#soap opera amnesia

[impossiblelibrary]

"Loving my potential isn't the same as loving me."

-- Sarah Hawley, A Demon's Guide to Wooing a Witch

[inthewychelm]

i am so willing to ignore my favorite character dying that 911 could wait until five seasons before they bring back bobby and i will be so overjoyed like yes absolutely, this is what i've been Waiting for! alive!bobby arc in s15 i will be vindicated!

[recurring-polynya]

24!

24. Which fic do you think is your funniest?

I am sure that if I took the time to consider which of my fanfics has the best constructed humor, or which one employs comedy to the greatest effect, the answer would be something different, but the question is which fic do I think is my funniest, so, unfortunately, the answer is locking eyes, holding hands (twin high maintanance machines), the story where the gang does a live-read of Orihime's Maid Cop fanfiction.

What, exactly, is so funny about it? First of all, it follows the template of the best Bleach filler episodes, which is to say, Ichigo is just trying to have a normal one while everyone around him "Yes, and"s their way through some insane scenario. It's full of phrases that very specifically hilarious to me, personally, from “I have the heart of a canine healthcare worker, loyalty is in my nature!” to "Popsicles are for captains, only." The slow reveal that more and more of the characters keep up-to-date with the fanfic in question. Orihime is the most Orihime I have ever written her. It's named after a Mountain Goats song lyric. Byakuya keeps dryly saying sound effects out loud, except when he's not sure what sound something makes. Ishida's lawn chair collapses and he just stays there in the wreckage of it. Anyway, it's dreadful. It's the epitome of "I wrote this for me, but you can read it, too," except that I actually wrote it for someone's prompt (to this day, I am sorry, poor Anon). Cringe is dead. I have no regrets.

(fanfic writer ask game)

[stiltonbasket]

nie zhuyan makes soaps on the regular after moving to Gusu to marry a-yu? A lot of them go towards various people or groups in Gusu (family members/friends, the baoshi, etc.) though he sells some of the special ones.

I forgot that Nie Zhuyan actually learned how to make soap at some point, so when I came back to this ask, I thought he was making...soaps.

[likely-lowkey-loki]

Will we see that Mobius does know Loki in a past era of the TVA, and then we have to see him go through Protocol 42 and forget him???

I don’t know if I can go through that twice O_o

[bumblingbabooshka]

Kes????????

[ohello0]

Hmmmmmmm,,,,,,might be discovering something about myself that’s just like…so incredibly inconvenient and potentially very expensive. I need to find stable employment so I don’t have to think about all that

[kuncitizen]

Molecular romance

One awkward smile, two 'study mates', and a love story that’s chemically inevitable.

Synopsis: You only stopped at his science fair booth out of pity—but the tall, nervous guy with crooked glasses and a galaxy model has other plans.

Satoru Gojo is brilliant, awkward, and talking a mile a minute about black holes like it’s the most romantic thing in the world. You weren’t looking for a tutor. Or a crush. But he’s got stars in his eyes—and maybe, now, so do you.

Pairing: Nerd!Gojo Satoru x reader

Genre: MDNI, College AU, Fluff, Slow-burn-ish, friends to lovers.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff in this one, mutual pining, just two idiots in love and nerdjo being really, really down bad.

Masterlist

<-prev

You pull your blanket tighter around your legs and curl into yourself, remote in hand, flipping mindlessly through channels until you land on some over-the-top soap opera.

Onscreen, a man with three wives and a suspicious mustache is faking amnesia to dodge child support, and you find yourself snorting into your cup as you shovel another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

You’re halfway through another melodramatic monologue, reveling in each minute of bad TV. Which is also why you almost jump clean out of your skin when the front door swings open with a sharp click.

Your head snaps up, heart kicking hard against your ribs. “What the—?”

The pale figure stands tall and broad in the doorway, white hair sticking up in all directions.

You shift upright instinctively, the blanket sliding off your shoulder. “Satoru?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just steps inside with his hands jammed deep into his pockets, shoulders high and stiff, jaw tight like he’s been clenching it all the way here.

