#I need to put her under a microscope. I need to stick her in a blender. I need to watch her to be stripped down to her very core

[blue-eli]

Thinking about Kairi & Sora but mainly Kairi and going insane. Girl you have so many issues

[angeltism]

tom.ura is a creature of a man. cro.nan has Problems and also acts weird (/aff) as fuck sometimes. v uhh i think killing people qualifies him for this tenfold. ody.sseus just Is like idk i feel like it's self explanatory despite me not being able to find the words. sun.day has a whole lot of shit going on and has So Many Problems he counts. mr re.ca just uhh look at him? yeah.

[gladiatorcunt]

- LIFE OF THE PARTY | IX.

take a breath, you’re the

cw: kinktober prompt (non con-ish, more of the aftermath), past non con threesome (between 18 year olds) w/ suguru, coercion, mentions of blood and virginity loss, past bully-ish satory, frat boy!satoru + nanami, toji (who’s the same age), sukuna, choso, & suguru, goth & tatted reader who has a vagina, non con voyeurism (?) and video sharing, implied the rest of the boys x reader (choso a little more implied), being attracted to the man who assaulted you and making poor decisions out of a need for survival, ooc!satoru, non linear moments, dead dove do not eat

please do not repost, translate or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

TWO YEARS AGO | ????’s Dorm Bathroom

“I’m the one that stuck around after I got my dick wet.”

He should’ve told you that he loved you, he should’ve shoved Suguru off of you when he had his turn and bashed his head into the tile. He should've cleaned you up and cuddled you in a bubble bath back at his apartment. What he did was wipe up the copious amounts cum and saliva up with your underwear and it wasn’t until he turned around so you could get dressed that he noticed the blood. On the floor, on your panties, dripping off his still hard cock. Satoru didn’t get to care about his heart falling out of his ass and straight into hell, because how absurd is it that this is the moment when he finally understands that his actions have consequences. Toy trains don’t run anymore when you play with them so roughly that their wheels fall off.

“I didn’t go in raw with her, ‘s not like you, I couldn't even stay hard until I looked at the pic of you I have by my bed. I brought it over.”

So why did he look at your limp body and still expect you to move? Didn’t you notice that you weren’t alone? Do you not care? His brain hadn’t caught up with his body when he ruined everything, and he wishes he had your first time in a bed, filled with only him. You weren’t paying attention to him anymore and he couldn’t understand why that made him so angry. He didn’t need you, Gojo Satoru doesn’t need anybody. He made no effort to stop the mean whispers about you from his friend group and he didn’t apologize for the way he “bullied” you in high school for having a stalker-y crush on him when you saw each other at orientation. But you looked so beautiful then, you still did when you were shaking on the cold floor in front of him. Staring all bug eyed up at the flickering artificial light, he wanted to scream when he hovered over you and your eyes didn’t focus on him.

In hindsight, that was a lot of words to use when he only needed three.

Satoru has to belong to everybody, but nothing ever has to belong to him. He has privileges that he earns by simply existing, but it can all be taken away from him with a single order. Is it so bad that he held you so tightly your bones broke and your guts spilled in between his fingers? That he wanted to stick your cells under a microscope so he could know you more intimately than anyone ever could? From the very moment he met you, he could tell that you truly understood him, and who would ever want to give that up?

If being irresponsible with money means splurging on a tattoo to make yourself feel better when you should really be buying groceries? Then you’ll put the shoe on and won’t whine when it fits. You’ve been in a god awful slump lately. Your assignments barely get turned in on time and you go weeks without brushing your teeth because you can’t be bothered to get off your ass for two minutes. So when Choso updated his tattoo shops instagram saying that they’re available for bookings, you jumped on the opportunity.

It’s your favorite place anyway, and you wouldn’t feel as comfortable getting a tattoo from someone that wasn’t working there. Even Sukuna, who makes a big show of acting all tough but will let you get pieces done for free if they’re from him. He’ll drive you home on his bike when a session runs a little late and you’re worried about walking home alone.

You have a lot of fondness for the place and its people, except for a certain gage wearing individual, but you’re trying to repress all that. He definitely doesn’t make it easy for you, he’s somehow always able to know when you’re coming and gets himself in the receptionist’s chair so you have to talk to him. He stares you down with his empty black orbs the entire time during an appointment, and the veins in his arms bulge when you inhale as the needle pierces your skin. He makes “jokes” that he'd be so gentle with you if you let him, and you don’t have the heart to speak up over a stern “Suguru.” He raises his hands in surrender and backs off, because he knows there’s always next time.

You fumble through your bag as you prepare to leave your dorm, making sure you’ve got everything. Sunscreen to re apply over your makeup later? Check. Your phone (with several texts from an unknown number flashing on the screen)? Check. Your wallet stuffed to the brim with old receipts and cards that you probably keep at home? Check.

You get almost five steps out the door before you crash into a solid chest. Your ‘oof’ is muffled by the stranger’s shirt, and when you take a step back you recognize it as a compression shirt that's gotten popular with a lot of the guys on campus. That’s why the muscle you collided with felt particularly…. firm.

“Hi, cutie! Fancy seeing you here.” Satoru chuckles, like he isn’t literally outside your dorm.

And just like that, all the good vibes and hopes you had for your day shrivel up and die.

It’s a shame that Satoru does look good in the shirt, the black sleeves cut off at the perfect point on his arms and he’s been good at knowing which trends will suit him better than the millions of other people buying into them. His eyes stand out in the dark fabric, as blue as you remember them and as terrifying. You gape at him for what must be a solid minute before your features twist up into a scowl and you’re darting around him to walk away.

“I live here, now fuck off or kill yourself, I don’t care.” You shout over your shoulder, praying that he doesn’t take off after you.

“Aw, that’s mean, babe! But I know you’d miss me too much, so I won’t do either of those. Have a good day!” You don’t hear him leave as he responds, but you’re past the point of obsessively cataloging Satoru Gojo’s every movement.

Your roommate let him in, in more ways than one.

“Alright, there we go. You’re all set, i’ll meet you at the counter and we’ll get you out of here.” Choso touch is light as a feather as he does the cleaning on your freshly tattooed skin.

A skeletal pattern over your hand, knuckles and all.

The sound of him snapping his black glove against his wrist makes you jump but he smiles, doing it again with a tender look in his eyes. He wipes down your finished tattoo and you grab your bag, heading to the counter to pay.

“You took it really well, I should've known you would when you told me you came in for a tattoo on one of the most painful areas of your body on purpose.” Choso teases, punching in your card details at the front.

They run a small parlor and are usually short staffed since most of the employees are also in the biggest frat at school and end up doing most of their appointments in whatever room’s available at a party. The shop’s not the most legal operation in general, but Choso and the others all did their apprenticeships right at 18 so they could have a place of their own as soon as possible. And so they could do their own ink and jewelry for free. Sukuna, Toji, Suguru, all of them got their piercing licenses too. Nanami’s their accountant. Satoru’s really the only one who isn't directly involved with the place.

It’s bad enough that one of your attackers always has a chance of being here, but it’s cheap and you feel a sense of comfort with Choso. That familiarity might be why you end up paying a lot less than you should, but it gives you butterflies to consider that as a possibility.

“Yeah, is it bad that I just thought it was cool? I don’t have any symbolic connection to it or anything.” You joke, thinking about how your mom would always say she’d prefer a tiny one, a flower on your shoulder or something like that for your first tattoo.

You’re a free pieces deep, each one nothing like she would have picked for yourself. You started getting them after the… incident, and it’s incredible how freeing it can be to explore your style and have everything on your body be 100% your decision.

Sukuna, the one with the closest workstation to the counter snorts, “Choso did some nice work on you, kitty.”

You roll your eyes, Choso’s younger brother never fails to hit on you whenever you find your way back into their shop.

Toji, done with his tongue piercing appointment, steadies a hand on his woozy client’s shoulder and looks over to you. “Sure did, must be why Suguru can’t keep his beady orbs off of ya. Not that I blame him.”

You stiffen, feeling said man’s eyes slither up and down your body, leaving a trail of tar and molasses that keeps you from immediately bolting. A fly preserved in amber, encrusted in gnarled old tree bark.

You don’t look back over your shoulder at him but you hear him chuckle and swat Toji upside the head, “Nah, just got a lot on my mind is all. I’m double booked. Your tat’s cool though, wish i could’ve done it in my style.”

The ‘It probably would’ve looked better’ is left unsaid.

Choso raises an eyebrow and reaches out to grab your wrist as he hands back your card, he strokes a line down your pulse point

“I think I did just fine, I'm the one you keep coming back to anyway, no matter how painful it gets.”

He ducks his head down when your heart skips a beat, wrestling with his smug grin.

A stormy look comes over Suguru’s expression but it’s gone in a flash of purple lightning when his client walks in through the door.

It’s when you say a reluctant goodbye to Choso and leave the parlor to head towards the nearest grocery store that your phone goes off.

It’s from an unknown number but you know exactly who it is, you’ve blocked Satoru multiple times and he keeps coming back with a different number.

The message is a single video without an accompanying taunt, and you really shouldn’t, but your morbid curiosity wins out.

You notice your roommate's ankle bracelet slung over his shoulder very quickly, you also see more of her stretched out pussy than you ever wanted to.

Satoru chuckles behind the camera, zooming in on where their bodies are joined, he’s fucking her raw and her folds look startlingly red. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t bullshit through any bad dirty talk or narration for the audience (of one). A blessing, all things considered, he loved to yap your ears off when he took you. Satoru Gojo is rarely ever silent, even when deep down he doesn’t feel much like talking.

But he’s gone quiet as a church mouse, the only sounds coming from your phone are sticky smacks of bare flesh against bare flesh and your roommate’s muffled moans. Anytime she tries to scream, Satoru tightens his grip on her mouth and slaps her tits, which becomes a vicious cycle.

