to define what they were. 

Lily was not sure how she felt about how definitive it all felt.

In all the time Lily had been in the show all she thought was making her family proud, her friends outside of the business proud, and to do a good job, because she understood how many little girls would feel related to her character and that felt like a huge responsibility but it made her excited to come to work every day. 

It was hard to go through puberty in a show that had mostly male actors, and where the one she thought was a close friend turned out to be creepy and not at all friendly. She had to deal with a lot, and she was thankful that she had Mary for most of it. But she knew that she had annoyed her best mate when talking about James. 

James had always been a topic for Lily, after all they had a lot of scenes together, but it had fluctuated from annoyance to friendship so much that her feelings were muddled and her thoughts waver from one side of her feelings to the other. She knew that going to Mary in these circumstances was not advisable, as her friend would probably tease again that she had always had a crush on Potter, just as much as the crush she had on Black on and off screen. 

Lily was not ready to deal with all of it. 

The lights on set made the chilly day of March feel toasty. Lily believed that the studio didn’t need the central heating with the hard lights on them. It was a miracle that the makeup stayed put under that heat, and it was the second time under the same lights that she felt like trembling from nerves. 

The first time she was eleven and it was her first big show, she had been wanting to prove herself with the network’s executives. She thought she would butch all her lines, and to be honest she could have given herself more space to mess up and enjoy. She was eleven, a few lines missed or misspoken would not be the end of the world. 

Yet, it felt like the world was ending. 

But then, there was this boy, with messy hair and thick glasses, that made everyone in the set laugh, and was apologetic about missing his queues, or even fidgeting with his hair, when he was not supposed to, it would be a mess for editing the show. 

And she was jealous, and furious that this boy could enjoy as much as he wanted, that he could be so casual when she was a mess. 

With time she learned that the tale that James’ messing with his hair meant he was nervous, and the jokes were half a tale too. He did enjoy making people having a good time, but they could be a distraction from how on edge he was. 

It took Lily a long time to learn these things about James, and the more she knew about him, the more she liked him. 

Which was why she was a mess right before the big scene. 

James grew from the thin little prat, to be a handsome young man. He still made silly jokes, and his hands stopped just as he was about to mess his hair, but his dedication to the job had changed. He was serious about the scenes, he made sure he got notes from the writer and the director; didn’t mind doing retakes when necessary, and was mindful that Lily would be in some of the shoots so he tried his best to stick to script. 

He also remembered the snacks she liked and always brought some to rehearsal, and was sure to warn her of any possible paparazzi on set. He always managed to remember her birthday, and her families’, and was always kind when her sister and her friends gushed to him on set. Something Lily really hated, but seeing him be attentive like that made her stomach twist in weird ways. 

Lily was not alone in her nerves. James was right there with her. 

Lily had been a constant in James’ life, either by scolding him or making him better. He didn’t know exactly when the little annoying girl had transformed into the gorgeous young woman that he had a crush on, but that was where they were at, and now they had a crucial scene together. A scene that was more personal than anything, and he was not sure that he liked that it happened in front of the cameras. 

As James stepped in position he remembered if he properly brushed his teeth, which he had; and he had eaten a mint as well. He tried to not think of how potent, or not, was his deodorant under the heavy set lights, and all in all he tried to be presentable not only for the job but for the scene.

“I guess we are doing this.” he mumbled, more to himself than to anyone. 

“We certainly are, Potter.” Lily replied with a smile, that made James’ nerves shake even harder. 

“Everyone ready, we’ll be rolling, so silence in the set!” James heard the voice of Kingsley in the background, but was focused on Lily’s green eyes, and the rose tinted lips that were glossed for the scene and the cameras. 

Lily looked back at him, her lips moving as if to say something. But James mind did not register any of what was being set, his mind focused on her lips and expression. 

“Matt?” he finally heard what Lily had said, it was the name of his character, the one that he had been playing for so long that he almost replied when he heard it. 

“I’m sorry, but what did you mean by that?” He knew what the line was, and Lily and himself had improvised in the past, knowing that stopping the take might delay the production more than just a tiny messed up line. 

“Well, how do you know it is me you fancy? I thought you were dating Nancy.” Lily’s voice carried, and James remembered the plot where their love triangle with Sirius’ character became even more complex. 

“I am not. I’m not dating anyone.” he sounded sincere because in reality he wasn’t, there was no one he wanted to date but his co-star, but he knew she didn’t like him that way. However, just for a moment he could pretend that these were not the characters talking. “There’s no one else, it’s you, Audrey, it’s always been you.” 

For a brief moment James wished that it was Matt, the character, the person saying those words, but himself, to Lily, wonderful and gorgeous Lily. 

That moment passed quickly as her eyes pressured him to move forward, not to stop and continue with the scene. And he did. 

James’ hands moved on their own accord wrapping themselves on Lily’s waist and pulling her closer. He felt her breath on his cheek and her green eyes on him, as if the universe was telling him that his wish of this being a kiss between them was coming true. 