He shuts the door harder than he needs to, kicks his shoes off in a sloppy half-motion, and crosses the room straight to the armchair without sparing you a glance.

You feel your stomach knot a little, a cold wash of worry creeping up your ribs.

Gojo drops into the chair with a graceless thud, head tipping back hard against the cushion, and exhales sharply through his nose.

You shift forward, tucking one knee under yourself. “…Hey. What’s wrong? Something happen?”

He stays like that for a long beat, eyes on the ceiling, lips parted like he’s chewing through words he doesn’t like the taste of. Finally, he speaks up, dragging a hand down his face.

“It was a disaster.”

Your eyebrows draw tight, and that knot in your stomach twists sharper.

“…Disaster how?” you ask, voice softer, fingers curling into the blanket. “She already had a husband kind of disaster? Or… she doesn't like dogs kind of disaster?”

He lets out a short, humorless huff, rubbing his temples.

Then he peeks at you through his fingers, just for a second.

And that look, sheepish and vaguely irritated rather than crushed, loosens the knot in your chest just slightly.

"Neither.”

You exhale, shoulders relaxing as your concern eases. “…Okay. Then what?”

“She was pretty." Gojo drops his hands into his lap, fingers fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt, gaze fixed somewhere near his knees. "Funny, even. Everything she was supposed to be.”

You wait, watching the restless way he chews the inside of his cheek.

“And?” you prompt gently.

Gojo's fingers tighten, knuckles flexing faintly, before he finally speaks again.

“And it just… didn’t feel like anything.” he says quietly, almost to himself.

Something uncoils in you at that—not relief exactly, but a faint warmth, a glow you’re quick to smother.

Still, you tilt your head, fighting back the feeling of strange relief. “Not even a little?”

“Nothing,” he repeats flatly, shaking his head. He slumps back in the chair, shoulders sagging now, and lets his hands fall to the armrests.

“It was like kissing a…” he pauses, searching for the words, and then his lips twist in faint distaste. “…like kissing a decorative fruit bowl. Pretty to look at, but weirdly hollow.”

You stare blankly at him, before bursting into laughter despite your attempts to conceal it.

Gojo's head snaps up, a scowl pulling at his mouth even as his ears start to pink. “Don’t laugh!”

“Sorry—” you cover your mouth, even though the corners of it keep curving. “I’m sorry, it’s just… a fruit bowl?”

He groans and drops his head into his hands again, muffling his reply. “You weren’t there, okay? It was bad.”

You drop your hand back into your lap, chuckles trailing off. But there’s still a little weight lingering in your chest, and you let your eyes trace him for a moment longer. The way his shoulders hunch inward a little, the way his fingers keep kneading the hem of his shirt, like he doesn’t know where to put the tension buzzing through him.

You lean back slowly, the faintest crease between your brows. “You scared me, you know.”

His head lifts at that, confused. “…Huh?”

"I thought you were… I don’t know. Heartbroken or something.”

Gojo blinks at you, startled. He slowly leans back in the chair, gaze dropping to the floor. You narrow your eyes at him but say nothing, until he breaks the silence.

“…What if she wasn’t the wrong person?”

Your gaze lifts immediately.

He’s staring down at his hands now, thumbs rubbing over each other absently, as though they might spell out the right words for him.

“What if it’s not about her or the date. Or any of it. What if I…” His throat bobs, breath shivering faintly as he cuts himself off, then starts again. “Because I already…”

He presses his tongue into his cheek like he’s holding back more, shoulders curling forward.

You sit there for a beat, letting the silence settle between you. He doesn’t look at you anymore—just keeps staring at his own hands like they might explain him to himself if he keeps watching long enough.

But you can’t stand to see him like that.

So you shift forward, the blanket pooling at your waist, and gently reach over, laying your hand on his shoulder. You feel the way he stiffens under it at first, just faintly. And then very slowly, his muscles ease.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, soft but certain. “For what it’s worth… none of it’s your fault.”

That makes his head lift a little, but not all the way. His lashes flutter as his eyes find yours. You smile at him, small and kind, your thumb brushing once over the seam of his hoodie where your hand rests.