The video shows his torso at an angle, fat pecs and chiseled abs glistening as they clench. He has a fucking smoking hot body, one that you wish you weren’t forced to know more intimately than the girl who in that moment is currently all up on it.

You watch when she cums around him, a car running into a tree, but you click out of the video when Satoru cums inside her, a cargo train crashing through the car AND the tree.

Your mind is as scattered as those bits of debri and human flesh, welded to the tracks but you can feel movement above and around you.

Nanami’s hand cups your shoulder when you’re distracted during your study session later that day, he’s tutoring you in french for free and you’ve taken absolute advantage of the opportunity. It’s just one of those fuzzy days for you, especially since you can’t stop thinking of the video.

“Everything okay?” He murmurs, leaning closer with worry flickering in his warm eyes.

You nod and shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, just a little tired. Been really stressed lately.”

He wishes you would let him help with that.

Sometimes Satoru plops down on his ten thousand dollar leather couch and imagines what it would be like to kill Suguru. It’s what he should’ve done, years ago back in that dingy bathroom with a singular lightbulb that you could never quite tell if it was going to stay lit. He could’ve charged into the other man’s body and smashed his skull into the mirror until clumps of his black hair fell on the floor and blended in with shoddy tile work. All he’d be able to hear is your pitiful hiccups, his blood would be rushing to and fro in his ears. He would’ve

Other times, Satoru imagines what it would be like to kill himself. In front of you of course, because even if he’s doing it as a sacrifice to your shrine, you’d never forget him. Trauma can do funny things to your brain, if he left you alone you might hide him under several layers of heavy fog. If you won’t love him, at least let him be remembered by the only person he thinks he’s ever cared about. You’d be happy if he stayed away, but you wouldn’t be safe with anyone else but him, so he’ll take all the screaming and throwing shit at him that’s to come.

As long as the tiffany blue box tucked away in his nightstand isn’t one of those things.

It’s why he calls his usual people and pays a good chunk of cash to throw your roommate off their shoulders like a sack of potatoes and kill her somewhere private. He has a chemistry class in fifteen minutes, and a fraternity meeting right after. Satoru’s annoyed at having to make that long trek between buildings, but it’d probably be a good way to work the energy off. What’s-her-face was really starting to piss him off, snoring as loud as a vacuum cleaner on the pillow next to him. She couldn’t even make him cum, but that’s to be expected, she’s just not you.

He didn’t hit it raw though, that’s a privilege reserved solely for his (future) baby.

When he graduates, goes to dental school, and becomes a dentist, he thinks it’d be so romantic to be the one you went to. Cleaning your teeth, praising you for how well you’ve been brushing and flossing, leaning down for an upside down spider man kind of kiss when the appointment’s over. If you’re sporting a cute little rounded belly and an angelic glow during one of those appointments, well, don’t tell anybody what he needs to imagine to fall asleep with anything resembling a genuine smile.

Shit, he hopes Choso remembers to re-stock the orange juice and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Nanami’s been pissed ever since Satoru finished them without asking, now they have to share the Captain Crunch Berries. Hiroguma doesn’t mind the turn of events. All Satoru can do is wonder which one you’d like more if you stayed over at the house.

“Shh, shh, shh. You’re alright, cutie. Just a little longer, this pussy’s so tight I'm gonna cream it in no time, ‘kay?” He whispers into your hair, his dick pistoning in and out of your sopping cunt, hunting you down even as he’s currently inside you.

He tells you these things, because of course Satoru Gojo knows you and your own body better than you do. The only time he’s ever touched it and it’s like this, violating you for his own pleasure and accidentally discovering what fuels yours along the way.

You’re crying, because he’s learned that despite your prickly personality you like soft touches and sweet words, but don’t hold it against him. He’s a horny teenage boy, it’s all trial and error. It could be a lot worse for you, he couldn’t not eaten you out first and just plowed your ass like he was gonna die tomorrow.

You feel like you might, watching your blood drip down onto the dirty bathroom tile, you’re a leaky faucet now. Rusted and having so little left to give but you keep on giving (and taking) because there’s nothing else you can do.

Satoru spills into your guts with no warning, fucking down into you like you’re nothing but a pocket pussy. You’re just so pretty, sobbing and clawing at his shoulders. He’ll wear the red scratch marks with pride, maybe ask Suguru to lick them and tell him what they taste like, share it with him to get the little remnants of your bitten nails down his throat.

He climbs off of you and picks up his phone, his fingers sticky with your juices make the device slip and slide in his grip but he manages to not drop it. You may as well be dead on the floor but Satoru’s too busy texting the video of what you just did to Suguru. He smirks and his cock twitches, imagining the look on his best friend’s face, the envy.

He never tells you if the goal was to make Suguru want to join, you never want to know.

When you come back, black and red rose petals poke out under your door.

You snap, slamming your door open and gawking at the audacity of Satoru Gojo, nestled on the covers of your bed like he was waiting for his baby to get home from a stressful day out in this big scary city.

You don’t remember the questions you ask even as you’re asking them, all you’re retaining is the blush on his face and how pretty his blue eyes are when he’s about to get everything under the sun because it might as well have a ‘Paid for by the Gojo Family’ plague on it.

You’re so fucking tired, and you put up a fight but that’s all out of you now. There are multiple ways to make something go away, like absorbing into your body so at least you’re partially in control.

“I’ll forgive you if you’re good and keep your filthy hands to yourself until I tell you otherwise, okay?”

He obeys and sits perched on the edge of the bed, watching as you hover above a glass dildo purposefully smaller than he is. You bite your lip, lubing it up until your hand is slippery and you keep losing your grip.

Satoru imagines this it at a frat party instead, and the music is pouring from the open windows as people fuck around outside and inside the house, drinking from cheap plastic cups and novelty shot glasses. He’d take your hand and lace his fingers through yours, taking you upstairs to his room.

Your rum and coke would loosen you up, and you’d grind in his bed to the beat bumping through the floor. Satoru would bury his face in your neck and beg you to let him touch you like he really wants to. You’d sigh and he’d grin, skirting his long fingers under the edge of your lace panties and fingering you right there before picking you up and throwing you flat on your back.

He’d promise he’d pull out, he thought he had more condoms in his nightstand, you wouldn’t care and would beg to stay inside no matter what. You’d have a little Toru Jr. a couple semesters later.

But that universe doesn’t exist. You’re riding a small toy to an unsatisfying orgasm and Satoru just has to sit there and watch you, leaving your clit neglected and your mouth unoccupied by his eager kisses. You spit at him that you should just pull the dildo out of you and ram it up his ass without warning, but he’s so desperate to chain you up and tie you down that he’d probably like it. You only want to do something he wouldn’t like right now, a swan song for your dignity and self respect. It’s been a few years since those things were once part of you too.

Your breath hitches and your eyes get teary, Satoru can’t help but to shuffle over to where you’re kneeling on the bed. You moan as his fingertips come into contact with your swollen clit, and laugh deliriously when he perks up like his dad just surprised with a new car to have someone else drive for him.

“So fucking typical.” You whine, bouncing on the dildo and wordlessly begging him to keep playing with your bud. “Can’t ever do something you don’t wanna do, always to be someone else’s job.”

The blinking light in the corner of your bookshelf will come in handy when Satoru’s fast asleep in your bed and you’re sending a video of your own to Suguru.

You’ll both wake up to someone furiously pounding on your door, the world will spin round and round only to end up at the same place.

A frown flickers across his face at the pure death in your tone. He wants to know your favorite colors and what you love to eat and what makes every stressor in life fade away, but all he knows is what you look like when you cry yourself to smithereens while you cum.

“You’re the best at everything, honey.” He softly chuckles, water laps at his hairline, he’s almost drowning.

That isn’t quite true clearly, you’re not the best at stopping yourself from being assaulted, like that’s something you be and therapy’s something you can win.

“Thank you, Toru. so are you.”

That is true, for better or for worse as the saying goes.

[adeadcreator]

hii ♡, first time requesting anything, so i'm a little bit nervous ( ＞Д＜；), but i love your work sm and id love to see this hc i thought about!

jojos reactions finding out the reader likes to make portraits of them but is always too scared/embarassed to show them? (*´-`)

thank you so much if you do 🥐

NO need to be worried!! I love seeing how creative others are! ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ I just had to put this request in two parts, since i have no self control when it comes to writing :')

Part 2 <-

Jonathan:

He found you under an oak tree, pencil in hand as your (E/c) eyes skimmed the area, it wasn’t an unusual spot for you to be. For as long as he’s known you, you’ve been attached to your small sketchbook, “(Y/n)! There you are, I’ve been looking for you!” He called out as you perked up. 

“Oh, hello Jonathan! I was wondering where you were” He neared as you placed down your sketchbook, your smile growing as he began telling you about his past few days. His rambles never seemed to cease, not until you both noticed the sun meeting the horizon. 

“Ah, I must get home soon before the sun sets, I’ll see you later than Jonathan!” You said before gathering your art supplies, giving Jonathan a sweet kiss on his cheek, You were quite the distance away as Jonathan realised that you had left your sketchbook.

“(Y/n) you’ve left your sketchbook...” he called out as he watched as your figure became microscopic, he glanced back at the small book. 

Should he take a short glance? No, no a true gentleman shouldn’t, yet the small book seemed to be calling his name as he grabbed a small stick. With each centimeter he took, he held his breath, at least until he was startled by a familiar malicious blonde.

“Oh and what is this? A journal?” The blonde English man snatched the small book as Jonathan gasped “Dio! Place that down, That’s (Y/n)’s, you mustn't glance through it!” Jonathan neared the blonde as he mimicked his step-brother.