He let his body continue, his nervous thoughts forgotten as his lips touched Lily’s. 

Lily’s arms wrapped around his neck, and her hands moved to his hair, grabbing hold of his nape, keeping him close as her lips reciprocated whatever he was giving.

She tasted like cherry lip gloss and something sweet like vanilla and apple tart. 

He tasted like mint and those dark chocolates he was always snacking during takes.

Lily’s apple shampoo and her flowery perfume mixed with James’ senses, as James’  musky scent made her want to pull him closer and taste more of his lips and feel more of his body. 

They were in their own little world, a perfect kiss, for the perfect culmination of a career, but more so, for better expressing exactly what one felt for the other.

Neither of them wanted it to end. 

Yet they were not alone, and a repetitive “Cut!” could be heard from somewhere near them, pulling them back to earth. 

“Way to go Prongs!” James heard Sirius say. 

The whole set bursted laughing, including the couple. 

One thing was sure, they no longer were only castmates.

[beewitched-blr]

Zodiac Tarot Spread Reading for Anon

Firstly, I would like to thank this anon for being such an amazing client. Their kindness is unmatched, and I feel lucky I'm able to give them this reading.

Onto the reading:

It seems that of right now, you’ve been doing a lot of introspection. A lot of owning up to who you are. This is a good thing. You reflect on the past and work towards achieving a better future. Loneliness may creep up on you time to time, but there is a strange comfort you will find in solitude. This time in your life is the time of self-discovery and soul-searching. You may find yourself leaning more into your spirituality as of late also. These are all good things.

Your financial situation is looking rather bright! There may be some unexpected, good news regarding money and/or material things coming your way soon. There is a shift here from your past (possible struggles) into your future in a great way. Good things are coming your way; you just need to listen to the universe. Put out positive energy and open yourself up to the gifts that this world may bring.

Your social life is at (or coming towards) a really stable place. It appears that you’ve arrived at a strong point when it comes to your communication. Your communication skills are a lot better than they were previously. It also seems that you’ve really come into your own and found your voice, which is wonderful news. The cards do warn not to put too much effort into changing the way you communicate with others. You need to stand strong and keep it light. You’ve made great progress with this; don’t get in your head. Don’t fix what isn’t broken.

There is a lot of love surrounding you in your home life. The cards suggest that either you’ve been taking on a nurturing, household type of role – or that you have a beautiful connection with someone like that. You keep a very loving environment and that isn’t going away any time soon. You may be very family-oriented and that reflects in the love that you show others. You have a beautiful support system around you and you are a crucial part of others’.

During your free time, you may find yourself chasing enjoyable activities that are a little out of the box. It seems that “risky” activities could possibly be more suited to your happiness and overall leisure. When it comes to your hobbies and other pursuits, I’d suggest that you put yourself out there more; try new things, things that intimidate you. Chase the leisurely pleasure you seek. Don’t settle.

There is a steady and secure energy around the topic of your current or soon-to-be career. You may be rather worried about losing power and/or control of this aspect of your life. Try not to get so in your head with this. The more confident you are in your demeanour; the better the outcome will be. You will find this part of your life to be rather fruitful and whilst you may want to protect that, you also need to allow the universe to do its job and lead you towards the right path.

Regarding your love life, I see a new beginning for you. If you’re looking for love, you most likely will meet someone in the near future that will be a great match with you. Even if you’re already in a relationship, this is a highly positive connection that is being sensed. The love that will be surrounding you may be a new kind of love; something you have yet to experience and something that isn’t what you expect.

In your past, it seems like you may have been a little “over-planned”. You may have also struggled with achieving your big goals. Make sure that you don’t get into your head and start to over-think, like you may have in the past. Let things flow more naturally. Events will come to you if you really focus on the ins and outs of what you feel deep in your soul. It’s crucial that you don’t overwhelm and burn yourself out.

A current lesson you may be learning, or about to, is how to come into your own self with confidence and intellect. You are in the perfect place in your life for learning and I see this being very helpful for you. There may also be a lot of facing yourself and really working on what you want your future to hold - who you want to be, what you want, etc. Truly understanding yourself and working on what you see fit.

There is very good news here! It looks like you will have some creative achievements in the future. You seem to be rather talented in what you do/what you will do. There will be some amazing goals of yours reached with your natural ambition and a pinch of hope. Your intuition regarding these moments is also quite strong. You will know when you should take a leap of faith; you just need to trust your instincts.

Your social life seems to be in a good place right now! There are a lot of steady friendships that are blooming. The people around you are good people and it’s important that you remember that you bring just as much love to their lives, as they bring to yours. It’s crucial that you appreciate those little moments in relationships and take time to truly celebrate these bonds. I see a lot of trust here.

Deep down I see a yearning for a sense of… adventure, if you will. It’s important for you to know that you will experience all that life has to offer. You may feel lost from time to time but if you step outside of your comfort zone, you will experience all that your heart wants. It also appears that you may have some self-confidence issues that you should face. However, you need not be stressed; you will build up your confidence over time. I would suggest doing some light shadow-work.  