Gojo tips his head forward, letting his temple fall to your hand like he’s too tired to hold it up himself, rubbing faintly against your palm like some oversized, sulking cat.

You huff out a quiet laugh at the gesture, warm and a little incredulous. “What a man child.”

That earns you a faint, muffled noise from him—not quite a word. His eyes are closed now, his hair tickling your wrist. Your smile softens as you watch him there, folded in on himself but still leaning toward you.

“Hey,” you say after a long second. “You wanna eat ice cream and watch a movie with me?”

His lips twitch faintly against the back of your hand. And though he doesn’t open his eyes yet, he nods. “Yeah."

You squeeze his shoulder gently, then let your hand slide down to his sleeve as you stand and tug the blanket open wider.

“Come on, drama king,” you mutter, already tugging him toward the couch.

He lets you guide him, lets you tuck him in beside you, the blanket drawn over both your legs now. He sinks into the cushions like they’re the first soft thing he’s touched all day, shoulders finally uncoiling next to you.

The screen flickers to life, the soap opera replaced with something equally trashy but comforting all the same.

For a while, he doesn’t even bother to look at it. His eyes flutter open halfway as he glances at you, then back at the screen.

And he doesn’t say a word.

But he feels lighter somehow. Like the world isn’t quite so loud. Like maybe he’s allowed to just exist for a little while, here, next to you, under this cheap fleece blanket that somehow feels warmer than anything else in his life.

You nudge the tub of ice cream toward him under the blanket, your knuckles brushing his knee. He glances down, then up at you.

Gojo hesitates for a second, but then his hand slides out from where it’s been buried in the fleece, long fingers curling around the tub. You press the spoon into his other hand with a quiet grin.

He doesn’t bother grabbing a clean spoon. No, he takes the very same one you were using, his lips closing around it without a shred of hesitation as he shovels a big bite into his mouth.

The TV screen in front of you is throwing soft blues and golds across the room, the speakers crackling with some overly saccharine confession scene. The kind of thing where the guy runs through an airport and shouts, “I’ve loved you all along!” and the girl cries and they kiss to applause.

But Gojo couldn’t be any less interested.

Because for him, watching you watch TV is somehow more captivating.

You’re leaning forward slightly, your cheek resting against your fist, your eyes caught up in the silly drama playing out onscreen. He can see the faint glow of it reflected in your lashes, the way your lips tug just faintly at the corners when the couple kisses.

And he’s staring—too long, too obviously—until your head turns.

His eyes snap up at once, like a deer in headlights. He swallows thickly, but he doesn’t quite manage to stop looking at you.

Your eyebrow lifts faintly, a slow smirk tugging at your mouth. “You like the movie?”

“Yeah,” he says a beat later, holding your gaze. “I like it. A lot.”

You hum, leaning back slightly, your fingers idly smoothing the blanket over your lap. But then you pause, your eyes narrowing just a little as you lean closer.

“There’s…” you gesture vaguely at his face. “Something there.”

He blinks at you. “Where?”

You chuckle softly under your breath as he fumbles at his mouth, missing it entirely.

“No—just…” you mutter, leaning in.

Your hand lifts, thumb brushing against the corner of his lips where a tiny smear of vanilla clings to his skin. He freezes under the touch, his breath hitching slightly as you swipe it away.

And then before you can think, you lick the ice cream off your thumb.

Gojo almost falls clean off the couch at that.

His shoulder jerks against yours, his knee knocking the tub as his arm flails instinctively—and the next thing you know, a cold splat hits your shirt.

You blink down, and a perfect dollop of ice cream sits dead center on your chest.

Gojo’s voice cracks through the soft hum of the TV. “…Sorry.”

You glance at him, half a smile tugging at your mouth despite the damp patch spreading over your shirt. “It’s fine, Satoru,” you say lightly, already pushing yourself up from the couch.

You pluck at the fabric, grimacing as the cold spot sticks to your skin. “Ugh. I should clean this off before it freezes to me.”