“Blah Blah, aren’t you at all curious about the contacts it may hold?” Dio asked as he waved the book around, Jonathan was conflicted for a moment, of course he was curious especially since you kept it so close, away from his eyes.

However nothing was worth losing your trust, “No, I am not.” The blonde glanced at his step-brother before scoffing “Well I am, now let’s see what she’s been hiding!” the blonde devil smiled wickedly as he flipped through the pages, all while Jonathan attempted to snatch the book back.

Though the two stopped their small game as Dio gave a baffled expression “There’s nothing in here, just your neanderthal face.” the blonde forcefully showed the shocked navy haired boy.

Truth be told, Dio was right, with each page a variation of him was there. Sketched with such precision it seemed as if it was a photograph, he felt a soft bang in his heart as he took the book from Dio; who was rambling about god knows what.

Joseph:

You and that damned sketch book. No matter where you were or what you were up to, he was expected to see you hand in hand with your black sketch book. You carried it as if it was a treasured relic, even when he was training under Lisa Lisa rigorous test.

“Hey, what is it about that book you always have to have it with you?” he asked, leaning into your personal space. Slamming the book closed as he glanced from your now shut book to your face, he could see a glimmer.

Of what exactly? He wasn’t sure “Oh what was that Miss Lisa Lisa, you need me?” You questioned, pretending to hear her voice before bidding Joseph goodbye. Leaving him puzzled and intrigued as you slipped away from him, sketch book in hand. 

Despite his numerous requests and pleas for a simple glimpse of the pages of your sketchbook, you never caved in “For the last time Joseph, no.” much like a whiny child, he clung onto you as you waited patiently “Please, please, please (Y/n)! I promise to do whatever you want!”

You had to give him credit, his commitment to this was astounding “Will you leave that poor soul alone? you're like a whiny brat.” Caesar asked as he seemed to be more annoyed than anything, though Joseph ignored the harsh blonde “Please, I’ll even do your chores!?” Caesar suddenly pulled the brunette off you as you lightly laughed.

“You hardly even do your chores Jojo, So I don’t think you’ll hold up your end of the deal. Speaking of chores, I have to go see if Miss Lisa Lisa needs help with the laundry. Bye bye jojo~” you bid farewell to Caesar as well.

Though not before catching a glimpse of Joseph being more dramatic, expanding his arm as you began leaving. Hearing Caesar’s lecture before feeling a harsh momentum crashing onto your lower legs, causing you to let go of your book and stumble onto the ground.

Complete horror plastered on your face as Joseph reached down to your spilled pages, slamming your head onto the floor as you heard rustles of pages. You hadn’t even bothered to lift it up as you heard some playful gasps, “I never knew you loved to sketch me! Man these are really good and detailed, Say why don’t I pose for you on your next one~” 

Jotaro:

A pair of (E/c) eyes. That's what he first made eye contact with as they turned away once again, At first it did startle him, not that he showed it, but soon after he had gotten used to them staring at him at such odd times before they moved onto something else. 

No matter where, no matter the time, he could always count on the pair of (E/c) eyes to sneak glimpses of him. “So, What are you drawing now (Y/n)?” Kakyoin asked as he glanced at the page briefly before stepping back.

“Nothing too interesting, just some plants and fabrics” you said as the red-head boy gave a knowing glance before pointing at the paper “Try to narrow this part more, otherwise it’ll look like their constipated” 

Laughing you hardly noticed a curious set of blue eyes attempting to sneak a glance of the paper. Though with no such luck as (Y/n) shut the book softly.

You both were shoulder to shoulder as the car continued on the desert land, with the senior Joestar rambling about who knows what and Polnareff trying to get the attention of Avdol.

Your fingers smudged with the charcoal, gently enough to create a soft grey. You had listened to Kakyoin's advice and narrowed the familiar pair of eyes.

This had to be one of your better portraits of Jotaro, not that the others were hideous, this particular one seemed to catch his essence better.

You hadn’t even realized the pair of blue eyes watching your every move, not until you began to shut the book. When he gently held it open, your (E/c) eyes widened as he glanced down.

“Looks good.”

Josuke:

“What do you think he’s saying to em’?” Okuyasu asked as he lowered his binoculars “Like I care about what he’s saying, look at how he’s invading their personal space!?” Josuke practically screeched.

Not far from the famed manga artist's home, Josuke and Okuyasu were hiding in the bushes as Rohan pointed something out once again.

Ever since school had ended for the summer break, you had been in the presence of Rohan. Sometimes posing for him in exchange for some art lessons “That bastard is gonna pay for touching her face!”

He clenched his fist dramatically as Okuyasu nodded along “Let’s go beat him up!” Right as the pompadour boy was about to reject his friend's offer he watched as Rohan passed the (H/c) haired girl her sketchbook back.

Something not even he had laid eyes on, a surge of jealousy inflicted upon him. Glancing up from the manga artist (Y/n) saw her beloved boyfriend walking up to the two in a menacing manner “Oh hey Josuke, I thought we were meeting at Tonio’s later.?”

“Yeah we are but not before I teach this bastard a lesson on social distance” His face was filled with anger as he neared the two, though not before an explanation from the terrified manga artist.

“What are you talking about you idiot? I was teaching her how to draw facial expressions?!?” Rohan screeched towards the end as Josuke’s stand emerged.

The manga artist ripped the sketchbook from her hands before opening it, showing the array of portraits of the pompadour boy. Josuke quickly stopped his stand as he looked upon the pages, all while (Y/n) stood in embarrassment.

“Hey this isn’t half bad, should I pose for you now? That way you get a better angle of my hair” he said as he began retouching his hair.

[blixabargelds]

can u summarize superstars main characters please ? new to this au and i am tuning in

hiii yes ofc it’s being written alternating between gale and johns pov, im writing gale’s which is why you see sm of that. my bestie elo is writing john’s and they’re internet shy which is why you don’t see that jgkgkj

gale is a lil shy, pretty quiet, joins the band after seeing one of their shows bc they need a new bassist and him n john are in love almost immediately lol. he cannot play bass. rosie teaches him :3 he’s got pretty intense anxieties around keeping the people he loves safe after his mom died when he was younger. he’s a bit of a demon in bed. he’s a really hard worker n gets good at bass pretty quick. he can’t write lyrics but he’s incredibly good at picking out patterns that sound good, working with song arrangements, approaches music like a lot of things as a formula to be worked out meticulously. he lives w john in johns apartment. he’s pretty dependent on him, bc he’s practically a runaway and has no money, which isn’t usually an issue but definitely becomes one at a few points. he finds it hard to open up but once he places his trust in someone he’ll come out his shell. rosie is kind of his best friend.

john’s the frontman/ singer/ shouter in there band. he’s very good at writing lyrics. can’t really play any instruments. he’s a kid from a broken care system, never knew his parents. has a shady criminal past with curt but he is a very sweet guy. he’s got the biggest heart out of all of them. walking disaster. uses humour to cover up a lot of hurt, and to keep a Lot of secrets. he’s absolutely head over heels for gale. can be incredibly bossy in band practise, and in bed (gale likes that). has a lot of self destructive habits, a lot of self worth issues. will do literally anything for the people he loves and i mean Anything, but will do almost nothing for himself. him and rosie dated when rosie was in college, which is mostly fine and sometimes pretty messy. we kind of accidentally reinvented richard hell with him.

curt is the drummer. he’s johns best friend from way back when, they’ve done some shady business together in the past. his dad was a criminal, a violent man, but someone curt weirdly looked up to in a lot of ways as a kid. he was strong n didn’t take any shit. curt def separated himself from his family when he got a little older though, realised his dad was running business thru some boots and braces types and curt didn’t want any part in that world. he’s fiercely loyal to his friends, honestly the best person you want on your side. frequently the voice of reason in the band. very cool headed. saves gales life at one point, has definitely saved john’s before. musically he’s an absolutely rabid drummer, like whiplash sticks bloody etc. he’s also a lil basic. or maybe just very straightforward. like his favourite band is black flag. nothing wrong with that but he does roll his eyes at rosie when rosie asks him if he’s heard the latest release from someone no one ever in the world has heard of.

rosie is the guitarist. rosie is. ahhh. insane. lol. he’s patrick bateman. he’s jesus christ. he is a musical genius, he’s got classical training, can play like 10 different instruments, he went to julliard. his parents are seriously upstanding citizens who wanted him to be a classical prodigy but their overbearing attitudes drove him toward punk and distancing himself from them. his mother is Nuts. rosie is endlessly kind and also cold inside, he’s the best friend you want and also the grim reaper. he’s sooo sexy. he does not call women back ever. he had a big breakdown in college. he’s like a lil cracked. but also outwardly so steady and so put together. i have to study him under a microscope. he will play the harp for 6 hours straight until his fingers bleed to avoid having one thought.

fun minor characters include; sandy (rosie’s ex who keeps cropping back up. rosie’s mom Loved her. she’s probably rich enough to not care about voting but she thinks trump is just hilarious), ulrich ([redacted]), Big Tom ([redacted]), and marge. sweet marge gale’s childhood sweetheart who’s always there for him even when they never really see each other anymore.

[mari-lair]

Mariiii you’re the resident Akane analyzer. I may need your help lmao.

Sooo, in my swap AU, I made Akane Mitsuba and Mitsuba Kou. Akane was still childhood friends with Aoi but that was because she basically saw this kid being picked on (I say this word loosely) by mokke and intervened. Turns out his near death experience caused him to see supernaturals! Yay!

Their canon relationship as childhood friends remains the same really. He still gets a crush on her because she shows her true emotions to him but then he dies saving Mitsuba from truck-kun and comes back as a ghost whose very apathetic and not really understanding of people’s emotions. He’s blunt and straight forward and isn’t hesitant to call people out even if it’s the cold hard truth.