[twosidesofkeithmoon]

stick a pin in the picture of you - Chapter 5

Pairing: John Entwistle x Original Female Character

Summary: In an attempt to further boost their band into the spotlight, Lambert and Stamp hatch the idea to find someone for young female fans to project onto and young male fans to desire. Thus: they find an up-and-coming model to photograph with their band in the greatest marketing stunt they can fathom. Meanwhile, Rosie - that very up-and-coming model - is doing everything in her power to keep herself from falling head over heels with their quiet, mysterious bassist.

Tags: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Coworkers to Lovers, Roger is a little sexist for plot purposes, 1965

Words: 3,048

A/N: Shenanigans: the aftermath

[Archive of Our Own Link]

Perhaps the second time would be the charm. Surely lightning wouldn’t strike twice; the band had learned their lesson regarding behavior on set and they’d all be able to proceed with an uneventful filming session.

Well, that was Rosie’s hope anyway.

It seemed like everything was set to go rather swimmingly. They’d arrived, loaded in their equipment, changed into stage clothing, and began mingling once again. Their moment was cut short, however, by the approach of a rather unhappy producer.

As promised, news traveled fast in environments like this. The last studio had called around, with this one being the last one to get the message. Not exactly blacklisted, but their opportunities were about to be awfully slim. That meant they had to tear everything back down and load it back into the van before it was even used, much to the chagrin of the band.

Rosie began to make her way back to the dressing room, not trying exceptionally hard to hide her displeasure, when Pete waved her down. Surprised, she strode over to where he was carefully de-tuning his guitar for travel.

“Sorry the filming was canceled.” He murmured. “But at least it was before anything could happen.”

It was half an apology, but she had to roll with what she could get. “It is what it is.”

He snapped the latches of his guitar case closed, his precious Rickenbacker protected for the time being - not that its demise wasn’t imminent. “But anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask: you haven’t seen us live before, have you?”

“Well, not for real.” She replied, shaking her head. “Why?”

“We’re playing a show tonight in Reading, if you’d like to see us play, we can get you in as a guest for free.”

In normal circumstances, she’d say no. In fact, in these circumstances, she should say no. She still wasn’t particularly happy with the turn of events. The four people causing said events made it all the worse, but her night had been freed up and she wasn’t keen on putting the effort into trying to make plans now.

She looked down at her nails a moment, feigning disinterest. “You promise to put on a good show for me, then?”

“We always put on a good show.” He countered, standing to his full height. Like John, he towered over her; he was at least ten inches taller than her. “But I suppose if we have a guest of honor we might have to give it our all.”

His sarcasm was palpable, but she didn’t blame him. “I suppose it would be nice to see you all outside a mimed performance. I heard that you’re like wild animals on stage.”

“Only sometimes.” He responded. Grabbing a spare scrap of paper and pencil off a nearby production table, he jotted down the details: address, time, and what to tell the bouncer at the door so she wouldn’t have to pay to get in - and instructions to show up early if she was interested in watching them set up. It was rather generous to give her that. Almost intimate.

As she finally gathered her things to leave, she could swear she saw Pete give John an exasperated look - as if a long-standing debt had finally been repaid.

☆☾☆☾☆☾☆☾☆☾☆☾☆☾☆

Finding the venue was easy enough; it wasn’t far from her flat and stood on a corner where a number of youths had already begun to line up. The show itself wouldn’t start for another few hours at best, but she liked the idea of showing up early. If nothing else, it made her look important to those who were beholden to door opening times and ticket prices.

Cutting the line, the bouncer looked down on her derisively, but she coolly responded that she was with the band, giving her name. There was a moment where he clearly racked his brain for the instructions he’d been given earlier that day, but he relented, opening the door for her and wishing her a good evening.

Step one, complete.

The lobby was small, empty, and the click of her heels echoed around the room as she strode into the dance hall. As promised, the band was already there and in the process of setting up; Keith was carrying the pieces of his drum kit in, Pete was adjusting the tuning on his guitar again, and John was arranging a series of amps that he couldn’t seem to be satisfied with. Roger was missing from the stage, although he didn’t have any instruments other than his vocal cords to contend with.

Pete - always perceptive - noticed her first.

“Ah, there you are! Glad you could make it!”

She rolled her eyes, approaching the stage. It wasn’t exceptionally tall; she was able to lean up against it quite comfortably. “What else is a girl ought to do on a Monday night?”

“Any number of things, I presume.” The guitarist replied, plucking a few strings to confirm his tuning was correct. Hitting a sour note, he cringed, turning the tuning peg accordingly. “We don’t go on for another two hours. Don’t expect much excitement until then.”

Keith scoffed from behind him. “Says you! We’re always exciting!”

“I’m sure I’ll find something to enjoy.” Rosie decided to hoist herself up to sit at the edge of the stage, legs dangling. “Where’s blondie?”

