#But really..after a while...things just die in my drafts

[violeteyedkiller]

honestly thinking of changing my approach to RP. I mostly find I have attention span for quick one-offs with asks or quick threads related to dash events/commentary or what not. I'm still holding onto my drafts for if I get muse to really crack into them again but

Yeah idk just felt like rambling on my lunch break

[moregraceful]

I name all of my snake plants after Baltimore Orioles players because...I don't know why I do that.....anyway Adley (she/her pronouns according to my parents) and Adam Jones are making the trip with me but Chris Davis is TOO BIG FOR THE CAR and I'm so sad now. That was my emotional support snake plant through my FMLA leave. He has seen the worst of me (mental illness, forgot to water him for a month) and survived. Now he's like four feet tall and I have to leave him behind because he is so big that he takes up more than a third of my luggage space in the car 🥲 I took such good care of him that now he has to live independent of me. Goodbye Chris Davis I will think of you fondly as I encourage Adley to grow big and strong.

[voiceshearingyouloud]

I was feeling extremely suicidal today, like the worst I have in maybe four or five years now, and I was deliberating over whether I should go to the hospital like pretty much all day and now that I feel better I realise that the moment I started drafting my suicide note in my head was probably when I should’ve decided that 😭

[ihaechans]

Impatient || L.DH

PAIRING ▸ Lee Donghyuck x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut

WARNINGS/CONTENT ▸ profanity, clingy and whiny Hyuck, oral (f), groping, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be reckless pls..), jealous hyuck, multiple orgasms, creampie, nothing TOOOOO crazy tbh

SUMMARY ▸Your boyfriend Donghyuck just wants you all to himself.

WORD COUNT▸2k

A/N: This has legit been in my drafts since last year and I just finished it now. Wanted to release something before Die 4 You since I sadly won't have time to make any Halloween fic this year </3 please know this is not proofread so ignore mistakes, PLEASE...

“Alright, just let me know if you come up with any other ideas for the project. I’ll start my assigned section right away. Bye Jisung.” You sigh, quickly hanging up the phone without hesitation.

You love Jisung, you really do... but sometimes he really gets on your nerves. Both of you had decided to be partners for a project, and if you knew he was so clueless about every little thing maybe you should’ve just partnered up with Jaemin instead.

You huff, visibly irritated at the number of times Jisung has called you for instructions or help within the past hour, nearly screaming when you get another call from him not even a minute after you had just hung up.

Donghyuck laughs from beside you, the sound barely audible due to his face being buried into your side. “Jisung. He’s so cute.” your boyfriend mumbles sarcastically, smiling when you raise your voice at the poor boy on the phone.

You hang up once again, letting out a sound of exasperation.

“Don't get too mad Y/n, you know that’s just how he is,” Donghyuck whispers, pulling you closer into him as he caresses your side.

“You’re awfully touchy today. What’s up?”

“Hm?” he hums, nuzzling his face closer to your side as his wandering hand finds place on your stomach. “I just love my girlfriend.” He sighs, continuing his ministrations.

You’re suspicious but continue typing away on your laptop while trying your best to ignore Donghyuck’s suggestive touching.

“I swear to god,” you mutter, staring at your phone as another incoming call from Jisung appears on the screen. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“Then ignore it.”

Your boyfriend’s voice takes you by surprise. “What?”

“I said ignore it. He’s been interrupting my sweet time with my girlfriend. He’ll be fine on his own for a while.”

You laugh, the seriousness of his statement slipping past your mind. “Sweet time with your girlfriend is watching me do my project? Cute.” Smiling, you run your fingers through his hair a few times before resuming to type at your laptop, unknowingly annoying Donghyuck.

He huffs but you don’t seem to notice, too busy talking with Jisung on the phone, explaining something Donghyuck couldn’t care less about. He would get your attention sooner or later, he was sure of it.

His soft touches against your skin turn more suggestive within the next few minutes. You don’t mention it to him out loud, but he knows that you noticed.

His fingers dance across your thighs, grabbing and squeezing at them before you place your hand on top of his, stopping his mischievous actions. “Hyuck. What are you doing?” You whisper, making sure your mouth is far away from the speaker of your phone where Jisung was still on the line.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to be done. Why don’t you just cut it short for the day? Hm?” He doesn’t let you answer, getting up from his position so he can slot himself in between your legs.

Mouthing “no” and “stop” aggressively at him doesn’t work, his wandering hands already trying to slither under the bottom of your shorts. “Stop!” you whisper-yell, gaze demanding and stern.

Donghyuck simply ignores you, continuing to massage your inner thighs as he makes his way higher and higher. 

You try to ignore him and carry on with the conversation with Jisung, a surprised gasp leaving your lips when he shifts your shorts and panties to the side, licking a fat stripe up your pussy.

“Take these off for me baby. M’ gonna make you cum so hard for me.” There’s no shamefulness in his words and he says it loud and clear, the younger man on the phone pausing to ensure he heard that correctly.

“Are you sure you’re home alone?... I swear I just heard-”

“Yup! All alone!” You exclaim, accidentally drawing out your words to avoid moaning out. You bite your lip painfully hard, trying to conceal the sounds that were threatening to leave your mouth as your boyfriend continues to play with your cunt. He thumbs away at your clit, soft tongue placing kitten licks teasingly on your core as you shiver.

Giving in, you allow him to remove your shorts and panties, wasting no time to immediately bury his face in between your legs. “Jisung,” you breathe out, “I might have to call you back later…”

The boy on the line sighs, whining, “But Y/n, it’s an emergency and I need your help.” You could practically see the pout on his face through the phone, a sigh of annoyance and pleasure leaving your lips.

“Fuck…” you whimper, hips bucking up into Hyuck’s mouth as he continues to devour you, his tongue fucking inside of you as he thumbs at your clit.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks Y/n! I’ll be waiting for your call.” Jisung doesn’t wait for your response, hanging up almost immediately after he finishes his sentence, which was more than great for you.

Donghyuck seems to take that as his cue to speed things up, his tongue abusing your clit at a much faster rate. Your free hand searches for something to hold onto as your phone clatters onto the floor, legs wrapping around your boyfriend’s head to hold him in place as your back arches off the bed.

“Oh my god. Hyuck…” You’re not able to protest much, his tongue too busy licking up everything you have to offer. You moan loudly, voice louder than you had intended.

Donghyuck chuckles before quickly replacing his tongue with a finger, tongue licking at your swollen clit as he, plunges his index finger as deep as it will go into your tightness before pulling out and repeating the action.

The sensation of having his tongue against your entrance as he fucked you was overwhelming, a gasp leaving your lips as you found yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm. “Yes Hyuck… yes…” You whimper, hips jerking up into his face as you cum on his tongue, his finger still fucking your pussy at a relentless pace.

You call out his name over and over again as he licks up everything you give him, face soaked in your cum as he looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Hey, I was trying to finish up my work so we could fuck later,” you whine, pouting at the boy as he stands up. He licks his lips, smirking as he licks away at your juices before wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I was trying my best to be a good boy,” he muses, lifting your hips up from the bed as you wrap your legs around his waist. “But the more you denied my advances, the harder I became.” He continues, kissing your collarbone.

“That’s not fair, baby,” you breathe out, biting your lip. “I was just trying to get him off the phone, you know that." He hums, not bothering to reply as his lips immediately find yours again. Your hands fumble with his shirt, tugging it off of him as his tongue dances into your mouth.

He was much more aggressive than usual, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he was being a little bit needy. Though you kind of wanted to tease him, you couldn’t keep the grin from crossing your lips as he kissed you deeply, hands roaming your body as you moaned into his mouth.

“God… I missed you…” you whisper, biting down on his bottom lip lightly as he pushes your back down onto the mattress softly.

“I think I can let this pass since you’ve missed me so much,” he muses, climbing on top of you as he grinds his cock against your soaked pussy. “You’ve been teasing me all day.”

“I have not,” you protest, gasping as he grinds against you once more.

“You’ve been working and not paying attention to me.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “First of all, I’m working on my biggest project to date. Second of all, you’re the one who’s been teasing me.” Your breath hitches as his cock, still clothed in his jeans, grinds against your clit.

“That’s because I want you so bad.”

“You know you don’t need an excuse to touch me, right?” you point out, hips swaying as you try to push yourself further into his cock.

“You can touch me as much as you want.” Donghyuck chuckles, slipping his hand down between your bodies to unbutton his pants.

“Mhmm,” the boy hums, licking his lips hungrily as he watches you. He wastes no time in taking his cock out of his boxers, the end of it damp with pre-cum. “I think it’s better if I just show you how much I want you.”

Donghyuck wastes no more time, thumbing the head of his cock as he brings it down and slides the wet tip against your entrance. He looks you in the eyes before pulling back and thrusting in fully, the thickness of his cock nearly making you scream.

“O-Oh my god…” The boy lets out a deep moan, thrusting into you again and again in a quick, steady rhythm. The feeling of his cock sliding inside of you is enough to make you let out a high-pitched whine, hands searching for anything to hold onto as he pounds into you.

You grip onto the sheets, bodies colliding as the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. “You’re so tight,” he mumbles, thrusting into you harder. His hips grind against yours, pelvis pressing against your clit and sending pleasure rippling through your body.

“Donghyuck…” You moan out, a fire building in your stomach as he fucks you into the mattress.

“You’re so fucking hot…” The boy breathes out, thrusting into you deeper. His cock slides in and out of you, tongue licking your neck as he pumps into you harder. “I can’t hold back anymore, baby...” he groans, hips jerking against your own as he pants into your neck.

“Fuck don't stop…” Your breathing hitches, shoulders tensing up as he thrusts into you at a quick, steady pace. You feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm, his cock sliding in and out of you.