My problem is uh…

No.3 Akane lmao?

He doesn’t have any memories of Aoi or his life. The first person he meets is Mitsuba. My one idea was that because Mitsuba was nice to him, Mitsuba kinda becomes his Aoi, except instead of love confessions, he kinda just.. constantly stalks him 😭. And then in picture perfect, I was trying to figure out how No.3 Akane would react to his previous self? And how he’d essentially do the “you care more about that Akane than me” thing….

You’re like resident Akane expert so I had to ask you 🙏🏾

I feel like i am missing a lot of information to be of help uygyug 😭

(Did alive Akane had any connection with Mitsuba since he could see supernaturals after his near death experience? If not, how did they meet? Did he already had No.3 when he meets Mitsuba? Does exorcist mitsuba has similar people pleasing/longing to belong issues of canon sousuke? If not, then what is the issue he is working on? And so on)

About Akane stalking Mitsuba, that makes sense! I can see an Akane with no memories, no friends, and no goals, getting attached to the first connection he makes (even if isn't a deep connection) and one of the few humans that can see him, following Mitsuba around and getting more attached/intrigued by him, but I don't think you should restrain yourself to canon and obcess over paralleling canon events/scenes just because of their roles (exorcist & amnesic No.3 ghost) since they are still different characters at their core.

The “you care more about that Mitsuba than me” canon moment was iconic, but that's because it was tailored for their characters, the reason Mitsuba had said that was more related to Kou's behavior than his role as an amnesic ghost: Kou was constantly seeing No.3 as Mitsuba the human (I talk about it on the start of this post if you're curious as to why I believe this) so that moment was a call out on Kou. It would require a lot of distorcion or character tweeks to put both Mitsuba and Akane in that kind of role/plot.

If this picture perfect moment really is what you want, something you're excited for then do your best! I might be able to help (? idk how i'll be honest but i'll at least try ygyugyu) if you give me more details on the Mitsuba and Akane situation, but I personally would advise you to have fun coming up with something entirely new. Poke your characters with a stick, put them under a microscope.

Since Akane is bad at understanding people's emotions now, and he is more attached to Mitsuba than Mitsuba is to him (from what i got from only this ask), Akane could be the one that crosses a line and make Mitsuba snaps, he could become curious of his old life with Aoi and try to use Mei canvas in an attempt to understand better what he used to love, but also try to insert Mitsuba in this life, unwilling to let go of his current only real connection with mitsuba (which would result in a weird picture perfect where mitsuba and aoi are friends too instead of him only being friends with Akane, which would be double as suspicious/confusing/messy). Or Akane could see this picture perfect world as a chance to help Mitsuba by taking something Mitsuba says too literaly, unable to understand he fucked up until mitsuba snaps at him. I am honestly just spitballing random ideas (cause again, i don't have much info on their relationship) to show canon doesn't have to be a strict rule. Hell, Akane could even be more passive than canon mitsuba's role was to kou, you have the power to tweek a lot, and it is a fun power! :D

[queenofbaws]

Don't know if you still do OT3 sort of things, but if you do, Ashley discovering she's Bi simply because she can't take her eyes off Chris and Jess down at the beach or pool

catch me catching up on some prompts ;)c

Ashley's hand barely skimmed the bottle of sunscreen before she forgot about it completely, her fear of burning up by the side of Mike's pool immediately forgotten when she caught Emily staring at her...and staring at her like that, to boot.

"Um. H-hi?" she stammered, yanking her hand back like she'd been scalded, watching Emily watch her, and...yeah, no part of this was good.

Emily sat with her elbow on the arm of her lounge chair, her chin resting elegantly on her hand and her sunglasses tipped down juuust low enough for Ashley to make out the almost clinical way she was looking at her. Her eyebrows were high - distressingly so - absolutely disappearing under the rim of her sunhat. She watched her for a second longer, then, cool as you please, drawled, "I want to study you under a microscope."

"I - what?"

"No, I'm being serious. We need to put you in a facility or something."

"Excuse me? What are you - "

"Who hurt you? Can you tell me that much? Is it that you were dropped on your head as a baby, or...?"

Okay, now it was getting mean. She sat up in her own chair, nervously tugging at the towel she'd draped around her shoulders. "Emily, I have no idea what you're talking about!"

Without bothering to explain herself, Emily reached out with her other hand, cupping Ashley's chin in her palm. She directed her face off towards the Munroes' deck where Jess was sticking a little tiny umbrella into her drink, laughing and chatting with Mike and Matt as they stood by the grill.

"So the whole staring at Jessica thing makes sense. No, really, shut up, it does. I mean, look at her! You'd have to be blind to look at her and not think, 'Yowza.' God knows she spends enough time in front of her mirror in the morning to get to that point. And her picking out a swim suit that skimpy? Not an accident. Defffinitely not."

"I - " she started, only for her voice to die in her throat. Oh, she was aching for that sunscreen now - she felt like she had steam coming out of her ears! "I-I wasn't staring at - "

"You were," Emily cut her off. "That's not the problem, though, like I said. Nonono. The problem...is...this." She turned Ashley's head the way she'd done before, but that time she angled it towards the diving board, where, God help them all, Chris seemed to be preparing to jump while holding every pool floaty available to him, Josh cheering him on from the ground while Sam watched on, shaking her head. "If you had only been staring at one of them with big, fat, goo-goo eyes today, you know what? I could understand. Hell, if you'd been looking at Jess and anyone else today, I could understand. Mike, Matt, Sam, me, whoever. But Chris? Chris and Jessica? You have got to enlighten me here - what the fuck is your type, exactly?"

"I, uh, I mean, I..." To her horror, she realized Emily actually expected an answer. "C-cute?" was the best she could manage, though. All considering, she thought it was a fair enough response.

But Emily just blinked again, sighing as she let go of her face. "Then we return to my original point. I want to study you. Under. A. Microscope."

[the-way-astray]

Hi! This is the meta anon here (as I'll take to calling myself). I have read your response to the meta and I agree that Keefe doesn't actually do things like apologizing or self-reflection without external consequences to motivate him. This was a regrettable oversight on my part since I confess that I don't spend many hours of my KOTLC fandom exploits specifically loving or hating Keefe.

HOWEVER, I do believe that your hatred could set him on the path to self-reflection. My justification is that he doesn't particularly enjoy being hated. He will try to make you fall in love with him. You'll keep on hating him. Somewhere along the way he may have a good long think about himself because of the consequences.

Justification for the justification: Keefe despises being hated. He (obviously) isn't comfortable being hated by his parents even though he works to make him hate them because they're despicable people to varying but undeniable degrees. There's still a 'popular boy' who's actually a friendless (except for Fitz) kid who feels like he needs to keep up the humor and his trademark smirking (and so forth) to make people like him. The idea that someone hates him so vehemently may even make him take it as a side-project-challenge to make you like him. Cue the self-reflection.

Allow me to explain with a fic (sadly no strieefe for the strieefe enjoyers but. gen). Inspired by Alayda and the Never Change anon. Sincere apologies for probably mischaracterizing you (and Katie).

*

hate your lover, love your hater, and be studied by her friend: pt.1

When on a pleasant Friday evening in September Stria received a message from an unknown number, she blocked the number, posted some fascinating thoughts about Aldella on her Tumblr blog, and then proceeded to go to sleep.

The next morning, she had another message on her phone. In her half-asleep daze she opened the message and read the following:

Hey!! This is Keefe 'Lord Hunky-hair' [last name redacted for annoying-daddy-dearest reasons]. I saw that you blocked my human number yesterday, which was a little mean of you, so I had a Technopath friend of mine unblock it on your phone. It was brought to my attention that you put a lot of effort into hating my guts. Could we maybe fix that up and become friends?

Stria almost deleted the message. But then she saw that the number it was from had been the same number as last night.

Keefe Sencen. The real Keefe Sencen? she thought. Can't be. But she was, after all, the person who had written a seventy-five-page anti Keefe rant essay. She could easily convince an anonymous prankster into hating Keefe right along with her. Even if they had friends who were terrifyingly good at manipulating technology.

Let's play at this game, she decided, and typed: Sure. If you're actually Keefe Sencen, meet me at 12:30pm today, my time zone, at the main entrance of this mall. She dropped a link to a mall reasonably far from her house (which had, by all accounts, a reasonably efficient security team), and then called her good friend Katie to bring some backup with her. She didn't want to take chances with a fun joke turning into a terrible kidnap plot.

'You know it could be the real Keefe, right?' Katie pointed out to her. 'It's not completely impossible.'

Stria told her that it was most certainly not possible enough, and proceeded to pack her bags with necessary weapons (things to throw and a nice stout stick) before setting off.

She arrived at the mall at 12:20pm. Katie arrived at 12:30pm. 'Keefe' arrived, fashionably late, at 12:45pm. Not by car, but by what appeared to be light-leaping.

And it also appeared that the person was Keefe, mussed hair and smirk and all. Or at least this was someone in an incredibly convincing Keefe Sencen cosplay.

'Ohhh,' gasped Katie. 'It IS him! Are you Keefe Sencen? Oh, I can't believe it's you, and I love you so much! I want to examine you under a little microscope! Have I ever told you that I wanted to study you?'

He blinked. 'You're not the hater?'

Katie pointed to Stria, who was sitting on the steps of the mall in full view of the public, staring into the middle distance and trying to wrap her head around the fact that based on what she had just seen, both the Lost Cities and Keefe Sencen were real.

She was going to track Shannon Messenger down and have some strong words with her.

But questioning human existence could come later. For now, she simply stood up and looked Keefe straight in his hex-code-ice-blue eyes.

'It's me,' Stria said. 'I'm the hater.'