“Dip’s doing his vocal warm ups backstage.” Keith answered. “He’s always worked up about potentially sounding bad. If he’s so worried about it, I could fill in just fine.”

Indeed, straining her ears some, she could faintly hear a series of baritone scales echoing through the halls. “You think so?” She laughed, looking back at him.

“Oh, I know so!” He crossed his arms confidently. “In fact, I could be a one-man band, make the next hit album all on my own!”

“In your dreams.” John snorted. “Can you even play guitar?”

“Don’t need it. Just drums, a bugle, and yours truly.”

“Sounds rather… eclectic.” She could only imagine what a Keith Moon solo album might be like. “I didn’t know you could play bugle.”

“One sometimes needs a stepping stone or five to find out what they’re really good at. Luckily, I only needed the one.” He stepped out from behind his kit, satisfied with his setup. Striding over, he sat down next to her. “I need a drink. Care to join me?”

She wasn’t going to turn down a potentially free drink. “Why not?”

He pulled her up to stand, then led her to the backstage area, weaving around countless amps and storage containers until they made it to the green room. It was a slightly pitiful affair, not much larger than a broom closet; however, it was made as comfortable as possible with a small sofa and a few mismatched chairs.

“Right.” Keith retrieved a case of beer off a cluttered table, handing her a bottle. “This is what I’ve got.”

Rather disappointing. She wasn’t a fan of most beer, but a drink was a drink. Politely, she accepted, and politely, he took the liberty of popping the cap from it for her.

“Cheers!” He cheekily tapped the tops of their bottles, taking a long sip.

She was much more reserved with her drink. As expected, it wasn’t exactly pleasant. “Was this just an excuse to get me alone?” She asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

“Really, Keith, you’re awfully sweet, but not exactly my type.”

Keith shook his head and he fell back into one of the more sturdy chairs. “Oh, don’t worry, you’re not mine either. But I wanted to talk.”

Keith? Serious conversation? She knew that concept didn’t mesh with him in the slightest. This felt like a trap. However, her curiosity had been piqued, and she took her own seat across from him. “About?”

“About John.” He responded simply, pausing to take a drink. “He likes you.”

She could assume that enough - they all seemed to have eased up on the animosity. Even Roger had cooled his distaste from murderous to begrudgingly tolerant. “I assumed you all did.”

“No, I mean really likes you.” He leaned in as if he was dropping a piece of the juiciest, most lecherous gossip imaginable - and maybe he was. “Haven’t you noticed? He’s constantly looking at you and talking about you and collects magazines you’re in-”

“Wait, wait, wait.” She cut him off, feeling her face grow hot. “He what?”

“He’s obsessed with you! I thought you might like to know - but don’t say anything to him about it! He’ll clobber me if he knows I said something.”

She sat back, knocking back a much deeper draught than before to buy time to gather her thoughts. On one hand, this was a complete blind side, but on the other, it was glaringly obvious. The little things that had happened over the last two weeks became as clear as day.

“Well then.” She took a breath. “And why tell me this? Why can’t he tell me himself?”

Keith patted his knees in a strange, almost anxious rhythm. “Well, two reasons, really. He’s awfully anxious around you. I think he’s scared you’ll bite his head off.”

She could have told him that; he’d already implied his fear which she wished was unwarranted. “That’s true. The other reason?”

“He’s my best friend. I want to protect him in case the worst happens.” He flashed her a wicked grin, holding up his fists in a mock boxing position. “Imagine being the bird who breaks his heart!”

Rosie laughed, pushing his hands back into his lap. “You sound like someone’s dad before a first date. Plus, you don’t even know that anything would happen between us.”

“I’m rather good at these sorts of predictions.” He purred in reply, though still had an air of apprehension about him.

She swirled the remnants of her bottle idly. She was only about half done whereas Keith was nearing the bottom of his. “You alright, Keith?”

“Oh, you know. Thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“You’re telling me.” He finished the last dregs, placing his bottle in the spot it once occupied in the case. “Do you ever get nervous before a big photoshoot?”

She hummed in reply, deciding that she wouldn’t finish her drink. It was awfully bitter. “Oh, sometimes I suppose. It’s always that stepping stone, though, to something bigger and better. I’d be a fool not to make that leap. I guess my fear is more… anticipation?”

“Anticipation.” He echoed. “I like that better.”

With drinks and conversation at their apparent end, they left the green room with a silent understanding between them. She wouldn’t say anything to John, as promised, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t going to pay closer attention.

Taking a seat on the edge of the stage once more, she couldn’t help but watch him finish his tuning and warm-ups out of the corner of her eye, head swimming with thoughts.

Was he staring back at her? Sometimes it seemed like his eyes were lingering on her, only to dart off somewhere else when he felt her look back. He didn’t say anything when she’d returned with Keith, but she had noticed a bit of a sour look. Did he think they were…? No, surely not.

The idea that she occupied so many of his thoughts after such a short time knowing each other was interesting to say the least. Collecting magazines she’d been in? That was beyond dedication.

She tried rationalizing this as a nasty trick on the part of Keith.