“Come on, Y/n…” He breathes out, thrusting into you with more force. “Cum for me.” His fingers dig into your thighs, nails scraping at your skin. “C-Come on baby-” His voice tenses, urging you on as his thrusts quicken. “Cum, Y/n.” Your back arches off of the bed as you're sent over the edge, an orgasm tearing through your body.

“Oh my god, Donghyuck….” You moan out, hips bucking up into his as he pumps into you with more force. You feel him twitch inside of you, letting out a deep moan as he fills you up with his cum.

With a groan, Huck pulls out, smiling proudly at the mess he had made of you.

You could feel his cum seeping out of your pussy and down your thighs, an audible gasp leaving your lips as you let your head fall back onto the sheets. Donghyuck pants into your neck, pulling out of you as he wraps his arms around your waist.

"Can't believe all of that was because of that nerd Jisung. Didn't know he bothered you that much babe." You conclude, your boyfriend smirking down at you in return.

As you lay panting on your bed, naked as you stare at the ceiling with your arms spread out against the bed, your phone goes off again, and you're immediately reminded of why you were so irritated in the first place.

[guksfairy]

BITTERSWEET MISTAKE / JJK

ꨄword count: 1.3k

ꨄsong: Not Allowed

ꨄnotes: …just angst honestly…this had been in my drafts for a while and I simply forgot about it :3 enjoy ! 💗

Your eyes are the first thing that catches Jungkook’s attention. He always told you how much he loved and adored your eyes more than anything. He was always able to read them quicker and clearer than anyone. He remembers when you were both in college and you’d get trapped into talking with people you didn’t like. With a simple look to Jungkook he knew to make up an excuse to get you away from the person as soon as possible. He always thought that was endearing. He was your safe space and hero.

Now, your eyes hold tears but they don’t fall. They’re not sad tears, you’re simply feeling emotional. He would know. Jungkook’s eyes begin to scan the rest of your face. Your mouth is bright and beautiful showing Jungkook’s favorite smile. He loved making you smile and laugh. You’d always laugh at his jokes, even though he himself knew that they sucked and wouldn’t even make a yes man laugh, but you did. You adored Jungkook. His jokes always made you giggle and smile.

Scanning lower he sees a necklace. On your first day of the last year of high school Jungkook gave you a promise ring, which you kept on a chain around your neck too afraid to lose it. This year would be the most difficult and stress filled compared to the rest. So the day before school started, and after his shift at the ice cream parlor was over, Jungkook ran over to the jewelry store in the plaza and picked up the custom ring he made you. Made to fit you and your style. He went for something small but enough to show you how much thought he put into this. Engraved on the inside with his and your name as well as the date he gave you the ring. The next day presenting it to you with a bouquet of flowers made from paper that he spent the entire past night making.

“Flowers that’ll never die, like my love and adoration for you,” he would tell you, and you kissed him while telling him how much you loved him and held them against your body.

Much like right now. Your bouquet of white and pastel pink flowers lay against your beautiful ivory shaded wedding dress. Your dad to your side holding back tears that were fighting to fall down his face at the thought of giving his baby girl away.

Jungkook knows the feeling very well. He’s feeling it right now, because when you begin walking down the aisle, smiling at your friends and family, you face forward and continue your path to your future husband. Cha Eunwoo. Walking entirely past Jungkook and his plus one, Jimin. He couldn’t come alone. He wouldn’t be able to hold back. He’d stop you midway and beg you to take him back. That it was all a mistake and to simply hold you or love you one last time would fix everything in him. He didn’t want to come. In fact he had thrown away your wedding invitation that was printed with a picture of you and Eunwoo in a flower field looking like the most elegant people of South Korea.

Until you called him personally, “It would really mean a lot, Jungkook. You were a great part of my life and basically my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were 4,” he could never say no to you. You’d tell him it was one of his greatest weaknesses, he would argue that it was his greatest strength, but now he’s starting to agree with you.

So he got in the car with Jimin the following week and drove to Gangnam where he knew he would only ever feel heartbreak.

Eunwoo’s eyes crinkle with a smile as you finally reach him and your dad jokingly raised two fingers to his eyes and then pointed them to him as if to say ‘I’m watching you’ jokingly. Jungkook and your dad always got along. Your father used to be a musician so he’d bond with him over that. Now Eunwoo is the one who sits in your family home and wins over your siblings and mom every time he plays a song on his guitar.

Before the ceremony can even begin, as Eunwoo’s friend tease him about being the first to get married in their group, Jungkook walks away followed by Jimin. He doesn’t know the layout of this venue but he just can’t be there. He can’t watch you get married to, and love, another man. When Jungkook was 16 and finally got the courage to ask you out, in which you said yes and he was over the moon, he swore to himself that you would be the only one he could envision as his wife. His life partner and the person he wanted to grow old with was you. It never changed. It didn’t change when you both had your first real argument in which he forgot your birthday and instead went to hangout with his friends and you told him you hated him and never wanted to see him again. It didn’t change when you two entered college and there were hundreds of different girls throwing themselves at Jungkook knowing full well he was taken.

It definitely did not change the night he told you he would be taking a job in the states for 2 years under contract and he doesn’t think long distance would be good for either of you. He let you cry into his shoulder that night but promised himself he would try everything to win you back even if you were in a relationship. He didn’t realize he would enjoy working at the company so much that 2 years doubled and quickly turned into 4. With minimal contact between the two of you, Jungkook was more than ecstatic to be back in Korea when the company opened a branch in Seoul. Though nothing could prepare him for the first time seeing you in four years.

A guy’s hands interlocked with your left hand that was now adorned with a shiny ring. He tried to run away so you wouldn’t spot him but it was too late once your face lit up and yelled his name. Dragging Eunwoo to meet Jungkook.

“This is my fiancé, Cha Eunwoo,” you had told him. He swore he couldn’t breathe but tried to keep his composure. Putting on his best smile and shaking his hand. The second you left after telling him how happy you were he was back in Korea, Jungkook ran to the nearest location where he didn’t see many people and let it all out. He had heard of people dying of a broken heart and he swore in that moment that it would be the cause of his death. You looked happier. Your beauty never leaving and in fact your looked even more gorgeous than the last time he saw you. More mature and put together.

He couldn’t hurt you once more with trying to win you back. That day Jungkook broke his own promise to himself and watched from afar. Now standing in front of the venue as the sun shined bright for your special day, Jungkook let it out once more. Falling to the ground Jungkook cried like a kid being hurt for the first time. Jimin’s attempt at comforting him wasn’t helping. His breathing became uneven. This was his fault. Had he came back sooner maybe he could have still had you.

No matter what, you will always be in Jungkook’s heart and mind. He just hoped he was still in yours.

You don’t know how long I could stare into your picture

And wish that it was me

I guess it’s different ‘cause you love him

[ivysangel]

Okay but a threesome with Dick and Jason. what would that be like? Are they competing to see who makes you come harder? Does each try to out do the other because he’s secretly jealous? Are they gonna Eiffel Tower? Is one really sweet while the other is being aggressive and rough? I need opinions.

-🧸

honey i am so so so so so sorry. this has been sitting in my drafts for so long and i hope you're still around to see it! i already wrote a lil smth smth about this a while ago here but allow me to elaborate.

i think the dynamic can get pretty crazy because dick can get wayyy nasty; not to say jason doesn't either, but i don't think jason would get crazy nasty in front of dick. dick's there to overstimulate you, tease you, play around with you, and bring you to the edge and back and then over, and jason's there to comfort you through it. i think they both could be "he talks you through it," guys, but in this specific scenario, i think it would be jason who sweet talks you, whispers in your ear, tells you you're doing so good for them, and quiets you down when you get too loud. i don't really know how to explain it, but he'd be the comforting presence out of the two of them, not even taking a submissive role or anything, just not as actively winding you up as much as dick.

dick, a menace as always, treats it like a game. how many times can he make you cum before you're begging for a break, and how many different ways can he make it happen. i think he'd be like that on a normal day, too, but i feel like it's very amplified in this situation because however this threesome happens, it's a very tense and intimate affair, out of character for both of them and, therefore everything about it is just different (?) i can't even think of a good way to explain it other than the next morning you're all kinda like woah. lost all inhibition the night before and don't really know how to go back to the way things were. he's quick to get nasty; he's the one eating you out while jason is kissing your neck and lightly grazing your skin, touching and squeezing, etc. the combination of both of them is really just insane, and both of their actions, in tandem, are what makes it so much more intense.

i do think they could be eiffel tower guys, but idk, i think (and walk with me here)…double penetration might be the way they go. like, you can't say, "dick grayson is an ass man," without admitting that he'd probably be into anal, so boom. and if your pussy is open, then yeah, ofc jasons taking it; it just makes sense TO ME. it's definitely a lot and not for the faint of heart, and you have to hold onto one (or both) of them while you get used to the sensation and while they find a nice rhythm, so it feels good for all three of you. during this part, the talking might die down just because you're all so in the moment; it's definitely out of character for dick because he's a D1 yapper, but it's cool cuz he was dirty talking so much during the foreplay, like lifting his head from between your legs just to look you in the eye and say something nasty.

i'm also ngl i could see the roles reversed where jason is eating you out or fingering you, and dick is the one whispering crazy shit in your ear. i could see it working both ways, but the first more so.

when i tell you this would be probably the best orgasm you've ever had, i mean that. there's just so much that went into it that there's really no way you aren't gasping for air and clutching your chest when it's over. damn near passing out, and they gotta shake you a little to make sure you're still kicking. and it's not even really over because if you show any semblance of energy after, they might try to go another round i fear.

[peterman-spideyparker]

Virtuous Person (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Things have been nuts, but I finally have some time and pulled this out of my drafts. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You have been seeing Matt for about three months now, and you are so happy that he is in your life. Conversation is easy, you're relaxed with him, and you feel yourself. But when some kissing turns into something spicier, you confess something to Matt.