Then she pulled out a photocopied and spiral-bound version of her seventy-five-page rant on why she hated Keefe, and slapped it into Keefe's chest. It made an incredibly satisfying thunk. 'If you want to know why I hate you, then read this, and never talk to me again. Or if you do, you'd better have read this entire document.' And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Katie spent an extra five minutes getting Keefe's number, so as to have better access to him and his fascinating 'himselfness', and then followed Stria home.

*

Pt.2 on request; you are welcome to take stabs at my identity but kindly don't take stabs at me because I am small, frail, and weak <3

context here

wahoo!!!! i converted someone. everybody clap and cheer.

i think if i continued to hate keefe, it would not set him on a path of self-reflection, because he wouldn't care enough about my opinion to try to change his ways. heck, he cares about sophie, and he's not even trying to really change for her. he just says whatever he needs to say to appease her, then carries on. so what's going to motivate him to change himself for me, someone who doesn't even like him in the slightest? i would say he's generally indifferent to being hated, unless the person hating him is sophie. think about tam. he doesn't make any effort to try to make tam like him, though he generally knows tam doesn't really like him that much. so there's that.

i don't think keefe does any of that to make people like him . . . it's more of a cover for what's going on at home. everyone falls into the sense of "keefe is this cool, popular kid", and that's all they see of him, so why would they bother trying to think about what his home life must be like? i genuinely don't think keefe cares about being liked. he cares about attention, which is not the same thing. but i doubt he cares whether people like him or not. i think keefe would maybe, at the most, try to try to talk to me to figure out what my problem is with him. it might intrigue him that far. but once he realizes how far my hatred of him goes, i doubt he'd want to interact with me much anymore. and the feeling would certainly be mutual.

alright notes on your fic:

"hate your lover, love your hater, and be studied by her friend" first part is me i guess, second part is keefe i think, and third part is katie????

"[ . . . ] posted some fascinating thoughts about Aldella on her Tumblr blog, and then proceeded to go to sleep." ooooh, you think my thoughts about aldella are fascinating? thank you so much, anon. very much appreciated.

"Hey!! This is Keefe 'Lord Hunky-hair' [last name redacted for annoying-daddy-dearest reasons]. I saw that you blocked my human number yesterday, which was a little mean of you, so I had a Technopath friend of mine unblock it on your phone. It was brought to my attention that you put a lot of effort into hating my guts. Could we maybe fix that up and become friends?" and then stria died. the end. just kidding.

wondering how the fuck keefe knows i hate him. all these fics just have him like. somehow mysterious know that i hate him. did the power of my hatred magically implant that information into his head?

"She could easily convince an anonymous prankster into hating Keefe right along with her." terrifying accurate representation of my thought process. good job, anon.

"[ . . . ] then called her good friend Katie to bring some backup with her. She didn't want to take chances with a fun joke turning into a terrible kidnap plot." i love how i'm convinced that one extra teenage girl will stop a kidnapping plot if it happens. this is hysterical.

"'You know it could be the real Keefe, right?' Katie pointed out to her. 'It's not completely impossible.' Stria told her that it was most certainly not possible enough, and proceeded to pack her bags with necessary weapons (things to throw and a nice stout stick) before setting off." ah, katie. unfortunately, it is completely impossib- *gets shot* also me packing weapons . . . goodbye.

"Or at least this was someone in an incredibly convincing Keefe Sencen cosplay." not the keefe cosplay . . .

"'Ohhh,' gasped Katie. 'It IS him! Are you Keefe Sencen? Oh, I can't believe it's you, and I love you so much! I want to examine you under a little microscope! Have I ever told you that I wanted to study you?'" what do you mean. this is literally such an accurate katie. anon, you've crawled inside her head (/j katie don't kill me).

"He blinked. 'You're not the hater?'" I'M DEAD IN A DITCH.

"Katie pointed to Stria, who was sitting on the steps of the mall in full view of the public, staring into the middle distance and trying to wrap her head around the fact that based on what she had just seen, both the Lost Cities and Keefe Sencen were real." and then she shrugged and started tearing him (verbally) to shreds. keefe then fainted. stria had to then bury him in a ditch while katie verbally dissecting him. placing a good amount of dirt on him in case he woke up, she made katie swear not to come back and dig him up. katie, predictably, did not listen.

"She was going to track Shannon Messenger down and have some strong words with her." fun fact: i've never met shannon.

"For now, she simply stood up and looked Keefe straight in his hex-code-ice-blue eyes." NOT THE HEX CODE ICE BLUE EYES.

"Then she pulled out a photocopied and spiral-bound version of her seventy-five-page rant on why she hated Keefe, and slapped it into Keefe's chest. It made an incredibly satisfying thunk. 'If you want to know why I hate you, then read this, and never talk to me again. Or if you do, you'd better have read this entire document.' And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed off." *sniffs* anon has me down so well . . . this is what i say to people who wanna pick a fight with me over my keefe opinions. also what did i tell you all about the trope of me having a fucking. physical copy of my rant. which i apparently carry around and can afford to just toss at keefe.

"Katie spent an extra five minutes getting Keefe's number, so as to have better access to him and his fascinating 'himselfness', and then followed Stria home." you have katie locked down. to a science, maybe even.

i'm roughly 92% sure you're @worldsunlikemyown but if you're not this is going to be so embarrassing. part two would be interesting . . .

@myfairkatiecat come look at this anon's interpretation of you

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Writeblr Questionnaire

Thanks @illarian-rambling here, @paeliae-occasionally here, @willtheweaver here, @honeybewrites here, @urnumber1star here,

And @leahnardo-da-veggie here!

About You:

When did you start writing?

Genuinely I'm not sure, but I do have physical evidence that it's been a while. The first story I wrote was called "In the Dark." I was at the age where I drew several pictures with one color of marker with stick figures and my mom wrote the words for me. I'd say preschool-aged. I think I was three.

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

I am a person with a huge bias toward fantasy in the things I write and consume. However, I'm not picky with genres, it just happens to be a pattern. I really do love plenty of realistic fiction books. It just so happens that I have exactly one realistic fiction story in my WIP ideas. One. And even then, it needed a gimmick to be interesting for me to write. I have no interest in writing realistic fiction other than that. But I really do love plenty of realistic fiction books!

I want to write a mystery one day, but it'll have to be a fantasy mystery. I do love plenty of realistic fiction mystery books and shows and stuff. I could never write historical fiction, although that isn't a frequented genre to begin with.

Theme-wise, I couldn't say. I don't really care.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

Nope. I think people will make their own comparisons, but there's no one in particular I am trying to emulate. I'm just me.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.)

Sometimes I just write on the couch or at a random place at school, but I've been going to my desk a lot more. It's just in my room, I'm on a swivel chair, and my laptop is on top of it. Nothing special.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Read my old writing or my notes! I see stuff I forgot about or I get ideas from the details. Occasionally I'll check out a video or something if I'm truly stuck.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Uh, yes. Why do you think I set the "real world" in a middle-class intermediate school in the greater Houston area on a six-lane FM road with a Sonic, Walgreens, and apartment complex nearby? It's a lot easier to describe things that way. Everywhere else I have to make up a floor plan for interiors and use Google Maps for the surrounding scenery.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

A lot of queer and neurodivergent people. No, that does not surprise me. It me. It accident.

Friends-to-lovers is my most common romantic relationship, but there's also a lot of platonic and queerplatonic relationships.

Interpersonal relationships in general are huge themes of mine and appear in almost everything I write.

Since I write YA, there's a lot of coming of age.

None surprise me.

Your Characters:

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

Oof that's hard. For TSP... I love talking about Carmen. She's such an asshole, but she's super interesting. I want to put her under a microscope and study her. She's a character I'm constantly thinking about. I like seeing why she does the things she does. She's developed into a character I originally didn't think much about, and now I can't stop! She's also funny. She doesn't mean to be, but she's so high-strung and angry that she is fun to write for.

For SOTL, it's Tierney. I have one chapter with him, but that doesn't matter. He's amazing and I love talking about him. He's a mess. He's a nerd. He's awkward. I love him.

Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life?

Well, the characters closest to my age are Liam and George, and I think I'd be friends with them! Liam may occasionally get on my nerves in the debate side of him, but I think I'd get used to it, especially because his part of the grilled cheese debate is based on someone I actually know and am friends with.

I'm not sure about being friends with the kids, but I do hang out with plenty due to being an educator, and I remember how I was at that age. Out of everyone, Robbie and Akash feel like they'd perfectly fit into my friend group, which may be why I love writing them so much. Individually I think Gwen is the one I'd be most likely to get along with.

I haven't written enough of SOTL, but I'd get along with Jill. Also Ritchie and their group of friends.

Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Carmen, I'm so sorry, I would not like you. Gabriel also can get rude and boring. Noelle constantly mentioning her mom would get on my nerves, if I'm being honest. I feel like I could only take Parker in small doses, even if I really like Wade.

I'm not far enough in SOTL to make a decision except for the purposefully antagonistic characters.

Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters.

Well, TSP it really depends. Here are all the characters I think are worth mentioning for the entire series.

Originally based on someone I knew before developing a completely different personality: Lexi, Maddie, Ash, Gwen, Noelle, Rose, Kelsey, Carla, George, Hye-Jin, Atsila

They started out as someone completely different in previous drafts and then in the process of developing them I got attached: Jedi, Carmen

I created them for Draft Four as a love interests and then I got attached: Robbie, Akash

I created them in Draft Four to fill up the background: Liam, Ewan, Jazlyn, Wade, Parker, Tyler, Niri, Gabriel, Sam

I needed a name for a prominent figure and then I kept using it and they became important: Raissa

I needed characters for the AU didn't I?: Alex, Issa, CJ, Wendy

Background characters I had no intention of making important: Teo, Xitlali, Anathi

For SOTL, it's simple. Get a character from a fairy tale, nursery rhyme, fable, legend, other public domain work, etc and make them my own!