He had to be lying. Then again, if he was, he was a rather exceptional liar. He had prospects of being in film if he was that good.

Regardless, the doors opened not long after, and the band retreated to the backstage area for a quick breather before their performance; Rosie remained in the dance hall, close to the stage, making sure to get a spot near where John would stand.

Once they returned to stage, she didn’t know what she was expecting.

What she did know is that they exceeded her every expectation. The tabloids weren’t lying. In some ways, they understated the sort of energy that poured from every note, from every lyric, from every bit of stage antics. She hardly expected the crowds of screaming girls and boys alike; it felt like every verse was punctuated by shouts of delight that rivaled the audiences of The Beatles at times.

And naturally, stock still, nearly looking bored, was John, plucking basslines with hardly any effort at all. At one point, she caught his eye; her sheepish wave was met with the faintest smile and wink.

Keith had to be lying to her.

If she told herself that enough times, she had to be right.

John didn’t fancy her. She certainly didn’t fancy him. The girls screaming in her ear did, though, threatening to rush the stage to get a closer look at - and feel of - the bassist. What those girls didn’t know!

The show ended with a flourish: the promised musical destruction took place, beginning with Pete’s previously well cared for Rickenbacker, followed quickly by Keith’s bass drums. She had to duck to avoid his obviously aimed drum sticks being lobbed into the crowd; the girls behind her clambered to claim them in her stead.

Looking up for a moment, she caught John’s eye. He extended her a hand, and she gladly took it, being pulled up and escaping to stage right before anyone could notice; if they did notice, it wasn’t exactly her problem.

She wasn’t going to let how effortlessly he lifted her linger in her mind for too long.

They met the rest of the band in the green room. With more than two people in it, it was much more packed. It wasn’t just the band either; Roger had already found himself a pair of groupies and claimed the sofa, one girl on each arm; Keith was chatting up a girl of his own; Pete clearly had his eyes on another.

She felt herself blush a bright red for a second time that day. John noticed her apprehension, and leaned down to her ear.

“It’s too crowded in here. Want to steal the van for a bit?”

She tensed.

“Not for anything like that, Rose. I know you’re not the groupie type. I just want a quiet place to smoke is all.”

She let the tension dissipate. “Alright. No funny business, though.”

“Funny business is Keith’s job.” He laughed. “Not mine.”

As promised, the van was much quieter. This was remedied, in part, by John producing a portable record player and a stack of 45s, picking one at random. To the low-volume of a Gerry and the Pacemakers single, John sparked not a cigarette, but a joint.

“Do you partake? If not, you can have one of my Sobranies.” He asked, letting a thin stream of heady smoke trail up from his lips.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t before. It was 1965, after all, and she was willing to try just about anything once. Taking the joint from his outstretched hand, she watched him intently as she took a drag. There was a strange look in his eye, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the pot or the way she curled her lips around the end.

She decided the first option was preferable.

Neither of them spoke. She sort of wanted him to say something, to exchange words rather than just clouds of smoke. Of course, though, he was silent, the words unsaid hanging above them in the cramped backseat.

This was nothing more than a retreat from the debauchery inside the theatre.

This reprieve, of course, was cut short by Keith throwing open the doors with one hand, the groupie from the green room on the other arm. He seemed shocked that his choice of love shack was occupied, letting out a brief string of profanities.

“Come on! Dip claimed the sofa, Pete’s got the loo, you two aren’t even shagging! Can’t a man borrow the van for fifteen?” He whined.

“You usually only need five.” John joked, but extinguished the joint in a nearby ashtray, switching the record player off. “C’mon Rosie, we can smoke outside. It’s getting foggy in here.”

Leaning against the outside brick wall as they did before, head swimming with intoxication, she couldn’t help but enjoy his company, even if their new choice of entertainment was now making bets on how long Keith would last. They opted to share a cigarette, swapping lewd theories of what was taking place in the backseat.

Rosie won the bet. By her estimates, they only had to linger outside for around twelve minutes, beating John’s less generous estimate of six. The pair spilled back out, fixing their clothes before parting amicably. Keith joined his friends against the wall as the girl went back inside.

“You need a ride home?” He turned to Rosie. “I think I can convince Dip pretty easily.”

“It would be preferable to a cab fare this time of night.”

“Allow me to work my magic, then.”

Indeed, magic was worked. Somehow, Roger was not only convinced to drive her home, but to stop by her place first; it was out of the way and added nearly an hour to his route, but he insisted that it was the right thing to do, especially with how she had to sit sandwiched between John and Keith on the back bench seat.

She chose to ignore how John’s hand kept making moves towards hers before darting away at the last second.

She chose to ignore how he made a point to lean down to speak to her in the noisy van.

She chose to ignore how something in her heart fluttered as he made it a point to get out of the van first, to open the door for her, and even to walk her to her doorstep.

She couldn’t ignore, however, the victorious uproar of Keith and Pete as he returned to the van - which subsequently sped off into the night, leaving her once more in a warm silence.