He starts to shift like he’s going to help somehow, but you wave him off, already padding toward your bedroom.

But you pause halfway, turning back to him. “Shit—I left my clothes in the dryer.”

Your eyes flick down at him, then to what he’s wearing. “You—uh. Gimme yours.”

“Mine?”

You gesture vaguely to his torso. “The flannel. You don’t need it.”

Gojo stills for just a second, like the words don’t quite compute. Then he looks down at himself—at the soft plaid draped over his T-shirt—and back up at you.

And without a single word, he shrugs it off, balling it in his hands before offering it to you.

“Thanks.” you say, taking it in your hands.

He doesn’t answer, just watches as you pinch the hem of your damp shirt and tug.

Right in front of him.

The fabric peels up over your stomach and higher, revealing the faint lace edge of your bra, peach-colored, delicate against your skin. His mouth goes dry before he even realizes he’s staring.

And yet he doesn’t stop.

The light from the TV flickers over the soft slopes of your ribs, the warm stretch of skin under the shadow of your hair as you toss the ruined shirt aside and slip your arms into his flannel.

Something low and unfamiliar churns deep in his stomach, and he suddenly hates how his heart is hammering loud enough for him to hear.

He forces his eyes away, one hand curling into the blanket beside him so he doesn’t do anything profoundly stupid.

You settle beside him, flipping your attention back to the TV, utterly unbothered.

Gojo, though, can’t quite convince himself to look at you yet.

Not with his pulse thrumming like that. Not with the faint smell of your skin sticking to his flannel now that it’s on you.

So instead he just sits there, staring at the screen, pretending. And telling himself over and over to get a grip.

The credits begin to roll, soft music filling the silence, and you stretch with a quiet groan. The back of your neck aches from being curled up on the couch for so long, and your legs feel half-asleep under the weight of the blanket.

“Well…” you murmur, already rising halfway to your feet. “I should probably head to bed.”

But before you can even plant your hands on the couch to stand, you feel the faintest tug at your sleeve.

Naturally, you glance down.

Gojo’s fingers are curled around the fabric, barely pulling, like even that much is an enormous act of courage for him. His head is ducked slightly, hair falling into his eyes, and he doesn’t look at you right away — just stares at the TV, his thumb rubbing circles into the seam of your sweater.

“…Satoru?” you ask softly, trying to catch his eye.

His fingers tighten just slightly, and when he finally looks up, it’s shy and uncertain, the faintest tinge of pink at the tips of his ears. He doesn’t say it out loud, but you can read it on his face. He's asking you to stay.

Your shoulders loosen with a quiet sigh, and you settle back into the couch, blanket sliding back over your legs.

He lets out a small breath of relief, maybe, and releases your sleeve, folding his hands in his lap like nothing happened.

You rest your chin in your palm, side-eying him with a faint smirk. “…You want to do something?”

His gaze snaps back up to yours, mouth quirking into a little, shy smile, and he nods once.

You laugh under your breath. “Okay… like what? What’s the plan?”

Gojo freezes, clearly having no idea what to say now that you’ve called his bluff. He swallows, gaze flicking away like he’s trying to think fast. “…Something. Anything,”

“How specific,” you tease, sinking further into the cushions. “We could… play cards? Watch another movie? Clean my apartment?”

That earns you the tiniest huff of a laugh, and he shakes his head, more at himself than at you. His fingers fidget nervously in his lap for another long moment before he blurts.

“We could build a… pillow fort?”

You blink.

“Pillow fort?” you repeat, trying not to laugh at how his voice went up at the end like even he isn’t sure if it’s a good idea.

He looks down, shrugging faintly, a self-conscious little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just… thought it could be… fun.”

You press your lips together, trying to stay serious, but the corners of your mouth betray you. "What are you, five?”

His shoulders sink, and he mumbles, “You don’t have to…”

But you shake your head, reaching for a pillow and tossing it into his lap. “No, no. We’re doing it.”

Gojo startles as the pillow hits him, then catches it clumsily and looks up at you, wide-eyed and stunned like he didn’t actually expect you to say yes.