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Most of them are queer and neurodivergent. Most are in the 11-25 range given the demographic I write in.

How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.)

I want TSP and SOTL to both be in hand-drawn animation, so I imagine them like that. Western animation with anime inspiration like ATLA, Teen Titans, etc is what I typically imagine it in.

Your Writing:

What’s your reason for writing?

I love it!! And also I'd go insane. It's also why I write reviews and analyses of stuff. I've stayed up until 2 am before thinking thoughts on TV shows and I legit can't sleep until I've written an essay.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I've gotten "oh I like this little detail" or "wow good dialogue" or "realistic friendship!!" And that always makes me happy.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.)

I just want people to like my characters, is that too much to ask?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I really like character building and details around their lives. I think I'm good at writing consistent characters because I've put so much work behind them.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Dialogue! So many people comment on the realism of my dialogue, and I really like that!

How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.)

If it's at 1 am I think it's awful. When I read my old writing I cringe. Sometimes if I'm in a bad mood my self esteem plummets. But overall, when I look back, I see how far I've come. When I make a revision, even a small one, I smile because I know my writing is getting better. I just get excited about improvement!

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Yes because it helps me sleep. Were you not paying attention lol

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

No. I write for ME.

Tagging @mk-writes-stuff @elsie-writes @eccaiia @mysticstarlightduck @chauceryfairytales

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

SOTL intro

SOTL tag list (ask to be +/-): @illarian-rambling @katwritesshit @wyked-ao3

Under the cut are the blank questions put together for easy copy/paste

About You: When did you start writing? Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write? Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared? Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)? (Room, coffee shop, desk, etc.) What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse? Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about? Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all? Your Characters: Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.) Which of your characters do you think you’d be friends with in real life? Which of your characters would you dislike the most if you met them? Tell me about the process of coming up with of one, all, or any of your characters. Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters? How do you picture them? (As real people you imagined, as models/actors who exist in real life, as imaginary artwork, as artwork you made or commissioned, anime style, etc.) Your Writing: What’s your reason for writing? Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers? How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work? (For example: as a literary genius, or as a writer who “gets” the human condition; as a talented worldbuilder, as a role model, etc.) What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer? What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others? How do you feel about your own writing? (Answer in whatever way you interpret this question.) If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write? When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? If it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

[kooki914]

What are some ideas you have for how CH3 is gonna play out?

I'm really torn on how to answer this ask, because there's a microscopically thin line between "what I want" and "what I expect", and I've already wholly disappointed myself with my expectations for chapter 2 and I really want to avoid repeating that mistake. To put into perspective, I had literally 0 concrete expectations for chapter 2, and I was invigorated by the trailer like nothing else, and I STILL came out disappointed because the direction of the story was, on some guttural level, not what I had thought it'd be. I never verbalised those ideas, but they were there, and they ended up making me inconsolably hate chapter 2 for a very, VERY long time. And I am still salty. And I'm trying so, SO hard to keep my slate blank for future chapters to avoid those same emotional crashes.

My most honest expectations for chapter 3 are: a fun adventure, some bonding between the kids, and a few less loose threads. That's it.

If I'm being optimistic, I'd also say I expect some deeper exploration/commentary on Toriel's character, through the lens of someone who she literally raised their entire life. I WANT to know more about Toriel and Kris' family dynamic, past what we've seen in the first two chapters, and I want there to be some kind of acknowledgement that her actions, while well-meaning and caring towards Kris, still had negative side effects, especially on the enabling side of things. But, again, I'm phrasing that as optimistic, because if I say that I FULLY expect that and it doesn't happen, I'm going to implode all over again.

The things I WANT to happen in chapter 3 are a whole different ballpark, and like with every other post asking me about full chapter commentary I have to shoutout my Kingdomrune AU where it's literally everything I personally want out of Deltarune. (I know the blog is empty I'll expand on it soon.) The thing is, I really, REALLY want Asgore to be part of chapter 3's dark world, not just as a foil to Toriel but also as a missing piece to the general commentary I want the chapter to make about the Dreemurr household. His absence being both necessary, felt, and also devastating. His clinginess being a detriment to everyone's emotional energy, but that attitude of sticking his nose where it doesn't belong being what Kris NEEDS as a depressed kid with nearly 0 motivation for anything. Where Toriel is "live and let live", Asgore is "we can work on it together", and that's both what makes them a good team, but also incompatible in marriage. It's two opposing approaches to raising kids that come in handy in different contexts, while neither gets to fully shine because of the absence of the other - kind of like how the light world is dull without darkness, and the dark world is pointless without light. Like, there's so much to unpack there!!!! There's so much you can do with, not just Asgore in the dark world, but Kris' role as a leader being TESTED by their parents and their failed marriege AND ALSO possibly by Ralsei himself?

Kris opening a fountain as an attempted act of heroism, failing to garner any positive effects from that endeavour and ALSO hurting one of their most loyal friends in the process?? This chapter has the potential to be Kris' "darkest hour", a moment when they lose all connection and all will to go on, because they end up isolated from everyone. Their parents are physically present but emotionally absent (as always), Ralsei who once believed in them finds out about some Cruicial Choice Kris made and LEAVES them because of it (abandonment issues activated), and even if it's brief it still makes the world feel like it's ending for Kris because it reminds them so much of ever other time they've blamed themselves for people leaving (possibly tying into the December mystery?) How do they deal with this? DO they deal with this? Do they take after their parents and sweep it under the rug for the greater good, OR do they let themselves grieve and let go in order to push forward with vigor in their own heart not fueled by the relationships they've had and lost? (Ahem, thief of breath arc, ahem)

And, god, Susie as a foil to the entire situation, not just in her lack of investment the way Ralsei is invested, or even in the way KRIS is invested, but through her not really knowing the Dreemurr household situation AT ALL and metaphorically holding Kris' hand through a sort of confused comradery. Like "God Kris your family's really weird, but at least YOU came out the least deranged." Their friendship being strengthened because Susie chooses to protect them from themselves even in their darkest hour. Even when they essentially planned to hold her hostage in their house until they worked through their issues, Susie's able to see it as the cry for help it is because SHE would've done the same thing in their shoes. They get each other like no-one else (and hopefully their prior relationship of bully and bullied is addressed for the dual self-destruction cycle it was for both of them).

Basically, I want a sitcom episode gone horribly, terribly wrong. Just EVERYTHING up in flames. And nothing is fixed by the end, but a path to healing is clear.

What I expect is the story being something I can't predict and focusing on things I might not care about NEARLY as much, but will grow to somewhat appreciate with time. Hopefully.

And in conclusion I believe Ralsei should go feral.

[salt-is-a-terrible-currency]

Baking's a science

For my darling @brightlycoloredteacups. A very happy, very belated, New Year to you! ❤️❤️❤️

Tony Stark x f!reader

Warnings: fluffy, emotional

Who would’ve thought Tony Stark would enjoy baking? Not you, at least not at first. Though once you thought about it, you suppose it made sense. It’s a science, after all, and if there’s one thing aside from you that Anthony Edward Stark cares for, it’s science. Still, what greets you as you arrive in the kitchen after having bought more butter to sate this newfound interest of his manages to shock you. There’s flour everywhere: on the white lace curtains, on the sturdy wooden table gifted to you by Clint - he’d made three of them when he was bored during house arrest - and even on the tip of your husband’s nose. The aforementioned husband is currently bent over the kitchen table, studying one of the cookies under a microscope that he must’ve brought up from the basement while his dark hair sticks out in every which direction.

“Anthony?” you wonder out loud. Though you say only his name, what you’re really asking is ‘what the hell happened here?’.

He remains bent over the microscope, laser focused, though he replies without hesitation:

“There was a mishap with the blender, I’ll have Dum-E clean it up once we’re done here.” That’s one of the benefits of living with a bona fide tech genius; there’s few chores he hasn’t found a way to outsource to one of his creations, leaving more time for the two of you to just be with each other. Just years ago, walking into the kitchen and finding this level of mess probably would’ve caused you a minor heart attack. Now, you take it in stride because you know it’ll be taken care of by someone other than you.

“There’s fresh coffee in the pot if you need it.” He sticks his thumb out behind him, indicating the pot on the counter. You absolutely need it, having spent twenty minutes in line at the grocery store while the girl working the cash register tried to figure out why it was malfunctioning. To top it all off, the lady in front of you then decided that the best way of handling her frustration was to yell at the poor girl. You’ve had your fair share of customers like that, before you got out. When it was your turn to pay, you told the cashier to keep the change and wished her a good day. You set the butter on the counter, knowing that It’ll need about half an hour to reach room temperature before you and Tony can move on to the next recipe in grandma’s book. The coffee’s still warm as you pour yourself a cup and take a seat to wait for him to be done with the microscope, and for the butter to soften. You’re about two thirds done with the cup when he stands up abruptly, setting his hands on his hips.

“If you let me tweak the recipe, we could optimize this whole-”

“It’s not about optimizing, Anthony,” you interrupt, “it’s about family traditions, remembering where we came from, spending time together.” Tony’s face scrunches together. You can tell he wants to retort, that he wants to break out his businessman persona - the one that he was raised to have since before he could talk. But, just as abruptly as he stood up, he deflates.

“You’re right. And I’m sorry. About this-” he gestures to the flour covered kitchen, “-and, well, about this.” He gestures to himself. Indicating more than just the flour dusting the tip of his nose. You shake your head, stepping forward and putting your hands at either side of his face.

“That’s alright.” Running one hand along his hair, you chuckle a little to yourself as the attempt to smooth it out only leaves it looking even more disheveled. “I know you get excited when you get to be a nerd.”