Crawling into bed that evening, a pleasant high wearing off, she let the grey fringes of sleep envelop her, dreamless and deep.

[neogandw]

Apologies for the delay, I got busy with something else yesterday.

Page 5 out of 6, you can read the rest here.

This is technically the last page of the story, with Page 6 being a bonus. And generally this was the punch-line I wanted to lead to from the start.

When I conceptualized this whole idea of peach being incredibly good at splatoon, I wondered what exactly would be the payoff of such an idea, what would be the end goal?

There's many ways I could have gone with the concept. Such as the mario characters partaking in turf wars themselves, peach dominating the squids (which could have been mean) or even just justifying why she's so good at turf wars (I do have an idea there, but it also lumps into another concept I would like to do something with later).

But ultimately, the idea that won out was the one depicted on the comic: Peach teaching an Inkling, and the punchline always being that if she taught one, then the rest would swarm her asking for lessons on all kinds of weapons (I didn't' show said weapons to just save on panel space, but its implied by how many they are as not all of them would suck with the charger specifically).

I do generally like the idea of the older members of the Smash cast looking out for the younger ones that aren't necessarely from their universes (I do have the headcanon that Samus is a hardcore Kirby fan and I've shown that in a few comic pages every now and then, there's also the minor inside joke my friends and I have that Ridley apparently keeps Pichu as a pet), so continuing on from that point I figured that someone caring, warm and loving like peach would contrast rather well with the scrappy, energetic and gremlin-energy-filled young Inklings. I may do more with the pair later as a result.

Anyway, thoughts on the page and the fun jokes I hid on the panels:

I intentionally mixed and matched the UIs and elements from all 3 Splatoon games to make the whole situation ambiguous in WHEN the hell the comic takes place compared to Splatoon as a whole, since Inkling girl is supposed to be Agent 3 right from Splatoon 1, but only using elements from 1 would have been hard.

Off the first two panels alone you have the Splatoon 3 victory screen set with the map of Urchin Underpass (which only showed up in 1), followed up with the results of Splatoon 2 and showing the weapons from Splatoon 3 in it. It's basically a big mix-up of the different games and I'm aware of how none of it really matches together, but that's the fun of it, yes?

Speaking of Urchin Underpass, I drew it to be as close to the map as I could while seen from a topside perspective. I probably could have made the full thing look like the perspective seen in the map results (its actually slightly slanted rather than full on topside) but that would have been too much effort for what would be covered up by effects and Judd/Lil'Judd.

I actually tried looking and mathing out how Splatoon figures out the stats and tried to at least make them seem somewhat sensible, but I couldn't really find an explanation of how the math... well, maths out.

In fact, I only until later noticed that Urchin Underpass has a limited number of points stated on one of the wikis, but I didn't notice until after the results panel was already finished, my bad on that one.

As a fun fact, I kinda wanted to make the "when the hell does this take place" even more ambiguous by not even using the map from Splatoon 1. The original plan was to use the one from Mario Kart 8, which ultimately I couldn't do since the map is significantly smaller.

I also wanted to tell a mini story with the map itself, as there's details put into it that reflect my experiences with splatoon itself:

Obviously Orange won by a landslide (lampshaded with "Protag Side" and "Red(?) Shirts" instead of the usual "Good Guys" / "Bad Guys" labelling on the results), but less obvious is that the mode being played is not actually Anarchy Battle, its Turf Wars.

Essentially, I kinda undermined the whole bit of the training montage by putting the scenario in the more chaotic Turf War where things can swing more wildly at the last second. Our gal is still dominating for sure, but its not a "suddenly you're god at ranked matches", its gonna take a long road to get there.

Part of the lessons taught? Notice that orange side remembered to ink the base while blue didn't.

Blue at least tried to fight back and its not all a complete domination since that would have been boring. I also made a note to show the last-second special usage by throwing an ink strike marking on the map.

There's that one blue inkling that just decided to throw their hands up in the air and just rushed the enemy base alone to see what they could do.

Blue's weapons actually match up with these two factoids as one is using an N-Zap (I believe a weapon that actually had the Inkstrike back in 1) and a Brush (which allows for rushing the enemy base to annoy the enemy).

Originally in the result screen I thought of writting the player names that were dismissive of the other squid kids playing at the turf war ("Some Nerd" is the leftover of that idea) but I thought that would have been mean, so I instead just went with what would have sounded like names I could realistically see on Splatoon itself... and my friends hated me for pointing out that "WoomyInBio" is probably already circulating somewhere on the servers already.

In case you're curious, the japanese player's name is literally just the japanese word for "Squid". As a friend put it...

If you're puzzled at "Panasonic Blu-Ray", don't worry, that one was a random one I came up with since its just a meme I annoy my friends with. Helps that its on the blue team.

To be clear, on the third panel the inkling is supposed to be gleeing about how good of a teacher Peach is, I was admittedly worried people could get the wrong idea if I did this with hearts as the effect (as I realized it could come off as shipping), so I instead used the star glow to downplay that.