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, kissing, allusions to sex (Matt does a sexy hip roll during a takeout session), reader is a virgin

Other Characters: None

Word Count: 929

You hum in delight as you slurp up your last noodle. “Ordering in was definitely the right move for tonight,” you say as you wipe your mouth. 

“I couldn’t agree with you more, angel,” Matt says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Are you finished?”

“Mm,” you hum as you get up. “But you’re not. Finish eating. I’ll take care of the trash.”

Matt gently protests, but you run your fingers through his hair, effectively using it as an off switch so he will do as you instruct. It works for a short while, allowing you to clean up the mess from dinner and allowing Matt to take a moment for himself, however brief, before he gets up to dispose of his trash and wrap his arms around you.

“I can take care of all of this later,” he murmurs into your neck. “Come and sit with me. I missed you all day.”

“Oh, you have?” you goad as you walk in step with one another back to his couch.

“Mmhm. I missed your voice, how soft your hair is—.” Matt plops the two of you down on the couch, the leather squeaking as it takes the brunt of both of your combined body weights as you sit atop of your boyfriend. “—your touch.”

You nuzzle into him, lightly pressing your lips against his cheek. “My touch like my hands and skin, or like my kisses?”

“All of the above.”

“Well, if it’s all of the above . . .” You rest one hand on the side of his face, leaning in to kiss him. The scruff of his five o’clock shadow tickles, making the embrace all the more enjoyable as he gets more and more into it. We both carefully reposition on the couch so you are off of his lap and on your own cushion, giving you better leverage for your kisses. The embraces are sweet and bubbly, absolutely blissful as you start—filled with the kind of giddy, lighthearted joy that teenagers feel when they have their first love and their first kiss. The eager excitement builds as the kisses go on, moving from more innocent embraces to exchanges filled with passion, a desire that begs to be fulfilled. Matt takes the lead, one hand cradling your face while the other rests on your waist, carefully guiding you to lean back on the sofa.

You smile as you embrace, Matt caging you in as we chase kiss after kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, deepening the kiss, causing you to moan in delight. As your heart races and your fingers rake through his hair, the kisses grow more intense, and you feel Matt grind against your hips. You hum in surprise, breaking the make out session as you pull back to look at him.

“Are you okay?” Matt pants softly, his blind eyes desperately trying to scan your face and pinpoint what’s wrong.

“I-I’m fine,” you swallow, your brows pulling together. “I-I just wasn’t expecting—I mean, what you did with your hips felt nice—like, really nice, but I, um . . . I, well, I haven’t really . . . I . . .”

Matt’s mouth gently falls open while his eyebrows rise in perfect arches. “Oh,” he breathes. “You’re a v . . .” He looks like he regrets the consonant sound as soon as it escapes his lips. “. . . virtuous person.”

You feel your cheeks flush as you close your eyes in embarrassment. “No, hey, listen!” he tries to correct.

“Can we just forget I ever mentioned it? We can just go back to kissing like it never happened, and I can die of embarrassment later tonight when I get back to my apartment.”

“(Y/N)—.”

“Please?” You hate how that one little work makes your voice crack, giving away your emotions and insecurities so easily.

“Hey,” Matt whispers tenderly, wiping away a tear that slipped out of the corner of your eye. “It’s okay.”

“Ugh!” you grumble. “It’s just so embarrassing! And it’s even more embarrassing when I have someone I love here with me who . . .” He looks at you like a sweet puppy, begging you to finish your sentence. “. . . who is the most wonderful, loving, magnetic person that I know. Who deserves, well, everything. And I can’t give him that.”

Matt dips his head, kissing you long and slow.

“You,” he whispers, softly and tenderly, packing an incredible amount of love in that single word, “are the most amazing, warm, caring person I know. I love you, too. And I never want to make the person I love feel uncomfortable in any way.”

“It’s just a really big thing for me. I don’t know why, but . . .” You shrug, feeling heat burn all over your skin. “I was going to wait.”

“Okay,” he nods, his sightless hazel eyes sparkling as he sits us up on the couch, pulling you up with him. “We’ll wait. I’ll wait for you.”

“Matt, listen, I’ll get it if you—.”

“I don’t want you finishing that sentence. I’d never be that shallow.” He tucks a stand of hair behind your ear. “If the woman I love wants to wait, then I will wait with and for her.”

“Matty . . .” you breathe. He just smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you once more before gently brushing away some tears of yours with his thumb.

“I mean it. You’re worth it. I will wait for you.”

You match his sweet smile, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m a very lucky girl.”

“I can guarantee you, angel, if anyone is the lucky one in this relationship, it’s me, because I have you.”

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[sophieinwonderland]

Catarina Claes and Low Self-Esteem - A Ramble

Here's a draft I was saving for after I wrote my Plurality of Catarina Claes post, but I haven't done that and don't feel like it, so I'm posting this anyway...

I was thinking about Catarina while scrolling through the Crunchyroll comments describing her as denser than a black hole, which while funny the first time, and the second, starts to wear on you by the hundredth.

I mean, I get a community having running jokes, but I'm talking literally every episode has at least one person saying this, and sometimes multiple.

The thing about these comments is... they're not wrong. Catarina can be really dense and oblivious. It's one of her defining character traits. Everyone knows it...

But... I think there's more to it than this where it concerns her love interests.

Catarina, in my opinion, doesn't recognize that people love her because she sees herself as unlovable.

Putting Ourselves In Catarina's Shoes

Imagine for a moment that you've always been the strange girl at school.

You have one close friend. You've never had a romantic partner. You're a disappointment to your parents who see you as just some lazy girl. And then, at 17, you die completely unaccomplished. A failure.

You get a new life though. You're reborn with no memory of who you used to be.

And the person you are now... is a brat. A spoiled rich brat who hurts everyone around her. Then you get hit on the head and have memories from your last life flood your brain.

Now there are two very different lives in your head, but there are common themes in them.

In both, you have a mom who puts you down at every turn. In both, you haven't really known love before.

And on top of all of that, you realize that your new life is as a villain. A rival who is supposed to compete with the heroine for a man who doesn't love her. Someone who only agreed to be engaged with her to avoid other offers.

This is your destiny.

And it confirms everything terrible your parents told you about who you are across two lives.

By the time she enrolls in the magic academy, she's had over 30 years to internalize her sense of worthlessness, and nearly a decade to internalize her destiny as a villain who exists only to be a rival in someone else's story.

Catarina Isn't Just Oblivious. She's In Denial.

She's built an entire self-concept around being the unlovable villainess that she literally cannot fathom anyone having genuine romantic feelings for her.

Even while she loves her friends (platonically), she's still convinced through the series that they're going to kill or exile her in the end.

No matter how many times people drop hints or even outright tell Catarina they love her, she can't accept that.

All in all, I feel dismissing Catarina's obliviousness as her just being dense (which again, she is) does a disservice to the character.

[c0smiclatt3]

SATORU GOJO: SAY DON'T GO

i said 'i love you,', you say nothing back.

☾₊ ⊹ TAGS: angst no comfort, friends to lovers, reader and satoru were classmates, reader defected, post-suguru's death, not proofread yet pls be patient w me i just had this in my drafts for too long

after ten years, you meet again; only this time he's here to kill you - whether he can bear to face you or not.

wc: 4.3k (woah)

You look the same as you did the day you left, and Satoru really wishes you didn’t. Maybe this would be easier for him if your days as a curse user and Jujutsu Tech defector somehow disfigured you beyond recognition. If you’d taken advantage of some other curse user you knew and donned some glamour or disguise.

But no. You look the same as he remembered you. Your name rung in his ears when he saw you from his vantage point atop the abandoned school building, echoing just as it had haunted him since he left.

She’s here. She’s here. She’s—

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“She’s gone.”

Satoru felt like he was going to choke. The door to your dorm was ajar, Shoko standing beside it somber, an unreadable expression on her face.

The door hinges squealed as it slowly slid open. Lo and behold: A half empty bottle of tea on your desk. Empty bags of your favorite chips in your desk trash bin. The curtains fluttering in the open window like they always did because you liked the breeze while you slept. Your bedsheets made, just as they were every morning when you four set off for the day’s missions and drills for the last few years.

And your uniform, folded neatly on your bed, unworn.

Satoru’s mouth went dry, his hand went slack, uncurling from the fist he’d locked it in as he stormed over moments prior. “No. She’s coming back, she left her tea—“

Shoko interrupts him, "Satoru."

“She wouldn’t just up and leave, she—“

“Satoru-”

“Did Suguru rope her into this? Shoko, you haven’t seen them talking have you? Sure I was a bit preoccupied but maybe—“

“Satoru,” Shoko said, firm but resigned. “She’s gone.”

The longer he looked the more it set in: your bag missing from its hook. Your things missing from your desk. A photo of all of you Jujutsu sorcerers beaming at the camera unpinned from your cork board and fluttered to the floor, wrinkled at the corners from drops of water.

“I see.”

Shoko slipped a hand into her coat pocket.

Satoru turned on his heel and walked off down the hallway.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Goodbye.

That’s a word he’s said so much of in the last few years that he doesn’t remember anymore how to say hello. What does he say? What does he say, knowing the reason he was here now — that he was sent to kill you for once and for all?

Satoru had tracked you all the way out here. You’d gotten sloppy after Suguru’s death. The higher ups didn’t think a dirty defector like you had the capacity to mourn like that - they were convinced it was bait. It's why they sent their silver bullet himself. But Satoru knew otherwise. He knew you were too careful, too sharp to make a mistake like that any other day, and here he found you - in an abandoned school building in a small town by the countryside.

You sat in the crumbling classroom, knees to your chest on a rickety chair covered in cobwebs, tracing patterns on the dust on the desk surface. You look up, your expression neutral. You weren't surprised to see him here, like you expected him, even knowing that meant certain death. It almost made him want to laugh.