“Pretty sure that’s why you married me,” he says casually. “You just can’t resist the nerd, no woman can.” The very first thing he nerded out about with you was the development of photography. It was preceded by you taking a picture, having set up the timer on your camera to capture a memory of the picnic he’d invited you to less than 48 hours after you first met each other. That photo opened a dam, and it was well past 1 in the morning before you made your way back to the car and drove home. You brush the flour off of his nose before planting a kiss there, feeling his cheeks heat in immediate response, then retreat and nod to the microscope where the - now cut in half - cookie is still resting on the slide.

“Peanut butter or cinnamon?”

“Peanut butter,” Tony replies. “I was curious as to whether the distribution of peanut crumbs was affected by the oven settings.” Of course he was. You nod along as if that’s a perfectly ordinary thing to think about while baking. 

“Leave the microscope for a bit,” you instruct and Tony’s features sharpen as he focuses on your words. “I’m going to read the next recipe to you, and I want you to follow the instructions. Whenever there’s an urge to tweak, you resist it.” You raise your hand and without, without so much as a femtosecond of hesitation, Tony answers the fist bump. His face cracks open with a boyish smile.

“You got it, boss.” He rounds the table, picking a clean bowl from the shelf, then whirls around to face you - body tense like he’s a sprinter waiting for the start gun to go off. You start off with measurements and Tony floats back and forth on the other side of the table as he brings out tablespoons and measuring cups, exacting out the correct amount of each ingredient in preparation. It seems as natural to him as the circuit boards he’s been building since he was four.

“Whisk together flour,” you instruct next, reading tita Javiera’s precise handwriting, “salt, lemon zest, ginger, baking powder, and baking soda. Set aside.” Tony goes to work immediately, adding each mentioned ingredient to the bowl. Is this what it was like for tita Javiera? you wonder. Her and tito Theo side by side in the kitchen, flour dusted on their clothes and the room filled with laughter and warmth as they moved around and with each other to test the recipes she’d gotten from magazines, friends, older relatives. Did Theo’s hair stick up just like Tony’s is doing right now? Your heart clenches in an unexpected way. Not unpleasant, but overwhelming.

“Now what?” Tony asks, his back turned to you as he washes a measuring cup. You swallow thickly. He turns to look at you, a smart comment written on his face but it dies out as soon as he sees you.

“Honey?” he asks, concerned. “What’s wrong?”. You wipe away the stray tear before it can make a run for it down your check,

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just happy,” you hiccup and wipe away another tear, “real happy that I get to do this with you.” He joins you, but just as you think he’s about to bring you in for a hug he instead pushes the bowl further away.

“Don’t cry over the bowl,” he chides, “the salt will throw off the balance in grandma Javiera’s recipe.” You swat at his arm but he dodges it, pulling you into the embrace you were waiting for as he laughs.

“Asshole,” you murmur into his neck, smelling strongly of nutmeg. He must’ve gotten some on his fingers earlier, then scratched absentmindedly at the collar of his shirt as he is wont to do.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “but I’m your asshole.”

[thetavolution]

OC SMASH OR PASS

Tagged by: I was tagged once and then ran amuck

Tagging: Any of you who want to do it!

Rules: Include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. The “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idk).

Viktor

QUICK FACTS

Height: 5’11"

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Pansexual

PROS

He's protective. He takes care of people, even if he's just met them. He protects the weak. He's an incredible ally on the battlefield.

He'd be open to polyamory, but he'd be much more into kitchen table polyamory.

He loves getting tied up and will tie up his partner if they enjoy it.

Biting is on the table.

Viktor is incredibly loving. So much of his pain is tied to how much he loves people, especially those closest to him. He puts his whole heart into every relationship, romantic or platonic.

He's good at relationship maintenance. Unless someone really fucked him over, he does everything to keep in touch and show people he cares.

He's generous with everything he owns and with his time. Even if he has things to do, he'll stop to help you. (I.E. Stopping to help every Tom, Dick, and Harry while trying to get this tadpole out.)

He's got cake.

CONS

He's a brooding cowboy of a paladin. If you're into that, great! If not, uh oh.

Vengeance is his thing. This can be alienating to people who are more about forgiveness. He goes on revenge missions as an oath of vengeance paladin.

He doesn't have a place to call home. He's never settled down in one spot.

While he isn't an addict, he does turn to drugs and alcohol to numb his feelings more than he should.

He wouldn't get along with people who are evil or hurt the innocent. He can navigate people who are more morally gray though.

He's lost a lot of people and he has a fear of losing anyone else. It can negatively impact how he moves forward in relationships. He's also overprotective because of it.

A lot of his actions are dictated by his survivor's guilt. He doesn't prioritize his own safety because he thinks he should have died years ago.

He really needs a therapist, but who on Toril doesn't? (Do I need to make a therapist character? Does anybody want that?)

DETAILS

The man runs on coffee and little else most days. The easiest way to get him to actually eat something is to make his favorite foods: Buffaloaf with Honeyed Corn, Roasted Cod with Mashed Potatoes, and Faerie Cake.

He loves falconry and wood carving.

Viktor has a favorite falcon that he cares for that he named Mike. He's never explained why he named her Mike.

His original party was murdered by trolls, including his former lover. It's where his survivor's guilt comes from.

He was inspired by westerns like Johnny Guitar, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, and The Wild Bunch.

When it comes to drinking, he prefers dark beers or red wines.

His drug usage isn't overly wild. He mostly sticks to micro-dosing on mushrooms if he's not drinking.

He doesn't talk a lot, but he listens.

[navy-leader]

Ok. Now onto the earlier stick oc I designed:

Apocalypse Maiden aka Poppy May

Weapons:

None. If she ever got isekaid to the RHG Cier world, the closest to consider her weapon is the "magic" pencil.

Scarf and cape that complement each other for constant flight. Cape can also shapeshift into two, useful shapes. Cape shapechanging is based from Gris, a game that Poppy would visit to love the visuals and music. Scarf is from Journey Thatgamecompany. Cape is from Sky Children of the light.

Charm on belt allows for shielding, but for at least three, consecutive hits from armored handed punches enough to break it temporarily. Even with the shield, though, a hit can briefly stun her if caught unaware. This is based from Laya's Horizon, one of the games she enters to race with Barry.

Powers:

Screams that force its targets into a state of decay, it's scale is large and direct.

Gifted with the power of life from her sister. But rather than using the gift for healing, she uses song to breath a spark into the drawings, mostly animals, whenever she needs muscle.

Strengths:

Better in long and maybe mid range combat.

Her powers gradually grow and strengthen against the her sister's seal, making her a force better avoided than face for combat.

Might be able to create a "shadow" form that's giant.

Shape changing cape allows her to adapt to different environments, such as swimming in water. Makes for great body slams.

Good drawer.

Fast reflexes and maneuverability, especially while in the gaming worlds where she needs to hide and dodge antagonistic forces.

Maximum length of powerful scream is 20 feet long. Fastest to kill and turn an opponent to

Weaknesses:

She has no control over her powers activating at varying times. They'd often act on their own based on her emotions. Doesn't help that she doesn't know all of nor the full potential to her powers by the team her creator forcefully sealed her. But her unsealed power level would basically be similar to orange, including the telepathy.

Because her powers are the opposite of Orange, unless the drawings are objects or simple body parts like a hand, the drawings end up "stillbirth." So, she's got to sing quickly. But the larger the drawing in mass, the longer and stronger the song needs to make them fully awake.

She never learned to fight, so she's practically defenseless without her powers.

Scarf is vulnerable to serious ice to the point of losing magic. More fragile to the point of tearing like a regular scarf. Being submerged in water also drains its juice slowly.

Also, if she overuses her scarf and cape, she'll need to touch ground or fire to recharge them.

Giant "Shadow" form renders her unconscious after one use like for a scream.

Scream is one direction only, in both her sealed and unsealed state.

Personality:

Self depreciating/self loathing

artistic

Curious

Sensitive

Character arc is similar to Teen Titan's Terra.

NOTE: Before Barrior Maiden, I considered putting Apocalypse Maiden in Cier as an inbetween arc to her life in her creator's desktop, as well as apprenticeship under Victim in Stick City. However, because of her lack in combat experience and likelihood to avoid fights, I created Barrier Maiden as her muscle. But Barrier Maiden already proved to hold on her own, so I split them.

Love these girlies,,, theyd make such a banger story and id love to inspect them like insects under a microscope.

[clay-core]

Never ever going to get over the fact that both Arizaphale and Crowley love each other to the fault of the relationship (at least at the end of S2 neil please im begging)

More below the cut bc this is so long, I am Azriaphale's number one defender because I have been in such the same position.

Aziraphale sees the fact that heaven is there to protect them, that heaven has done nothing but protect him and by extension Crowley. The bookshop is a heavenly outpost that he got to keep for some reason (if you are wanting context there is a scene in the script book that was cut from s1), they left him and Crowley alone after the events of s1 and the only reason that they are bothering him now is that Gabriel is in his bookshop, heavenly influence only comes and bother him and Crowley when there is evidence that there are high jinks afoot. They are not outwardly malicious to Azriaphale at least from his perspective, they have very questionable morals but they are supposed to BE good that is what heaven is, it is on the side of Good. Azriphale even says that same line in the confession gone wrong scene.

At least from what we have seen Crowley doesn't tell Aziraphale anything about the bad things that are happening. He avoids saying what he really is meaning to. (ie: "You can't leave this bookshop [me]"

At the body switch at the end of S1 Aziraphale knows that Crowley is safe because they shifted back and he was the one in the holy water, He made sure of that but on the flipside, at least from the information that we have, and presuming that they don't talk about anything after the fact (they don't), Aziraphale has no idea of the things said to 'him' when Crowley was wearing his face.