The city in the background is actually taken from NEO The World Ends With You (really good game, I recommend it a lot) as both as a bright space filler and a sneaky shout-out to another series I love a lot (you can generally tell its TWEWY's shibuya if the building has a 104 instead of a 109 sign on top).

Peach's kitchen is not just a filler location, I based it off Paper Mario 64's kitchen, the one where she baked a cake for Gourmet Guy.

Its a bit of a small thing but the Yoshi Loops box is actually a Mexican box and the tell is that on the upper right corner of the cereal you can see a black and white mark. Those are hexagons sticker that the mexican gov has regulated into food products that warn of things like excess sugar or calories on a product.

Peach's thoughts of Mario and Bowser are drawn in the style of TerminalMontage and Hotel Mario respectively, very obvious one but I figured I may as well state it.

I eventually realized that I could make a bit of comedy on the squid/octopus crowd by adding Callie in the mix as part of the sudden influx of eager students. Doubly cute since Callie is a Roller main and often times its Marie (an actual Charger main) who has to protect her, so Callie wants to pick up lessons on how to use a Charger as well.

Among the crowd you can see a distressed Waluigi, but its not the only thing I hid in there, its very hard to make out but you can also find a Tako in the middle of the crowd.

So that's it for the major pages. For the next post I'll show overall fun things of the process as well as the sketch version of the final page.

[intcritus]

Fingers raise from the page to offer a little wave of recognition to the other's appearance in his periphery. Absently his gaze remains on the book in his hands, tracking the sentence to its conclusion before he snaps the cover shut and allows himself to turn, visible eye embodying the smile of greeting that his mask obscures. "A peaceful morning today... how does the road of life fare?" Itachi's bookshop is a calm haven in which Kakashi enjoys to linger till the world demands him back, so he makes effort at least to greet rather than offer courtesy alone when it comes to the owner's presence. "Any recommendations as of late?"

with colten out for the morning, itachi came in early, opening the bookshop, and tea consumed, he was in a fairly good mood. his husband had woken him up so sweetly. so he knows it'll be a good day. the first thing he starts with is putting some books on the shelves when he spots kakashi. the dark-haired male doesn't approach at first, more than content to letting kakashi indulge in the book in his grasp. the owner knows what that's like, getting immersed in a story that putting it down is near impossible, especially when it's so enthralling.

❝ ━ it seems to be in my favor today, actually, ❞ he answers in greeting, a glimmering of mirth in his dark gaze, ❝ ━ a quiet, peaceful morning and i believe it's supposed to be light rain later on, only tonight though, so i hope you'll be inside before then. ❞ not that many enjoyed the rain, but itachi did. it made his night, and his thoughts seemed to quiet, shutting off and letting relax and just be. it helped that he slept quite well whenever it rained. turning his gaze back to the bookshelf when asked for reccomendations, itachi hummed in contemplation. there were plenty, depending on the genre. kakashi's tastes were interesting, and varied, which was impressive.

but if itachi was being honest, he's not entirely sure what the genre of his reccomendations should be today. there were so many great reads to bother picking from them all. ❝ ━ if you're looking for something satirical, there's i am a cat, it's humorous yet has a fascinating sense of storytelling from the feline's point of view. mm, there's the devotion of suspect x, a thrilling crime novel i know you'll immerse yourself in because of the complex twists. ❞ he's already read so many and even just thinking of them as he lists them off, makes itachi want to read them once more, ❝ ━ ah, snow story is a love story, it's bleak, but hauntingly beautiful none the less. rashomon is a shorter story that i just finished and i think you'll appreciate the irony of the lesson in that story. ❞ turning his gaze back toward kakashi, he smiles gently, ❝ ━ shall i get them for you, or would you like me to put them on hold for when you come next ? i promise you won't be disappointed. ❞

when the owner geeks out about books. | @resolutepath

[jinmukangwrites]

Dik (31bby-26bby) for the ask game, please? Is this that DC Star Wars AU I think I remember you talking about? (I don't remember if the 'bby' is related to sw dates, sorry if I'm wrong)

You're dead on! It is a Star Wars AU, and Dik is the name I gave Dick within the AU. The timeline itself is pretty important to the story, so the entire backstory of Batfam has had to be rewritten to fit within the timeline of the Old Republic, hense why I put dates. You'll see that I spoil a bit of the timeline by having Tim's dates cut off at 19bby, ie, the end of the Clone Wars and the beginning of the Empire.

Dik's chapter is within the timeline of him first becoming Bruce's Padawan through his graduation into a Jedi Knight. (Around this time, Phantom Menace has occurred, so if dates are difficult to visualize, Dik is a little older than Anakin). I retell a bit of a classic Robin to Nightwing story that fits within the universe and allows Jason to make an appearance near the end. Most classic beats to a Dick Grayson's Robin are retold and refit into the Star Wars canon.