So you were feeling nostalgic, huh?

It was sunset on a quiet late summer evening, the clouds streaking along the horizon like pink and golden brushstrokes against a violet sky. What a beautiful day to die, you think to yourself. Pink. Gold. Violet.

And there he stood, silhouetted save for his eyes.

Blue. Stunningly blue.

Perhaps this is mercy, then.

You speak first.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Hands at your side, you bow deeply and snap back up to attention. Your mother coached you extensively before you departed for Tokyo on how to be respectful to the city folk, and you rehearsed the self-introduction she taught you to a tee. Fresh-faced, thirteen and bright-eyed, from the moment the train stopped at Tokyo station you put on your brave face.

The boy standing in front of you, however, was not terribly impressed. He stared at you blankly for a few moments.

“Right,” he mumbled, before turning on his heel to walk away.

“H-hey!” you go red in the face, “I wasn’t done-“

He holds his hand up. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard enough.”

You scoff at his bluntness. Well this was no way to start off a relationship with someone she was meant to call her classmate. “You’re not going to bother telling me who you are?” You call out after him. He stops.

“… You’re being serious?” he looks at her over her shoulder. His eyes flash blue - blue enough to rival the hue of the sky above them. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen eyes that blue before.

“… Well yeah-“

“Damn,” he turns back around, though rather than venom in his voice there's almost a sense of amusement and curiosity. “They weren’t kidding. You really are a country bumpkin.”

Regardless, you felt a burning in your chest as you clenched a fist. “I’ll show ya a country bumpkin,” you muttered.

“Huh? Couldn’t understand your accent, country girl,” he called out over his shoulder. You grit your teeth.

“Oi!” you call out after him, “At least give me your name so I know what to call ya while I kick ‘yer ass!”

There was something endearing to him about someone who actually didn’t know who he was for once. Who didn’t approach him like some god or some weapon. He mutters your surname to himself. He remembers Yaga-sensei telling him something about how you came from an insignificant family of sorcerers in the countryside. Out of your entire lineage, only you turned out with a technique that could actually be useful. Of course you wouldn’t know much about Jujutsu clan politics or the heavyweight names. Alright. He’ll bite.

“Won’t need it. I’ll have your ass in the dirt first, kid.”

“Who ‘ya callin’ kid!” Your fists clenched at your sides. He raised an eyebrow.

“You gonna punch me, kid?”

“I’m the same damn age as you, don’t act cocky!” In your twintail braids and with your tiny stature it was hard to take you as a serious threat.

“You’re a little thing. Why would I be scared of you?”

You threw a punch. You didn’t know what would be coming next - of course you didn’t. Your hand hit an invisible wall and you yelped, withdrawing your hand back and feeling the stinging pain in your knuckles. You look at him with a sense of challenge, but also a sense of amazement. Who the hell was this guy?

“You wanted my name? Well, here it is, kid—“

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“Satoru.”

As if understanding just how his name coming from your lips made him feel, the clouds parted to allow a stream of sunlight to illuminate you like a spotlight. The doomed antiheroine of today’s tale, in all her tragic glory, looking up listless like the soul had long been drained from her eyes.

Why, oh why did you have to say his name like that?

“I think we both know why I’m here.”

You nod. You look away from him. You’re not sure if you can bear to look at him now. “It’s been a while since we’ve sparred, Satoru.”

He swallows. “That it has.”

“Maybe today is the day I finally catch up to you after all these years.”

He shrugs. Somewhere in that nonchalant shrug is the unbothered kid you knew all those years ago. “You can try.”

But you both knew how this ended and somewhere deep inside you knew you deserved it anyway for your sins.

You can’t stop yourself from cracking a bitter smile. “Well, then,” you drop your satchel to the ground, laying out your knives before you, and as if pulled by strings they rise around you on guard. “One last spar. For old time’s sake.”

Satoru’s lips curl into a smirk.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“You’re on.”

You crack your knuckles. The other Jujutsu sorcerers may underestimate your technique, you remember your mother saying. Don’t let them. You put your hands on your hips and grin.

“Don’t underestimate me, though!”

“Can’t make any promises, country girl!”

You raise your fist and Satoru stands at the ready —

But your fist slams on the window behind you instead, shattering the glass. Satoru looks at you, confused —

And then the shards begin to levitate, forming a circlet around you.

“You think some stupid glass is gonna protect you?” Satoru scoffs. “You’ve got no idea what you’re up against here, squirt.”

You grit your teeth, close your eyes and concentrate. The shards go flying at Satoru. He’s got his eyes on you, his eyes on the shards —

And then your figure flickers. It flickers then it’s gone. He looks around, sensing that the cursed energy thrumming in the shards has grown stronger, almost humming with immense power. One shard passes just in front of his face, another just behind him, but rather than his own reflection in the glass he sees you.

You and a proud smile. You flicker behind him, and—

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

The first punch is thrown.

His movements are fluid. Graceful. Like conducting the orchestra of life and matter itself. He’s gotten even better since you left. You didn’t even know that was possible.

Your glass knives go zinging around him just as he remembered, but your technique was no match for a man who could see everything. All you had to do to try to keep up was to be faster. Faster. Faster.

But you were fighting a hopeless battle and you knew it. This was Satoru Gojo and at the end of the day you were a curse user. You knew how this ended. At this point the back and forth was just a formality.

His punches landed like they always did, the familiar blasts of red and blue that you learned to dodge all those years ago — only something was different. Something was off. His punches just barely you, just close enough to feel the breeze around his enclosed fists. He was holding back. You knew him well enough to know that.

Your grit your teeth, “Don’t go soft on me now, Satoru.”

“Who said I was?”

What a horrible liar.

“Terrible time for you to suddenly grow a conscience,” the quips are bittersweet in your mouth, rolling over your tongue like the tooth-rotting sugar of a childhood candy. Something in this back and forth felt nostalgic. Something in this back and forth made your heart lurch. Something in this back and forth made you feel as if any minute now you would dust the dirt off your pants, sigh in defeat, and walk off with him and. the rest of your class for a popsicle at the 7-eleven nearby. But this wasn't what this was. Suguru was dead. Yuu was dead. You defected years ago. And Satoru was sent with a mission that he was going to finish, no matter how much it pained him to. You just prayed it would be over quickly.

You grit your teeth, "I thought I was fighting the strongest!" Another blast just barely misses you.

"You are," his palm extends outward, a thundering force tunnelling along the concrete to your position, stopping just there before your feet.

God, this would be easier for you if he could just kill you like a cold-blooded killer. If in the last few years since you left the Satoru you knew had been successfully replaced with the sharpened knife the higher ups spent their whole life training him to be. But the hesitation in his attacks said otherwise in the most heartbreaking way possible. The words left unsaid over the last ten years came through in every missed attack, every pulled punch. Even now, even after everything, he was protecting you.

"Then hit me like you mean it!"

Like you mean it. If Satoru did anything right now the way he meant it this would be going a lot differently. If he could do this the way he meant it he would've stopped a long time ago. He would have extended his hand, flashing that arrogant smile he knew annoyed you to no end and helped you back to your feet.

But you want a fair fight and you'll get it. It'd be an insult to the sorcerer you'd grown into for him to hold back now at this crucial moment. All those hours, all those extra missions you took on while you were peers, all those promises and challenges, if you were going out you wanted to go out right. That was the least he could give you after all, wasn't it?

And so what did it mean when his attacks began to ripple through the concrete, forcing you to jump and weave around his blasts until you could feel your legs giving out? When his attacks forced you to concentrate all your energy into whizzing around between your blades, the sheer focus of reading his attacks and focusing your cursed energy draining your mind? That he acknowledged you. That he would fight you here and now as the sorcerer he respected. As the sorcerer he admired.

Your movements are angles, refractions, jets of blinding light and flickering reflections against his tremendous power. Slivers of light streams shooting between each blade - here, then here, then here - distributing your cursed energy across them so it would be more difficult for him to detect, David against Goliath. A battle of light against matter.

Until you shattered.

You lay on the concrete and hear the crunching of Satoru's shoes as he walks toward you. He walks slowly. He's giving you more time on purpose and you can tell, as if willing you to get up and fight, if only to prolong the inevitable. So he could avoid it for just a minute longer. He could have killed you long ago. But he hasn't.

The ground seems to simmer, rumbling with the sheer intensity of Satoru's cursed energy as the dust clears. He'd shot you down to the ground and here you were again.

"Barely even a scratch and you're on the ground already?" The quip is obviously meant to get a rise out of you but his voice is tinged with sadness. Get up. Get up, please.

You cough once. Twice. You feel something warm trickle from your lips and the taste of iron. "Cut the pleasantries, Satoru. We both know how this ends."

The sun sets below the horizon as he walks over, casting a shadow on your crumpled figure. You spit blood onto the concrete and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, lip stained scarlet. You're the picture of a pathetic and battered curse user, and you hope that the sight he sees before him now would be alien enough to him, that he wouldn't prolong this torture any longer. That his muscle memory would activate seeing something cowered before him and he would lift his hand and finish you off sooner or later. You hoped this way you wouldn't need to face him in this state, wouldn't need to get a torturously close look at the man you could have known in some other life had you chosen a different life.

The man you could have had.

To your anguish, he speaks. "I didn't want it to end like this."

You look away. You can scarcely bear to look at him right now without your heart aching. "...I know."

"I always hoped you'd come back on your own."

But that was wishful thinking. A sorcerer like you, after all that you' had done, would never be allowed to waltz right back into Jujutsu society, to return to that world and it's secrets and privileges as if you had never done the things you did when you followed Suguru all those years ago. No matter how much you might have daydreamed about it on occasion, no matter how many times you found yourself stopping by those campus gates and wondering what would happen if you walked your way back inside. Whether the key you kept in your pocket, a useless memento now, would still slot into your old dorm room. If your pictures would still be up on the wall, the hung up receipts from weekends out at the mall with Ieiri and Iori, the sticky notes Satoru had thrown at you in the middle of classes, ticket stubs from past missions.