“Okay,” he breathes, clutching the pillow to his chest.

And after that, it doesn’t take long for the living room to look like a war zone.

Every blanket you own is draped across the couch cushions and dining chairs, the backs of armchairs dragged closer to serve as makeshift walls. A broom handle sticks out awkwardly from the middle of the structure, propping up a sagging corner, and at least half the pillows you’d started with are now just scattered on the floor like casualties of an overzealous architect.

Gojo’s the one doing most of the fiddling. Standing on tiptoe to secure a corner of a sheet to a lamp, muttering under his breath when it slides down again. He’s smiling faintly the whole time, though, even when you catch him crawling on hands and knees to adjust the “doorway.” You can’t help but laugh softly at how serious he looks about it.

And when you both finally crawl inside — ducking under the sagging edge of the blanket — it feels a little like stepping into your own tiny world.

You flop down onto your back with a soft laugh, the carpet cushioned by pillows beneath you. Beside you, Gojo lowers himself carefully, his shoulder brushing yours as he settles. For a moment, you both just lie there, staring up at the faint twinkle of the lights above, catching your breath from all the rearranging and rebuilding.

Then you roll onto your side, propping your head in your hand as you turn toward him.

Gojo hesitates for a second, then mirrors you as he shifts onto his own side, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other draped loosely over his waist. His face is just a few inches from yours now, hair mussed from all his crawling around, his cheek pressed into the pillow.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just blinks at you with that calm, almost curious look of his, like he’s waiting for you to speak.

So you do.

“…Hey.”

His brow quirks faintly. “Hey yourself.”

You huff a quiet laugh, picking at the hem of his flannel on you. The silence hangs easy as you both just watch each other, chest rising and falling with an almost identical rhythm.

His eyes flick over your face like he’s trying to memorize your features, and you catch yourself noticing the way his fingers keep curling and uncurling where they rest between you.

Eventually, you bite the inside of your cheek, gathering the words before you let them slip out.

“About earlier,” you say, clearing your throat. "I just… wanted to say sorry. For pushing the whole tinder thing on you.”

His brows furrow slightly, but you keep going, fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket between you.

“I shouldn’t have forced it on you. I guess I was being kind of annoying and overbearing, and...” you trail off, shoulders lifting faintly in a helpless shrug. “You know. Me.”

Gojo watches you quietly, his gaze steady on your face. Then, after a beat, his lips quirk in the faintest smile, and he hums, low and gentle, like you didn’t even need to apologize.

“It’s okay,” he says simply. His voice is quiet but certain. “I know you… just wanted me to be happy. That’s all.”

His eyes soften at the edges as he says it, and you can clearly see how much he really means it. You manage a small, crooked smile back at him, feeling your chest unclench just slightly.

“Still,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut for just a second. “I’ll… try to chill next time.”

He breathes a quiet laugh at that. But then his gaze dips, just for a second, to your lips. So quick you almost miss it.

Your breath hitches slightly, a nervous heat prickling the back of your neck, and you let out a shaky little laugh to fill the silence.

“What?”

Gojo just shakes his head faintly, the corner of his mouth curling into the smallest, shyest smirk.

“Just… thinking about how bad I was at that kiss last night.”

Your cheeks flare instantly. Though you’re not sure if it’s more at the memory of his clumsy first attempt or the uncharacteristically bold way he admits it now.

You sputter out something—half protest, half laugh—but he only shuts his eyes again, settling deeper into his pillow with a small sigh that almost sounds content.

And as you lie there, heart stubbornly beating a little too fast, you can’t help but think that the kiss wasn’t bad at all.

Tags: @tonuhye @vynn30 @bakugouswaif @silkgardenias @gielwinchester9 @coffeeluvr96 @applepi405 @victorianxox-blog @minasuniverse @r9muka @n4me @goonforgeto @allysainz @jcissors

@fictionalmenlover5 @duydyycfuu @slightystressed @qngelq2666 @urmotherswhor3 @girlywhooooops @lumiamoureads

@kianatrg @maaic @libr4sonsa @moonlight-inthe-sea @kkataleena @petaltheory @mikadrawsstuff

@reveriennn @sbicybb @torusbbg @mooskie @satotorulove @shoruio @muscovitechick @d34ly @arabellasolstice @forever-paramore28 @enouche

[l-1-z-a]

Sims Trivia: According to Lyndsey Pearson way back in the late 2010s, the ‘Bella Goth story’ was inspired by Dynasty in the 1980s.