Aziraphale knows very few things, Heaven is supposed to be Good, they are meant to be good because that is why God made them, Crowley is a good person deep down and only was curious and didn't lie about anything (something that He did do to the hosts of heaven about Job's children), and no matter what Crowley will always stick with him, despite their arguments.

Through s2 each one of these ideas that Aziraphale has, is placed under a microscope and scrutinized.

Heaven is supposed to be Good. That is why God made them. - Whoopies not so much, they are murdering children with their lack of action against hell. God created them to be on her side not on the side of Good.

Crowley is a good person deep down and only asks questions. - So far we only have one canon interaction pre-fall for Crowley and Aziraphale, so saying that that was the only interaction that they had (I am going to be operating under that assumption and just working within the canon of the series), Azirphale knows that Crowley was happy making stars and creating, and then he was no longer in heaven, then meeting him when he was in Eden post heavenly/hellish battle and he was the original tempter of Eve. Once again all he did was also ask questions, never really filtering the inconsistency and distrust he has of God, which can be spun in a distrust of Good in Aziraphales mind. This is then examined when he 'kills' Jobs goats and children, never actually killing them only putting them in a space that is safe. He is against murdering Children and killing innocence so he has to be good Right? (all this to be said Aziraphale has no idea of what Crowley will do if any harm comes to him)

Crowley is the one thing that will be consistent even when facing down heaven. - Oops not anymore, Crowley leaves him. Leaves him and lets him go up to heaven. He doesn't chase after him like he had been prior to this, he just watches and leaves. Whatever 6000 years they had together has gone down the drain with a kiss and Crowley's never-ending stubbornness. I think that one of the reasons he looks back is to tell Crowley it's not too late, they can do this together, he just needs to come with him up to heaven. Then Crowley just stands there watching, standing next to his material items and the elevator doors shut and there is a sealing of fate.

Looking at the timeline we have of the story, Azirphale knows So little of the bad things that have been done, mostly because Crowley is shielding him from it. Speculation here but Azriphale most likely knows Nothing about Crowley's fall or why he fell in the first place, he knows nothing of the threats made to his life either directly or indirectly, and all he saw was Crowley saying no absolutely not, why would we, after everything we have been though want to go back. I don't!

Aziraphale sees this as such a lovely and wonderful opportunity to be back in the safety of Heaven (of Goodness) and have the person he loves the most, back with him. And Crowley tells him no, we are better than that, you are better than that, treats him like he is an idiot ("I think I understand a whole lot better than you do") and then kisses him.

The shock of the confirmation that everything that he has been feeling for the past almost 100 years has been shared this whole time, and the sinking feeling that nothing will ever be able to come of it because this is a goodbye. Thats why he says "I forgive you"

Because as much as nothing physically lasts forever, Azriaphale thought at least they together would and they don't they share a painful goodbye and part ways.

TLDR: let them talk please for the love of God. Like actually talk, like lock them in a room and no matter how much Crowley wants to explode or Azriaphale wants to discorporate, they don't get to, they are forced in that box and cannot get out until they fix it

[noodlyappendages03]

Making progress. I self-sabotage partly due to sexual shame. I go from being hypersexual to celibate for months, even years due to sexual trauma. Today I found out I oscillate between two extremes due to toxic shame. I try to reclaim myself, have sex without any emotional intimacy, get tossed aside once I feel emotional intimacy, then spiral into despair and do not want to be touched or desired by anyone because deep deep down I feel like a broken person who is not worthy of healthy intimacy or love. Of course, it's a false trauma-based narrative. Ding ding ding! And as for the vicious cycle, my sex drive has all but disappeared and touching myself ends in crying spells.

Both trauma healing (lots of lying in bed, journaling, and crying out both old and new wounds) and time is helping. It's been 3 weeks. DD has moved on like I was nothing. And I guess that's who he really is. Is he a hopeless romantic? Hell if I know. He never bought me flowers. Just alcohol. I've been sober for 15 days. Anyone who thinks I can't be a fun or even sexual person without alcohol doesn't know me and maybe doesn't even want to make the effort to know me. I know I can be treated right. If he wants to go find less on Tinder and drunkenly fuck a bunch of emotionally unavailable, wounded divorcees instead of dealing with his problems and working on himself - not just at the gym, but on the inside! - that's on him. I'm more than that. I'm LTR/wife material. By the time he wants to come back and entertain that idea, it'll be too late. I'm going to buy myself flowers this week. Because I am loved, even if it's only by myself. (Plus he can see them and it'd be funny to drive him a bit nuts and have him wondering who sent them. Because if he really wanted to keep me, he would have made the effort.) I'm trying not to be angry. I'm equally to blame. We couldn't communicate properly under a microscope at work and then drunk after work. I'm mostly angry at myself for letting him kiss me and not walking straight out of that bar once he did it and for putting me in that situation if it meant nothing to him.

I've got to work on myself anyway, regardless of whether we would have stayed together. I have a major certification exam I need to pass that will help my career, as well as other career goals afterward. I want to start painting again. I'm sticking with sobriety for now and going gluten free. I'm in therapy. I'm going to start walking more. I want to travel solo more. I want to go camping more. I want to spend more time with my daughter (who is securely attached and not nearly as fucked up as I was at her age - at least I'm a good mom!).

[villain-in-love]

cherry vanilla, matcha and blue moon for Jamil? (@canarycurse)

I'm finally done answering this... Sorry for the delay, I was fighting demons here.

cherry vanilla: how does your F/O show their affection for you?

Does allowing me to be stick around by his side without him making a sour face count as an affection?

Just kidding. But it was, at one point, the first sign of affection that he ever showed to Prefect.

I would say that Jamil is a person who prefers to speak with his actions. I mean, this guy got a silver tongue, but it seems to be mostly reserved for nefarious purposes. He’s not that good at expressing his true feelings that way– the words that come out are awkward and he will just end up embarrassed, telling Prefect to forget it. She won’t.

Part of his affection is making sure that she’s alive and well. Maybe helping with some chores or homework, or finding ways to keep Grim busy when this cat is in the mood to annoy her. Treating her constant injuries (things got better after she gained the ability to control magic, but she will always stay a physically inept loser), making lunch not just for himself and Kalim, but also for Prefect.

He also always makes sure to make time for her in his insanely packed schedule, and wouldn’t mind Prefect accompanying him even when he’s busy with something. Even if he keeps a neutral expression and even when he's doing something else at the same time, he listens, observes, and analyses.

I would even say overanalyses. Like many people, sometimes he can’t sleep at night because he’s thinking of his beloved, except he just overanalyses Prefect’s every word and every gesture trying to deduce more information about her. As I always said, scientific interest is a form of love and he wants to study her with a scalpel under a microscope. This feeling is mutual.

He also always tries to come up with a logical the solution if she has any problems. Part of it is just the way he usually thinks, of course, but this time he’s actually invested.

Another way he shows his affection is, surprisingly, by teasing her, making sarcastic remarks and lovingly poking fun of her, mostly her questionable life choices and opportunistic nature. Though that is, honestly, more about allowing her to see that playful and sassy side of him he hides from most of the people behind the mask of seriousness. And it’s only fair because Prefect is also known for showing her affection in a form of roasting him at any chance she gets.

Jamil is not a fan of public displays of affection, so most of the physical affection stays behind closed doors. And when it comes to gestures of physical affection he’s surprisingly gentle and almost innocent, mostly just wanting to stay close and keep Prefect by his side.

matcha: what kind of gifts does your F/O give you? Are they always buying you little presents or do they invest only in larger items for birthdays or holidays?

Useful gifts. The ones that may not seem anything special from an outside glance, but in reality Jamil puts a lot of thought in his gifts. Judging by the information provided in canon, Jamil’s gifts are usually small but high in quality, and are usually the things that fit the situation. Jamil’s quite observant so he knows what people might need at the moment.

So Prefect might receive a new teapot because she's constantly drinking tea and her old one just broke down. Or much needed alchemic reagent for one of her (most likely illegal) experiments. Or a new set of graphite pencils because she’s been drawing using the same old stub for a while now and Jamil just wants to put an end to this travesty.

Also, assuming that this takes place during and after my s/i’s second year in Twisted Wonderland (because Jamil and Prefect weren’t quite at that level of friendship to exchange gifts before the second year), magical artifacts are the best gifts when he really has no other ideas – it's something Prefect can both use as intended or study for her own curiosity… or drain of magic in case of emergency.

Gifts are not something Jamil buys often as something like this just doesn’t cross his mind often. So even in the relationship Jamil will mostly give Prefect something only for the occasions when it’s customary to give gifts – like birthdays or other holidays. (Not that she minds – Prefect sucks at choosing gifts and is always running out of money, and she would hate to stay in debt)

However, if we look into the possible future, if Jamil’s wish to travel the world alone comes true, then it would become a custom for him to buy her sweets from different countries as a gift for when he comes back.

blue moon: is your F/O very routine-oriented or do they like to go with the flow? How routine-oriented are you?

Jamil is less of routine-oriented and more plan-oriented, if that makes sense? Let’s put it that way, he has to babysit look after and serve Kalim – one of the most nonsensical and unpredictable people you will ever meet. Which means that it’s rare for Jamil to get stuck in a predictable routine, for better or for worse. And that taught him to be ready for literally anything that could possibly happen (he can predict at least 100 ways something can go wrong and he’s prepared for every single one of them, but then the 101th thing he somehow wasn’t able to predict happens and then he freaks out.) I think that if left alone in a calm environment Jamil might eventually fall into the routine but I’m honestly not sure if he will actually like it that much.

Prefect is… not a routine-oriented person. In fact, she hates routine so much that she throws herself into a new misadventure at any chance she gets even if it’s dangerous. She’d rather risk her life than get stuck doing the same thing every day. It’s good for her mental health. But not so good for Jamil’s, though.