And Satoru would be lying if he didn't say the same, if he didn't spend the first few weeks you left stopping by the freezer on his 7-eleven runs to reach for your favorite ice cream before remembering there was nobody to hand it off to. If he didn't learn a new trick or technique and didn't run to the dorm building to show you before stopping himself. If he didn't watch his students sparring from the bleachers, wondering if you would have been sitting by his side watching them too.

"They'd send me straight for the execution chamber and you know that-"

"You never should've left," he speaks bitterly, regretfully, as if his voice was straining just saying the words, "You should've stayed at Jujutsu Tech, you should've been there with the rest of us, we could've-"

You cut him off before he keeps talking and makes either of you ache any longer. "It's over now, Satoru."

"It didn't have to be, I -" he looks down, his mouth fumbling for words he can't find. His mind scrambles for any idea he could possibly have for bringing you back, and just as quickly as they come they form they dissipate, like a fistful of powder.

He squeezes his eyes shut, his voice breaking. "What am I supposed to do with you now..."

Your next words are spoken with finality. "Exactly what you were told to do."

The words make your throat tighten, make your arms tremble and struggle to hold yourself up. You keep your head down.

After a few moments he finally mutters a few words. "You're making this difficult."

"I'm sorry."

"Why," he whispers, "why did you do it?" His voice breaks. "Why did you leave me?"

Your face burns. You don't have the heart to tell him that when Suguru spoke, he spoke so convincingly. That after you saw the dead eyes of Riko Amanai in her shroud, young enough to be your classmate, young enough to be your sister, then walked back out into the swarming Tokyo streets wondering what she died for you wanted to throw up.

When you saw Satoru walk around like a living corpse, when you saw him have to force himself back into his usual self, that life had to somehow go on after all that had happened, you felt sick - sick.

So in your youth you thought that Suguru had found an answer. Some way that would bring us anywhere but here. Some world where you and everyone you loved wouldn't have to live and die like this.

"I thought I was doing the right thing-"

"You were one of the few good things I had left."

A silence settles between you two. Your eyes meet his.

Once upon a time he looked at you with the twinkle of a challenge in his eye, waking up in the morning looking forward to whatever stupid shenanigans you and the rest of your classmates would get up to that day. The way he looks at you now, with ten years in between your last meeting, since the last time you saw those eyes truly full of light and hope, he looks at you with the eyes of a dead man.

You couldn't live. You shouldn't. Or those eyes would haunt you forever.

When people look into the eyes of Satoru Gojo, they practically look into the eyes of God. The man who holds the balance of life in his very sight. Jujutsu sorcerers and cursed spirits alike cowered under his icy gaze.

But just as you had all those years ago, when you looked at him you only saw a boy. A boy whose heart left with you ten years ago.

You reach your hand up, sliding your fingers between his, and before he can even process it, his hand gently squeezes yours.

Please. Please.

For a moment he is quiet. For a moment his pulse jumps in his throat. For a moment he almost believes all those delusions in his head, that there was some way for you to return to Jujutsu. Return to him.

Your fingers fold around his, sliding and twisting his hand into a point directed straight to your forehead. You close your eyes.

"Satoru."

His name sounds devastating on your lips, the way you speak his name knowing it may be one of the last things you say and, God, if there was the right final word let it be his name.

Your name passes from his lips like a whisper in return. You two refuse to say anything more. You know if you say what you want to you run the risk of cursing him, and your shadow has loomed on him for long enough. Yours and many others'.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

The words sit, shapeless on your tongue. You don't dare speak them - for his sake. As much as it will kill you. As much as it would kill him either way.

Those unspoken words hang in the air, and Satoru breaks the silence.

"I-"

"Don't."

"Please-"

"I said don't-"

HIs voice begins to rise. "Please just say it, say something, anything-"

"You know what would happen if I do."

"I do! And does it look like I give a damn?! Don't leave me again, God, don't leave, stay with me this time. Give me that much, just don't go-"

"No," you say firmly, and you want to crumble when you feel the way he winces at your interruption. "... Please."

Satoru's hand trembles.

He swallows.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

“Another win for yours truly,” Satoru grinned, his hand held out to you. “Seriously, you’d think in three years you’d learn a thing or two,” he pouts pitifully.

“I’ve learned you’re an asshole!” You cross your arms over your chest, rolling onto your side. You huffed, a puff of dirt rising as you did. You hated meeting his eyes when he was gloating, he was always so full of himself after a match.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he throws his head back laughing as he leaned over you, nudging you with his hand, “get up and let’s to already. You’re covered in dirt, country girl. I mean look at yourself,” he picks up one of your glass shards and holds it up to your face so you can see your reflection. He sticks his tongue out and mock gags. “Uuuugly.”

“Shut up, Satoru!”

He laughs again, a sound warm like the sunshine itself.

“Come on, come on. I’ll buy you an ice cream.”

You turn onto your other side and huff again. He rolls his eyes, exasperated, but smiles at your stubbornness. He shrugs and lays down beside you. “Or is the dirt that comfortable?”

The two of you lay there for a moment under the setting sun, wrapped in the warm of the golden hour. His eyes meet yours and he’s stumped into a pause. It’s been three years since you arrived at Jujutsu Tech and you both have grown since then - him into a young man and you into a young lady of your own right. The light strikes your eyes just so, making them glitter like the sunlight on the sea. Had your eyes always been so beautiful? Had your hair always fallen perfectly around your eyes? Had the little sun freckles on your skin from your childhood in the fields always been so endearing to him?

His heart flutters.

His silence stuns you too. Satoru Gojo was never quiet. When you turn over you see his perpetually smug expression soften, lips parted, eyebrows relaxed, opening those famous blue eyes to you. A breeze passes, the wind rustling the trees above you, and you realize your so close that some of your hair could brush his cheek from here. His silence makes you feel compelled to whisper.

“Satoru?”

In that moment he almost feels compelled to say something stupid. So stupid. With your face this close to him his head is filled with stupid questions. Stupid thoughts.

Instead he flicks your forehead. You yelp and your hand flies to rub that spot.

“What in the world was that for?” you cry out.

“For making me lie on the dirt when it actually sucks.”

“I didn’ make you do anythin’!” There was that little accent slipping out again. He laughs to himself as he gets up and stands over you again, waiting for you to join him. You look up at him and look up at the sky.

"One day," you huff, "one day we'll settle this for once and for all. And I'm gonna win."

He smiles down at you. "I'll be waiting."

writing masterlist | bot masterlist

☾₊ ⊹ AN: omg about time i got this out of my drafts. i wrote like 80% of this on the plane and then had no idea how to actually end it, so i sat on it for a few days and hopefully this ended up working out idk. this is definitely longer compared to the other stuff i've done so i really appreciate it if you did end up reading all this way. byyyye!

[leahsgirl]

dramatic much | ella toone x female reader

veryyy short ella blurb to get back out there. no warnings.

sorry for my disappearance - writers block got the complete best of me and i hate every draft i make.

—

ella busied herself in the kitchen, occasionally stopping stirring the sauce in the pan to re-read the recipe on her phone.

some may say she’s been a little too aspirational in opting to make a three course meal for herself and you, considering she can barely make a bowl of cereal without something going wrong. but with her being away so much with with international duty and pre-season duties lately and little time for just the pair of you - she wanted to do something special.

in all fairness, everything was going to plan. she prepped the veg in advance, seasoned the chicken, and is yet to call alessia to come and save her (and the meal).

but nothing is ever easy in the world of ella toone, so as the brunette was jamming along to one of her notorious spotify playlist as well as peeling potatoes; she accidentally managed to slice her finger.

“fuckin’ el” she retracted her hand back in a jolt, watching in horror as blood pumped out of the small but painful cut.

she’s pretty sure this is the end, any minute now and she’s going to die from a haemorrhage which is why in a swift motion - like any self respecting adult would do - she whipped out her phone from her back pocket.

“hey babe.”

“how far away from home are you?”

“about five mins-ish, why?”

“i’m gonna die man! you need to hurry up.”

“what do you mean, what have you-“

but ella hung up and there you was; heart rate through the roof as you sat driving your car. it didn’t take long for you to get back though, probably breaking a few speed limits here and there.

“ella?” calling out as soon as you entered the premises.

“in the kitchen!”

you find the girl hunched over the counter-top, about thirty pieces (not an understatement) of kitchen roll wrapped around her hand. “what have you done?”

“bloody sliced my finger open.” you see the half peeled vegetables on the chopping board and piece two and two together, letting out an airy laugh “let me have a look.”

ella propped herself up onto the counter as you gently unravelled the tissue paper to reveal… a small cut. barely a nick, really, but enough to have your dramatic girlfriend convinced she was at death’s door. “oh my god you are such a hypochondriac.” 

“mate it was like a blood bath in here i nearly died.” the mancunian defended herself as you hummed along amused, searching for the first aid kit.

“it’s your fault too.” she vindicated.

“of course it is.” you said with a grin, playing along “what did i do?”

“if i wasn’t cutting potato’s for this meal i was making for you, then it wouldn’t of happened.” she huffed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“or maybe you and the kitchen just aren’t meant to be.” you opened a sachet of antiseptic wipes and motioned for her hand. “but i love the thought and effort.” you kissed her lips while slying cleaning the wound.

“shit shit shit!” the brunette pulled back and immediately went to wave her hand to stop the stinging “what you do that for?!”

“would your dramatic ass let me do it if i had told you? the answer is no.” you smiled sweetly at her and put a plaster over the cut. “there. all better.”

“wait you forgot something.” looking expectantly at you as you cleared away the rubbish. “what?”