Stay with me here, this is going to be pretty in depth and may just blow some of your minds.

So Lynsey Pearson did a Q&A session on a fan site named Sim Media way back in 2008. The interview wasn’t very insightful, but she did share some details about the inspiration behind the storylines in The Sims 2.

She explained (when asked what was the inspiration for the storylines in TS2) that pleasant view was this huge tribute to 80s soap operas, with affairs, dramatic encounters and mysteries that were left unresolved.

Bella Goth’s story was inspired by Fallon Carrington in the original Dynasty series. If you’re unaware, dynasty was a true 80s soap and it followed a rich family known as the carrington’s.

So let me explain what happened to Fallon. Fallon was this mysterious, femme fatal character that was seen in the title credits wearing a red dress. She eventually goes missing from the show following a proposition from a guy and the family spend an entire season on the hunt for her. She is abducted by aliens, and she’s plagued by amnesia and can’t remember her family beforehand, or her children. Following her being ‘missing’, she’s replaced by a new actress who is visually different to the character beforehand, but still is seen in the credits wearing that iconic red dress. To add to this, a painted photograph remains inside the family home of the character after she’s been presumed dead following her absence.

Also lets not forget that Mortimer is an old man in the sims 2, who happens to be pursuing and being pursued by a younger blonde female who isn’t wealthy, but the game sets up this marriage. This is the same story as Blake and Crystal in Dynasty.

There are more instances where the soap opera aspect comes into play here, but I found this super interesting and hadn’t heard it mentioned since. Granted, the fan site isn’t around any more, but I was a member at the time. I’d love if she could shed some fresh light on this as the 80s soap opera aspect of Pleasantview has always made it my favourite of all the sims ‘hoods.

So yeah, I thought I’d share this trivia with you guys 🤣

Source:

[bisexualcell]

I can’t find the episode I saw a clip of, but I did remember the one I watched years ago where all the nurses file a formal complaint against that doctor whoring around

they fucked so much on grey’s anatomy I wonder why they never did an stds awareness episode that I was made aware of, but one doctor did break his penis from too much sex. I’m not saying who.

[ventique18]

Imagine the soap opera drama when a universe accident happens and some Yuus get transported to another Yuu's dimension. (🌸♀️)

Yuu 2: "Hornton! Ohh I'm so glad to see you arrive early. A MASSIVE earthquake just happened and I was scared shitless!"

🐉: "Who are you?"

Yuu 2: "Whaaat? Amnesia arc much? I didn't know you liked pranks."

🐉: "I must excuse myself. Good day."

Yuu 2, hugging his arm close to her chest: "Where are you going?! Didn't we promise we'd go shopping today?"

🐉: "Unhand me. I have a girlfriend!"

Yuu 2: "Well no shit, I'M your girlfriend, Yuu! Did you really get amnesia?"

Yuu 1: "What... What is the meaning of this, Malleus Draconia?"

🐉: "Beloved!"

Yuu 2: "Haaaa?! What beloved? You cheatin' on me?!"

Yuu 1: "Cheat-- I cannot believe you. Such a vile act-- You cretin! Thank you for showing me your true colors before you could do irreparable damage to me. And to think I almost tied myself to you for the rest of my life!"

🐉: "I do not know this woman!"

Yuu 2: "So I'm the mistress in this scenario, huh? Makes sense your main girl's the rich kid type... You really had me convinced I was the most special woman in the world... Pig."

🐉: "I've never met you once in my life!"

Yuu 2: "Yeah that's what cheaters say when they're caught."

The two Yuus, with their newfound camaraderie from their cheating boyfriend, quickly became fast friends over the next few hours. Malleus tried begging his Yuu to see reason, but was quickly shut down. But he was smart enough to understand there was something incredibly odd going on, and set off to work to find out exactly what.