I'm also gonna post a snippet of the last section I have currently written for Dik's chapter, as i haven't touched the AU despite it being a passion project for a little while. It's one of those fics I refuse to upload until I've finished it, which means that I'm not going to post it for a looooong time more. This is where I've left off, and I still need to write Jason's retelling, and Tim's, up until Order 66 where after I'll introduce Damian, Cass, and Duke, to which the whole family's stories will continue past Empire rule. Like I said, passion project, it's one of those stories I desperately wish I could read right now instead of writing it, but by God I'll write it if I must.

----

It didn't take Dik long to decide he was going to do exactly what Master Bruce told him not to do. The Senate meeting wasn't for a few more days, and Dik could play along and stay with Master Alf until then. He had never disobeyed Master Bruce before, so he doubted either of them would expect it. He won't admit it, but the reason he's never disobeyed wasn't because he was a good student, or thought Master Bruce always knew better, but it was because he was afraid of being sent away if he didn't constantly prove he was worth the time and effort. Relations built on temporary measures could never be trusted to magically become permanent.

However, that Two-Face guy clearly was a powerful foe, which meant Dik should be there rather than sit it out. What if Master Bruce got hurt?

Or worse?

Dik didn't want to imagine the worse options. Not with the Sith back.

So he didn't have a choice, he had to go against Master Bruce's wishes and help take down this Two-Face guy. When Dik proved that he was capable and skilled, Master Bruce would forgive him and let him stay for other big names in the future.

They were partners, and Dik was going to prove that he was worth keeping around no matter what.

-o0o-

Dik liked Master Alf-Reed. Honestly, under any other circumstances, Dik would be elated to spend one-on-one time with the old Jedi. This was the man who completed Bruce's training, who spoke so civilly but carried an air about him that he knew a lot more than what you ever would, and he had a rifle-blaster which he was hardly queasy about using it.

He had a lot of stories and lessons to tell, and Dik ate them up. His lessons were always hard but rewarding and meaningful. He gave compliment and praise easily, and gently scolded for things gone wrong.

Dik hoped sneaking out wouldn't upset the old Jedi. But it was a risk he had to take.

Sneaking out of his room was one thing, all he really had to do was lie and say he was going to go to a meditation chamber and he wanted to be alone; but it was another thing sneaking out of the temple itself.

Luckily, Master Bruce made sure Dik knew how to sneak around.

Sure, sneaking around Jedi was considerably more difficult than sneaking around common criminals—especially if certain green Council members were nearby—but Dik made sure that he left at the exact time a Council meeting had started. It was late enough that most Jedi were also more likely returning to their rooms rather than leaving them. The front temple gates were relatively clear by the time Dik got to them.

None of the Jedi were even ones that Dik recognized, so no one tried to stop him based off acquaintance alone.

Eventually, against all odds, Dik made it outside.

The Senate building wasn't far from the Jedi temple; after walking a good ten minutes away from the temple, Dik eventually was able to hail a cab and pay the droid driver with some of the allowance he'd been saving up. The driver didn't ask any questions on why a thirteen-year-old would be going to the Senate building alone; not that Dik expected him too.

And just like that, Dik was blending in with a crowd of senators and their helpers corralling into there large, domed structure. There were more police droids than what Dik thought was usual, but they let him through with just a flash of his lightsaber and a small: "Jedi business."

Dik couldn't really think of a time where Dik's been inside the Senate building, but luckily it wasn't too hard to tell where to go. The masses all gathered in groups, they moved toward the important rooms like fish swimming up a stream. Besides, Dik didn't need to guess where the meeting room was, didn't even need the Senators to show him the way—the shape of the building alone made it obvious.

Dik didn't need to go into those important rooms though, not yet. He wanted to patrol the perimeter. If some criminal was going to crash the party, they weren't going to just walk in with the newly appointed Senator Amadala.

He poked his head around here and there, inspecting the large place the best he could. He even stuck his head in some of the vents, which probably wasn't a very good idea as his silka beads got caught in some of the grating and it took an embarrassing amount of time to get unstuck despite no one being there to witness.

Seriously, Padawans with hair had it easy.

Eventually, he made a full round about the halls that formed a perimeter of the central dome, coming to the main entrance once again. The main meetings that involved every Senator present was tens of minutes from starting, which meant most occupants should be seated inside within their respective pods.

Expecting the main foyer to be empty, Dik nearly jumped a parsec high and made an squeak of alarm when it only appeared to be empty.

Master Bruce... and a near-human woman Dik needed only a moment to identify. Talia al Ghul, daughter of Ra's al Ghul, recently made senator for the Lazarus system controlled by her father. It's hard to tell what species exactly she was, at first glance you'd think she's completely human, but at a closer look her eyes were the color of polished emerald, split in the center with predatory slitted pupils. A trait shared with her father, the former Jedi, now ruler. Dik had never met the woman, nor her father, but Master Bruce had talked about her sometimes, though nothing more vague than a she's a remarkable woman.

He managed to keep his reaction under control

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*Throttling me by the throat*: WHY DIDN'T I WRITE MORE AHHHH