“kiss it better?” you laughed at the childish behaviour but gave in, conceding a quick peck on her finger. “i’ve never known anyone as dramatic as you, ella toone.”

“good thing you love me isn’t it?” she hopped off the kitchen surface and smacked your butt.

“mhm. now go get changed so i can put that shirt in the wash.” pointing to the scattered red marks on the material.

“fine, but i’m stealing your hoodie.” she called over her shoulder as she made her way to the bedroom.

_

well what was supposed to be ella’s culinary masterpiece ended up being your handiwork. after convincing the girl she’d done enough damage for one night, you took over in the kitchen, following the recipe she found. to your surprise, the meal turned out pretty tasty. ella hovered around you the entire time, watching your every move like an eager student, offering unhelpful advice and distracting you with cheeky kisses. not that you minded—it was nice to see her so invested, even if it meant she spent more time fussing over her finger than actually helping

with dinner over and dishes abandoned in the sink, the pair of you was settled on the sofa, scouring the tv for literally anything to watch. ella was cuddled into your side, messing with the remote as you combed your fingers through her hair.

“why don’t we see what’s on netflix? i think there’s some new shows out.”

“ugh there’s nothing good on netflix anymore.” the brunette moaned.

“you’re so hard to please sometimes y’know.” you teased as you took the remote off her and put on a movie both of you liked, one that you watched together more times than you can count “happy?”

ella nodded, “i’ll go grab some snacks.” she manoeuvred off you and the couch, bending down to steal a kiss on the corner of your mouth, the brief contact leaving you grinning. you watched her disappear into the kitchen, hearing the familiar clatter of cupboards opening and the rustle of packaging as she gathered your favorites.

she was back after a couple of minutes, hands now full with a bowl of popcorn, a bar of chocolate and two cans of pop. “here you go m’lady.” she said with a mock bow, gracefully placing the bowl on your lap and handing you one of the drinks. “thanks babe.”

she went to the other couch and picked up the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders like a cloak and making her way back to her personal pillow (you).

“ah! shit shit shit!” the older girl was now hopping around holding her foot.

“literally what’s just happened?” you look on in disbelief because realistically how many accidents can this girl get herself into.

“stubbed my bastard toe.” ella hissed through gritted teeth “think i’ve broke it, swear I heard a crack”

“oh for fucks s-“

[yuri-is-online]

...so you just threw this beautiful idea of Fyuuture kid, and left me with a brainrot? Especially after you answered one ask with i quote "he loves his parent so much and was really fighting it to keep it together when he saw them alive again" end of the quote. WHAT DO YOU MEAN AGAIN? WHAT? HOW?

ask 1 and ask 2

Oh 👉👈? I wasn't expecting to get an ask about this au ever again actually, but I am so glad you did, I like it a lot. I mentioned Fire Emblem Awakening in the first ask I got about it but for those of you who haven't played the game, the plot features the children of your army traveling back in time to try and prevent the end of the world. That's more or less what happened in the fyuuture kid au, at least in my first draft... I always end up associating the "future kid meets their parents" trope with either FE: Awakening or I guess Golden Sun? Which I think is the name of the jrpg where something similar happens idk I just like there being a reason for the kid to need to meet their parents.

In my original draft of the au, Yuu was told by Crowley there was no way home for them, so they settled down with Yutu's father and started building a life together. This turned out to not be true, as the Magical Marshall's office began investigating the overblots that happened while Yuu was in school and came to the conclusion Yuu had something to do with them; so they were secretly arrested, cursed to forget everything about Twisted Wonderland, and sent home. The curse was meant to trigger every time Yuu vaguely remembered their time in the otherworld, with the idea their brain would prevent them from thinking about it after a while. They would have justified it, if anyone had been there to ask, by saying Yuu wouldn't know they were missing anything and would be able to live a happy life. When Yutu was born that made that outcome impossible, but the Marshal's office didn't think to check if Yuu was pregnant...

Shortly after they did that though strange things started happening. Monster attacks got more frequent, blot levels started rising, not to extremes immediately but still enough to be concerning. Reports of a strange, abyssal magic using beast, started pouring in to S.T.Y.X. suspiciously close to Grim's description. While Yuu was busy trying to put their life back together in their world, Twisted Wonderland slowly began to fall apart drowning under an ink colored sky. The overblot phantoms they fought come back and begin hunting in their respective homelands, and rumor has it they can turn certain mages into their thralls...

The curse slowly eats away at Yuu's brain, every time they see something that reminds them of their friends, their time at NRC, every time Yutu does something that would make them think about how much he takes after his dad, they feel a great deal of physical pain and temporarily lose the ability to function. It's killing them, and no doctor or specialist can figure out the cause, so Yutu just has to sit there and watch his parent slowly die and not be able to do anything about it. I was uncertain of where exactly I wanted Yuu to die in the story, but it always was around when Yutu gets isekaid to NRC, either before and he had to leave them behind or after when they both get to go home finally! But Yuu doesn't completely make it, they're able to have one moment of peace with their son and Professor Crewel before passing on.

Yutu's dad changes depending on who you want it to be of course, as does whether they met before he and his friends decided to go back in time to prevent this version of the future from ever happening, but his feelings about Yuu never changes. Yutu really admires his parent, he did even before he learned about them facing down overblots! They were really close and the more he learned about their curse, the more responsible he felt for their death. He's very determined to keep Yuu alive and safe in Twisted Wonderland in this timeline, even if it costs him his life.

His opinion on his dad really changes depending on who it is and what he learns about them. Like can you imagine learning your dad was known for being obsessed with teeth and no he had no intention of being a dentist? Clown behavior 💀💀💀 His friends were all ocs I made but never really developed... I do remember that one was a younger sibling of Kalim's (who could be his aunt if you like Kalim and absolutely embraces that role), her retainer, Crewel's son who also sees himself as Yutu's uncle (the feeling isn't mutual) because he is old enough to sort of remember Yuu and thinks of them as a sibling, and a random oc I based off of the kid from Up for no reason other than I like the movie. They also came back in time, but only Yutu ended up in the right place, just like fire emblem awakening.

idk I should probably do something with it. like writing the reactions for the other dorms...

[elliereject]

ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

[closetcasefabray]

i found this in my drafts, & i don’t remember when i started to write this, but ta-da! finally wrote something. this is not a cohesive whole (nor is grief so we can pretend it’s intentional).

also this phone business is awful—almost threw it when tripling the length of this (what was supposed to be) drabble 😒 forgive wonky formatting &/or typos. (laptopless life sucks)

this drabble-ficlet thing is for @snowandwolves bc our friendship is based in wrecking each other emotionally with avatrice au’s & headcanons. also some of this was inspired by sixth to the ninth hour, from which i will never recover. but this isn’t complete despair!

—

summary: beatrice returns to switzerland and tries to live her life. (canon compliant, s3, grief)

—

a thing that carries itself

—

It is when you are asking about something that you realize you yourself have survived it, and so you must carry it, or fashion it into a thing that carries itself.

(nox, anne carson)

—

beatrice knows hans could close the bar down on his own while blindfolded on a night like tonight—not much money to be made mid-week with dwindling tourists and seasonal stays—but beatrice doesn’t suggest it, and hans doesn’t offer. he’s come to recognize when beatrice needs some company, even if it’s just a couple hours and they exchange few words.

—

beatrice returned to switzerland a few days after camila found her asleep at the arc for the fourth time.

(jillian is moving it back to her lab to rebuild, camila offered with a gentle smile—one that expressed she too was hopeful, but not so much she wished to give beatrice too high of expectations.

beatrice knew, even with every scientific expert working on the arc, it would take over a year to repair the arc and source enough power within their earthly limitations for it to open even briefly. beatrice also knew it would likely require a decade of research before someone could go through the arc, let alone explore the alien realm beyond it.

as of a month ago, the arc team is still a few brilliant nuns led by a genius scientist, but when beatrice looks at them, she only sees young women—too young to be willing to die in a holy war—and a mother mourning the loss of her son for a second time.)

before she left, beatrice said goodbye through the arc—if only for the smallest chance a loving god would take pity on her and split open the barrier between realms just briefly enough for her words to reach through to ava:

see you at home. (i love you.)

—

when beatrice first arrived back to town, she became overwhelmed as she took in the remarkably unchanged neighborhoods, all the same buildings standing as they had when she and ava left in the night.

(the ache in her chest turned bitter, so much so she had to refrain from shaking the couples laughing and enjoying each other’s company in the sunshine—ava is gone. do you understand? don’t you feel it too? the absence of her?)

their old flat sat untouched as well; beatrice knew the elderly couple who owned the building weren’t eager to put much work into clearing it out to show it to young university kids who would be far too loud for their liking. (not that ava would ever be considered quiet—she had charmed them like she does everyone.) they warmly welcomed beatrice back and handed her the keys within the hour.

(she found a crumpled tank top of ava’s in the back of the closet and, holding it in her hands, pressed to her chest, she let herself cry for the first time in weeks, sitting on the dusty floor, counting the pieces of furniture in the room that ava once touched.)

the usually absent bar owner also returned the keys and beatrice’s managerial position before she even finished asking if they were hiring.

(what about hans?

he likes being head bartender.

there’s really no one else?

i’ve had two different managers and three different bartenders come and go since you and ava left. i can’t find a replacement half as good as either of you.

beatrice isn’t sure what expression he read on her face, but he didn’t say ava’s name again after that.)

—

throughout the next few weeks, beatrice thought returning to a place so full of memories of ava was possibly some misguided, catholic-guilt-induced self-flagellation—to wake up in their bed alone, to drink tea across from an empty chair, to walk the familiar paths to their favorite places without her—the lack ached in the hollow of beatrice’s core like penance.

maybe i’m meant to feel like this, she thought, and still thinks at times, but then she remembers ava in the gold room—the only thing holy in a temple devoted to a false prophet—telling beatrice to live her life. (gospel, she thinks.)

when ava kissed her, beatrice didn’t think of sin or hell. she thought only of the truth of ava’s lips, her body—capable of flight and phasing through stone—standing before beatrice and choosing love, a tenderness the world had never offered her. it was the opposite of sin—it was sacrament, a baptism that tasted of salt as they kissed, bathed in light.

so beatrice stays and tries each day.