Turned out Yuu wasn't the only one who had a universe mishap. There were multiple people who were apparently sighted in two different locations at once, and he eventually bumped across his doppelganger, the other Malleus, who was already examining the rift in their world.

Apparently the other Malleus also came to see his Yuu, but for some odd reason was thrown away at first sight. The two Malleuses decided that they should resolve this ASAP.

Yuu 2: "So our Horntons really weren't cheating on us, huh?"

Yuu 1: "Indeed. And a relief that was."

Yuu 2: "But hey, at least I got to be besties with a me from another world! You're so pretty by the way."

Yuu 1, laughing: "As are you, dear."

Malleus 2: "Are you ready to depart, Yuu? My Yuu, I mean."

Yuu 2: "Yep! By the way, otherworld Hornton, I gotta whisper something to you real quick..."

When Malleus 1 leaned down, she... gave him a big, ole smooch to the cheek.

Yuu 2: "My sorry for doubting you, and my thanks for taking care of the other me!"

Needless to say, Malleus 2's creased eyebrows and Yuu 1's appalled face clearly conveyed the internal conflict they were battling as to whether or not to be jealous of their lover flirting with another them.

[eriace]

love, take two ; umemiya hajime

oneshot & fluff ↪ in which umemiya runs into his ex-girlfriend at a neighborhood festival after two years apart. what starts as awkward small talk turns into cotton candy, late-night teasing, and maybe—just maybe—a second chance at love. ↷ umemiya hajime ; windbreaker

↳ an order of peppermint mocha from @lady-snavely in the comeback cafe event !

UMEMIYA HAJIME DID not expect to see her at the festival.

He’d just crushed a yakisoba plate in record time, planning to chill with the Bofurin crew, when he caught a glimpse of that familiar face—same eyes, same little annoyed pout, same way she always squinted at the fireworks like they were personally trying to blind her.

Y/n.

She looked the same and completely different at the same time. Her hair was longer. She wore a summer yukata, sky blue with little paper fan patterns, and she was holding a bag of goldfish with her pinky finger like it might explode.

Umemiya did the reasonable thing. He panicked and dove behind a cotton candy stand.

“Smooth,” Suo deadpanned, arms crossed.

“I just need a second!” Umemiya hissed, peeking through the sea of children and sugar. “She looks... happy. What if she doesn’t want to see me?”

“Then she’ll tell you. Like a normal person,” Suo said flatly. “You dated her, not robbed her.”

“She dumped me because I forgot our anniversary to fix my damn bike, Suo. My bike.”

“...Yeah, that was dumb.”

Umemiya groaned, running a hand through his hair. But fate didn’t care about his awkwardness because the second he straightened up—

“Oh. It’s you.”

There she was. Right in front of him.

He grinned instinctively. “Hey.”

“You’re hiding behind a cotton candy machine.”

“I missed you,” he blurted out.

Y/n blinked. “What?”

“Wait, no, that’s not—crap. I meant I missed cotton candy. Yeah. The candy. Not you. I mean, I did miss you, but—” he trailed off, cheeks warming. “…This is going badly.”

She stared at him for a moment, then laughed. “Still a total idiot, huh?”

“Only for you.”

She blinked again.

Umemiya paused. “…That sounded smoother in my head.”

They ended up walking the festival together.

No pressure. Just slow steps and fast food. She teased him about his terrible chopstick skills. He mock-whined when she wouldn’t share her takoyaki. She won a tiny plush shark at the ring toss and promptly declared it her new favorite guy.

“He doesn’t forget anniversaries,” she said with a smirk.

“He also doesn’t have white hair or killer calves,” Umemiya huffed, flexing dramatically. “Bet he can’t do a wheelie.”

“He’s a plushie, Hajime.”

“Details.”

Later, as they watched fireworks from the bridge—just like they used to—Umemiya glanced sideways at her.

“Y/n,” he said softly. “You ever think about… us?”

She looked up at him, surprise flickering across her face.