(we are all just trying to be holy.)

—

in the months of staying, of trying to live her life, her friendship with hans has grown into something quieter and gentler than beatrice would have expected from the same bartender who had taught ava german curses and euphemisms. (beatrice would pretend she couldn’t hear as they whispered conspiratorially, knowing ava was familiar with more than half of the swears, but ava was still delighted by every cautiously murmured phrase hans offered her.)

it surprised beatrice at first, to find that hans actually likes her as she is—his overly organized manager-turned-friend who drinks tea out of the same mug every afternoon she comes into work and almost never drinks alcohol but will sip the occasional “virgin cuba libre” when he asks her to hang out with him after work for a shift drink. hans is even familiar enough with beatrice to occasionally tease her in german, her fluency allowing her to respond with a quick-witted retort. she smiles at his amusement, and he is thrilled by each new detail he learns of her.

beatrice is grateful to be closer to someone who doesn’t owe god his life, who remembers ava as ava—not the warrior nun or the halo-bearer.

(instead, hans remembers training ava at the bar, her focus when he taught her classic cocktail specs, and her enthusiasm that breathed life and vibrancy back into the bar job he had begun to find tedious. he remembers making ava laugh so hard her cuba libre came out of her nose, the little snort in her laugh when something amusing surprised her, the pout she’d use before asking for a favor—always far less effective on hans than beatrice. he remembers ava beaming when she mastered a new skill, her eyes finding beatrice to check if she saw—beatrice always saw and always smiled back; how could she not? beatrice was a moon in ava’s orbit, and she had no other option but to glow in her light.)

mostly beatrice is grateful that their friendship doesn’t try to fill the space and silence ava used to occupy; instead they fashion it into a kind of shared insulation for them to keep warm in the cold of grief. so when beatrice daydreams over the books at the bar and something startles her back into this realm without ava, she appreciates that hans doesn’t say anything to draw attention to the way her eyes shine with the sorrow of reality, like they did the first time hans said ava’s name months ago and all at once beatrice felt the air leave her lungs and her eyes burn. hans will stay nearby in those moments, offering an ear if she does wish to talk, but far enough she doesn’t feel obligated to explain it. sometimes it’s just the comfort of someone nearby who misses ava too.

(occasionally beatrice lets her mind project ava across the bar, watching her move from table to table, turning to beatrice and giving her a wink, hips swaying to a german pop song, sometimes accompanied by a little spin as if she wasn’t carrying a precariously balanced tray of glassware. but when the reel in beatrice’s mind starts to fade and flicker, she blinks and the shining sadness of her eyes dims into a melancholy others often mistake for stolidness—when the vision of ava smiling and making drinks beside hans blurs, it’s too ghostly for beatrice because ava is alive.

beatrice doesn’t find much comfort in god these days, but she still has faith.)

—

beatrice steps outside with hans, takes a deep breath, looks up at the unpolluted skies, and finds the constellations ava drew when they would sneak onto the roof of their flat when the nights were clear. beatrice has taken to writing the mythology of each one in her head as she walks home at night. she often considers writing some kind of scripture based less in fear and shame and more in love and forgiveness. maybe if she tells the stories enough, ava will return a new testament.

(but beatrice promised herself that once ava returns, she won’t share ava with the world—no temples, no saviors, no holy wars. beatrice wants to watch the sun set on the ocean, casting ava in golden light that doesn’t feel like a goodbye. she wants ava to press her lips to hers again but as a greeting, as a stay here with me. she wants to watch the sunrise spill across ava’s face like a promise beatrice will keep. she wants ava, and she is learning to forgive herself for this—the selfishness, not her love—beatrice’s love does not apologize.)

“are you off work tomorrow?” hans asks as they start walking the several blocks toward their respective apartments.

“yes, but if you need—”

hans shakes his head vigorously, and beatrice gives him a small half-smile.

“you should go to the library, get a couple books. if you come by, i’ll make you tea but you absolutely cannot work,” he says, pointing his finger at beatrice with an exaggerated sternness.

beatrice smiles a little wider, “i won’t.”

when they reach the cross streets where they part ways, hans wraps his arms around beatrice’s shoulders, and she wraps hers around his waist—a strange arrangement of limbs both of them had grown up unfamiliar with, something that ava taught them to appreciate—touch, closeness, a human intimacy too many would never admit they needed. so they make a point to hug each other for brief moments to carry that part of ava with them.

—

her nighttime routine unfolds as muscle memory so her mind wanders to work, hans, and always ava. she climbs into bed and imagines ava teasing her for keeping her shirt under her pillow, where she rubs the fabric between her fingers.

you always liked being close to me when we slept, ava would say.

i always liked being close to you when we were awake, beatrice would confess.

she savors the moments just before sleep, when those minutes are hers alone without obligations or the weight of the outside world—her mind in a free fall. (when beatrice was a child and her mother was kinder, she would soothe beatrice after a nightmare by telling her to think of all the exciting things tomorrow would bring.) as if directing the trajectory of her plummet, she chooses ava every time.

she closes her eyes and plays the memories against the back if her eyelids, setting her unconscious mind on a path toward a kind of imagined heaven, so maybe—just maybe—beatrice will see ava again in her dreams.

tonight she is walking into work, and ava looks up and smiles at her from behind the bar.

hey, bea.

hi. she feels something joyous swell inside her, and the glassware behind the bar starts to glimmer as she walks toward ava. i missed you.

we had breakfast together this morning, ava says with a laugh, but once beatrice is beside her, ava leans close and whispers, i miss you too, bea. everyday.

when ava pulls back slightly, beatrice sees it—the melancholy half-smile on ava’s lips, her dark, shining eyes. the shimmering light grows, and beatrice feels ava’s hands take hers and pull her closer.

i’ll see you at home soon. ava tucks a strand of bea’s hair behind her ear, and she feels herself lean into her touch.

ava—

it’s okay, bea. just wake up.

when beatrice opens her eyes, she can see the night sky outside her window, but the flickering light of her ocs necklace on her bedside table seems to light the entire room. she cradles it in her hands and decodes it on the first pass, but to be sure, she watches it flash three more times—ava is alive.

—

fin

—

thanks for reading!

some rambles/notes:

i almost never write from bea’s perspective bc she’s v smart—i’m decidedly not bea-smart (nor am i ava-smart but i am ava-eager-&-a-little-reckless, so that’s what i typically lean toward). so i think i did a rewatch & felt a little heartbroken. also p sure i drank half a bottle of wine during the rewatch so that may have been why this is [gestures vaguely] like this.

but anne carson and richard siken are my roman empires, so i named this after the opening anne carson quote from nox. and i will always think of avatrice when i remember we were in the gold room where everyone finally gets what they want . . . we are all just trying to be holy.

also what i didn’t include & is in my head:

- hans & bea’s talk about what happened with ava. basically “she had to leave, and i don’t know if… i don’t know when she’ll come back” & hans isn’t sure what it means but he never tells beatrice to move on bc he knows he couldn’t understand what happened. mostly he saw them together and he’s never seen beatrice smile the way she did with ava. also i said beatrice rarely drinks but she & hans have this conversation with wine involved. the drunk cry bar staff bond is real.

- the day beatrice realizes she’s been without ava longer than she was with her—she’s marking the date in the inventory book, then she just stops as her brain does the math against her will. hans sees her hands are trembling & he just knows. he takes bea up to the office & gives her some water. he asks, “do you think your home will help or make this harder right now?” so he has beatrice over to his small, neat apartment and he makes some food for her. he asks if it’s about ava & whether or not bea wants to talk about it. she doesn’t want to talk, but she says hans can talk about her. so hans tells bea some of his memories with ava. thus some of the memories included.

anyway, sorry? i guess?

also if you haven’t—read @snowandwolves fics if you want coherent & complete(ly devastating & healing) fics:

sixth to the ninth hour is canon compliant s3 & basically ava walks through hell to get back to bea. 😭 i cried. my heart ached. but also there’s plenty of spice 😏 [ava eyebrow wiggle]. all my favorite things heh…

leave the light on (i'll find my way home) is lighthouse au. our babes are so soft and in love 🥹 i went on a trip to see puffins & lighthouses bc of this. the whole fic is incredible, but there’s this one part in the lighthouse… i think it altered my brain chemistry in the best way.