“I mean,” he added quickly, “I know I messed up. A lot. But I’ve changed, I swear. I even set alarms for my grandma’s dentist appointments now. Like, three of them. I think about you all the time. Your laugh. The way you steal my fries. Even your weird obsession with soap operas where everyone has amnesia.”

“That’s oddly specific.”

He grinned nervously. “I guess what I’m saying is… I’d be stupid not to try again. If you’d let me.”

There was a pause. A long one.

Then she reached over and took his hand.

“I missed you too, you idiot.”

His heart stuttered. “So… round two?”

“Only if you promise not to propose with a vending machine ring this time.”

“Hey! That was sentimental!”

“It was from a gacha capsule labeled ‘cursed love tokens.’”

“...Still counts.”

That night, Umemiya walked her home.

Hand in hand. Two years older. Maybe a little wiser.

And as she leaned on his arm, smiling at something dumb he said, he thought—

Yeah. Round two was already perfect.

© eriace ;; don’t repost my works.

[louiswt]

need to take a mental break to read fluff because these bitches are being so messy I need something light hearted

reading this romance where they’re all just shitty people doing shitty things to each other and ya know what… I’m vibing with it cause at least they’re self aware and know they’re all train wrecks lol

[archive-of-artprompts]

Send in a number + Character/s and I'll draw them in that AU

Alice in Wonderland - characters now take on the roles from this story.

Aliens - someone, or everyone, is an alien from the stars.

All Humans - the non-human are now humans, with corresponding changes to their backstories.

Alternate history - The past was changed, this is the new present.

Amnesia - a character has forgotten themselves, and everyone else.

Angels and Demons - a classic dichotomy

Athletes vs Band - a college au, typically involving sports and clubs

Candyland - everyone and everything takes on a sweeter appearance

Carnival / Circus - characters are now apart of a circus troupe 

Coffee Shop - typically a romance between a customer and the barista 

Comedy/SitCom - story is now more lighthearted and jovial. 

Crossover - Characters from one media are combined into another one.

Dark Fantasy - the story’s setting is now fantastical and dark. 

Dracula/Vampire - a blood drinking monster is now among them.

Fairytale - story now takes place within a fairytale setting.

Fantasy - the story now takes on a more D&D style imagining.

Fork-in-the-road - a crucial choice a character has to make is changed

Good & Evil - Protagonist and Antagonist switch places.

Horror - story is now more dark and unsettling. 

Infection - there’s a mystery infection spreading throughout the story.

Medieval/Royalty - the setting is now medieval Europe.  

Merpeople - Turning a character into a merperson , and or a character meeting a merperson.

Murder Mystery - its a real whodunit now

Pirates - adventures on the high seas

Post-apocalyptic - the characters are attempting to rebuild society after its collapse 

Role reversal - two or more characters trade roles in the story.

Romantic comedy - the story is now more lighthearted and romantic.

Soap Opera - its very dramatic now. And the plot is ... complicated.

Steampunk - its very Victorian and steam powered. 

Superheroes - Off to save the day, for the most part.

The villain wins - a bad ending, depending on perspective. 

Werewolves - a character/s finds themself cursed with lycanthropy 

Western - yeehaw cowboy

(AU list by @actualodinson --- List of Tropes in Fanworks from Fanlore)

[pokemonblack3white3]

Dramatic Subway twin and Elesa Reunion but with angst because of amnesia but it cuts to Eepy Dawn petting her Luxray after waking up from the WEIRDEST fucking dream

Arceus was actually courteous enough to try to avoid traumatizing a teenager when she helped fix reality AGAIN.

but an adult of indeterminate age is absolutely fair game.

dude the nimabsa trio having like a soap opera 50k angst hurt/no comfort fic play out while dawn goes "huh weird dream. Anyways." Arceus your dp/pla protag favoritism is showing again

[mjfass]

As someone who sometimes calls wrestling a violent soap opera, Toni getting amnesia is SO fitting for that comparison.

Oh God, yeah, absolutely! This is so funny, what other soap opera classic could happen to other storylines?