[puppietooth]

let me preface this by saying i will love and adore and cherish s3 no matter happens. however, i will say — the one thing i want to see is carmy going out of his way to get back on sydney’s good side.

i’m talking begging for forgiveness, grovelling at her feet, bending over backwards for her.

imagine:

carmy gets out of that walk-in, sees the queasy look on her face, and is already drafting that notes app apology in his head. he tells her he’s sorry and that he fucked up and she tells him they managed to pull everything off without him but she cannot with his bullshit right now.

that hits him like a punch to the gut and, well, he gets it cause it’s definitely deserved.

but as the weeks go on, carmy tries to talk to her she only responds in shrugs, nods, and yes chefs. sydney goes home straight after service, after she helps with clean up, does not linger and talk in the office with him like they did before. carmy tries joking with her and she rolls her eyes more often than not. he asks her if she wants to work on the menu with him and she says no and he gets the feeling that she doesn’t even want to be alone with him anymore.

and that’s when he realizes — fuck. she’s so mad at him.

my girl is mad at me i want to die.

so? what else is carmy supposed to do but the most?

sydney comes in one morning and tells tina she was running late so she couldn’t stop by her favourite spot to get her morning latte. carmy overhears this and takes it upon himself to run to that spot, ten blocks over, to get her that latte. and when he gets back, sweetly and breathless, he gives it to her only to find out it’s the completely wrong order. but syd smiles, just a little, says a small thanks.

during family, he casually hints at the fact that he’s seeing a therapist now — says sorry chef i have therapy saturday afternoon when marcus asks if anyone would be down to go to the farmers market with him. because he needs her to know that he’s trying to get better. for himself, yes, but also for her.

his notifications are on and his phone is never on silent anymore — carmy vows to never miss a text or a call from her ever again.

carmy starts checking in with her about everything. when the walls need to be painted again he tells her, asks sydney if she’s okay with changing the floral arrangements but the bar, lets her know he’s ordering new aprons for the line cooks, runs tweets by her before posting them to the bear’s twitter account. and it gets to the point where syd has to tell him to chill — that she appreciates him not wanting to keep her in the dark, but some things just don’t need her approval. pats him on the shoulder and tells him it’s his restaurant, too.

it might come off as a bit showy but he tells her great work today, chef sydney after every service — because she is doing great work.

when sydney’s finally moving out of her dad’s place carmy is there, bright and early, moving her boxes into his car, trying to avoid the subtle stink eye her dad is giving him. again, deserved. he drives her out to her new place, helps her set everything up and lingers when she asks him if he wants coffee.

carmy shows up for her, everytime. he sets his own priorities aside, swaps them out for hers. sydney says jump and he asks how high?

it all comes to head on her birthday. before service he goes up to her and gives her a present — a scarf, fabric pink and decorated with prints of various different flowers. it’s soft and silky and he saw it on a mannequin in a window front while he was downtown a couple of weeks ago, immediately thought of her. she tells him it’s lovely and beautiful and she’ll wear it all the time but that he really didn’t have to — that he doesn’t have to keep trying to win her over, that she isn’t mad at him anymore, that she hasn’t been mad for a few weeks now, that she can see he’s trying.

then, sydney hugs him, strong and gentle at the same time, tells him — i see you, carmy.

whatever is supposed to happen after that does not happen because fak starts yelling about an exploding toilet from the room over so sydney scoffs and says she’ll go take care of it.

and it’s at that exact moment that carmy becomes aware of what he hasn’t been aware of but that has been there, right in front of him this whole time.

holy shit.

he likes sydney.

he likes her a lot.

[lxmelle]

Gojo’s letters & the implied parting message (Part 2)

I came across a view on Twitter (now X) that was interesting that I probably would have never thought of myself. While I may not agree with it 100% on its own, I can totally see the value in it and I wanted to share it here, seeing as how others may appreciate the perspective too. I’ve added my own thoughts which you’re welcome to read… Then you can make up your own mind about your personal interpretation 😊

So the sentiment is as follows:

At the end of HI, past-Gojo casually went up to Megumi to tell him that he killed his father, showing us that he is a little tactless. But, upon being told what Megumi wanted, he respected that Megumi didn’t want to know and accepted this for 10 years.

Despite that; however, we can infer from things we have been shown that he has always wanted Megumi to know. He was probably waiting for a good time. (As we know, Gojo doesn’t really impose his view onto others.)

Knowing there had to be a time where this message was delivered, he prepped the letter that would only be delivered if he (Gojo) died.

And what better timing & purpose, if it could help Megumi absolve any guilt he might have over (his body) killing Gojo? (Because him being dead meant Megumi likely killed him, thanks to Sukuna.)

According to the person whose Twt I read, they felt that Megumi’s laughing reaction was due to Gojo’s uncharacteristic consideration for him.

In other words, he was relaying it after he died to Megumi as a way to say: You got this cuz I’m dead. “And if you think your father is out there somewhere, he isn’t. It was me who killed him. Soz!” So don’t feel guilty.

Hm. Well, this was kind of echoed in at least another tweet and there were a few who made it out as if this was a fitting interpretation.

I also gathered from my last post on this subject, that Megumi was chuckling out of fondness, like “Geez, that’s so typical of you, sensei.”

But I do personally think it’s important to underline the fact that Gojo has always put in the effort to understand people even if he struggled to show it, or showed it clumsily. (Just like, “have you had too much somen?” - as said to Geto, back in the day.) So maybe it seemed uncharacteristic to Megumi, but I hope as a reader, we understand that Gojo had his own ways of being kind.

After all who can blame him if he didn’t quite fully understand what it meant to have blood family, being separated from his own? Born as an anomaly - a mutant amongst mutants. Who felt like others (flowers) couldn’t never comprehend a creature — and who could, unless they were bestowed with some monstrous skill themselves? (Like Geto, and Gojo had hoped, Sukuna... but the latter clung onto his stubborn self-protective belief of not needing “love” (compassion) until the very end, choosing to die instead of taking Yuji’s hand - another post on this another time).

And Gojo, after having been told last words from Toji and Geto about the importance of family, he may have gathered that it was better for Nobara and Megumi to know, than to have it concealed from them. Hence, the letters.

Know your family. Then decide who your family really is.

My own thoughts about the theory are as such: Gojo may have really wanted to tell Megumi that it was he who killed his father, because this was the only person he killed without a reason. (…that we know of: Gojo was canonically shown to have only killed two humans - Toji & Geto).

After Geto left, the parting message was: “don’t kill anyone other than me” - in other words, don’t do what I did, because that will make you lonely. If you need to kill, kill if there is a clear purpose or meaning in it.

This was his last lesson delivered to Gojo. We know his parting phrase was imbued with meaning due to everything we saw in HI and the draft words that Gege released from chapter (78) - important enough to make it to the exhibition and Gojo’s JUMP GIGA Character Book.

Geto played a significant role in him smartening up, how to connect with others, how to empathise with people, to think about what his responsibilities were as someone with strength.

So Gojo telling Megumi this was almost as if to say: you can stop wondering about him now; you weren’t left behind. I killed your father. You don’t have to feel responsible for it because there was meaning in it too.

In words Gojo might use: I killed him, you killed me. We’re even!

I guess it’s not only because Megumi couldn’t help it being Sukuna’s vessel. But also that he avenged his father’s death. All of Megumi’s thoughts relating to his father and Tsumiki as above: Retribution, karma, discipline… fairness and Megumi deserved happiness too.

And he chose to live again, starting by living for Yuji. A new purpose… he didn’t want Yuji to be lonely.

A loneliness I think he knew all too well.

He can add on more family after that. Nobara. Etc.

That’s it I guess. Thoughts?

[lomlompurim]

What if Without A Cure were a different type of poison, like a cursed potion that will consume a person's body & mind, slowly and painfully while they transform into a creature with little to nothing left of their human consciousness, ending up like a beast. Like a dragon.

A victim of this version of Without A Cure would suffer a series of gradual changes on their body: developing scales all over their skin, claws growing in their hands and feet, painful reament of bones, teeths being replaced by fangs, several migraines for growing horns out of their skull, and a tail.

What if the sessions of qi transfers with Liu Qingge and the herbs can only do so much to keep the transformation at bay, forcing the changes on Shen Qingqiu's body to step back for a bit. But as the days go by, these changes come again slowly, each time a little bit harder to fight. And the flares of Without A Cure make these changes happen at a violent speed.

He can hide the worst of it with a veil, gloves and a hat while being in CQ mountain. Having LQG and MQF helping him almost daily. But the peaklords (Specially YQY) do their best to keep eveything as private as possible. No one truly knew what this Without A Cure was capable of, since the few records of it's victims mark them as dead within a few days of being posioned, having "strange deformities in their bodies" as the only clue.

Maybe Binghe never really knew the true effects of the so called poison with no cure. He only knew his master sacrificed his cultivation and now needs qi transfers to help him endure the pain.

SQQ never really tolds him, he saw how guilty Binghe felt about the whole deal, telling him that he was slowly becoming a feral creature will only make the poor boy feel worse!! Unthinkable. It wasn't so bad anyways (it was) for now his draconic features are minimal, almost non existent after the qi transfers, everything is going to be fine. Maybe becoming a dragon can help him avoid death? Uh that's a problem for the SQQ of the future.

After the conference, SQQ's grief made things a little bit worse. Just a little. The pace of the cursed posion is becoming more bothersome as days passed by, now he can't go anywhere without a veil covering his face, and the little poking horns on this head can't be hiden by his hair anymore. Maybe he just should die and come back in his plant body to put a stop to this prickly curse. A lot of people, in or outside of the mountain think he covers his face out of vanity or bc of an ugly scar. Some weirdos are even trying to take a peek under his veil. Is this what Liu Mingyan has to endure everyday?! The urge to bite out those curious fingers is becoming stronger.

Then, what if when Huan Hua Palace takes him as a prisoner, a flare up happens and with no one to help him w a qi transfer, his horns grow severly inches long, his hands and feet are completly covered in grey scales, big black claws ripping his robes because his skin is itching like hell thanks to the new scales. His pupils become slit, his tail pokes out of the rags that his clothes became, everything is a mess and no one can see him like these.

What if when Sqq self detonates, instead of dying he sacrificed what was left of his humanity to stabilize Binghe, and he completly transformates into a huge white dragon, flying away into the sky, disappearing in the distance. Leaving a very confused half demon and a devastated war god behind, memories of his human life becoming blurry and far away.

What if some despicable palace master and a particular greedy demon royalty of the nothern region put a price on the head of the misterious white dragon that has been seen floating around the skies?

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Idk this is an idea for a bingliushen story. With without a cure having the effects of the first drafts that airplane had thought in this AU, when PIDW was not so popular yet. And no, the heavenly pillar can't cure this. In my brain this version of without a cure is older than the concept of dual cultivation with a heavenly demon being a cure to almost everything, so no magic dick can solve it, they would have to find another way.

In my mind Sqq's dragon form is like this from Zelda Tears of the Kingdom. Pretty big lizzard.