#I thought of more and had to come back to edit things...

[clockwayswrites]

A Hill to Die On Ch 6, Part 1 (only?)

Masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3 I am headache. I am pain.

CW: deff implied sexual content on either end and Danny and Alvin both being disasters.

[Good times are had for Danny and Tim involving walls and mouths and Tim being happily used.]

-

Danny rolled over in bed, hand narrowly missing the attempted grab. He let out a low grumble into his pillow before he mumbled, “Come back to bed, Tim.”

“Not Tim.”

It was so clear when that sunk in by the way that Danny tensed for a moment before he very obviously forced himself to relax. He turned his head enough to get one eye open. “Not Caroline either.”

“Nope.”

“So, unless there’s another one, you’re Alvin.”

“And you’re a real genius. I can see why Tim likes you,” Alvin deadpanned. He put the trinket that he’d been looking at back down on Danny’s side table.

“Do we have to do this meeting at…” Danny grappled for his phone and squinted at the too bright screen. “Two forty-two in the morning?”

“Nope,” Alvin said and headed towards where he guessed the kitchen might be, “but I’m getting a drink. I can still taste your cock and I wasn’t even the one who sucked it.”

“You wish you had!” Danny called after him.

“Like fuck I do!” Alvin called back. He found the fridge and opened it to instant regret at the bright light.

Danny must had gotten up because there was mumbled cussing, shuffling around, and then the sound of a chair scraping across the linoleum floor.

“Pick something already, you’re letting the penguins out,” Danny complained through a yawn.

Alvin rolled his eyes and grabbed the orange juice. “Letting the penguins out’, fuck, where did they even find you?”

“At a club. And use a glass. Cabinet closest to the fridge,” Danny said.

Alvin considered not using a glass just to spite the order, but grabbed one in the end. “Thought we weren’t doing this at two forty-two in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, you finally show up after you’ve never even texted me back, so I feel kinda obligated to be conscious if you’re going to actually be around,” Danny said. He’d pulled on some boxers and was more slumped at the table then sitting at it.

Alvin slid Danny a glass of the juice before shoving the bottle back in the fridge. He leaned against the counter and took a long drink from his own glass. There were a lot of unasked questions in that, questions that Alvin didn’t know where to start with or even if he wanted to start at all. Coming out tonight hadn’t exactly been part of a plan.

“You don’t have to,” Alvin said eventually. “Not me that you’re dating. Or fucking.”

Danny tensed a little at that. Interesting.

“Nope,” Danny said with purposeful casualness, “and we don’t have to do either just because I’m with Tim and Caroline. But it’s your body too, so I’d at least like us to be amicable with each other.”

Alvin snorted at that. “Yeah, you’re just fine if there’s this whole other person thing rattling around in your boyfriend’s—girlfriend’s? In your lover’s body?”

“Well, yeah,” Danny said like it was really that fucking simple. “I knew you came as part of the package. You’re not a thing, Alvin, you’re a person just like Caroline or Tim.”

Alvin tossed the rest of the OJ back and set the glass down with a clank. “Naw, Tim’s the real boy. Caroline’s a pretty face. I’m just Pinocchio.”

“That’s not true,” Danny said. His passion was almost vehement. “Even if Tim was the first one around or the first one named, you and Caroline are still here and real and deserve to be treated like the real people you are.”

What was he supposed to say to that. Alvin just crossed his arms and looked away.

“I mean it, Alvin,” Danny said. The chair squeaked again as Danny got up and came around the table. “I’d like to get to know you when you’re around. And if we don’t end up together too, okay. If you want to be with someone else, okay. We’d just need to make sure the others feel safe and you protection and get tested and stuff, same as we have.”

“Ugh, you guys are bare backing it, aren’t you?” Alvin groaned dramatically.

Danny just shrugged out of the corner of Alvin’s eyesight. “We’re exclusive, unless you change that, and traded test results. Didn’t seem a reason not to do that. Besides,” Danny continued with a suspicious smugness. “Tim likes to gag on it.”

“Oh fuck you,” Alvin said. He grabbed the dish towel at his hip and tossed it at Danny, who caught it laughing.

“Dude, you’re the one standing naked in my kitchen drinking juice,” Danny pointed out.

Alvin huffed and crossed his arm again. “I’m not like Tim and Caroline.”

“I’ve figured that out pretty quickly. Genius, remember?” Danny teased.

Alvin narrowed his eyes. “I mean that I don’t like to ‘gag on it’. I don’t want to be fucked either.”

Danny just shrugged again. “That’s fine. I’m pretty sure Caroline is like, basically picking out a nice silicone cock or two to fuck me with.”

Alvin’s nose scrunched up. “She has a real one.”

“And if she isn’t comfortable using it, that’s fine.” Danny was aggravatingly easy going. “Besides, I think she has plans.”

“Your funeral.”

“Trust me,” Danny said with a toothy smile, “I’ll rest like the dead after.”

Alvin eyed the pointy teeth. “I can’t tell if I hate you a little or really want to bend you over the table and fuck you.”

“Hate sex is good too,” Danny said, smile suddenly all too innocent.

Seriously, who had Caroline found in that club? He was cheerful and annoying and hot and way too horny—Alvin lunged forward and captured Danny’s mouth with his own, as if he could devour that innocent little smile and all the sin that it promised.

When in Rome, or something.

[the-internets-girlfriend]

Bittersweet Memories: Before the Frosting Sets

George Clarke x Reader (Series)

There was something sweet - until it all fell apart. Years later, a viral video stirs up a past neither of them ever quite let go of. In the city where they both changed, something is quietly rising again.

warnings: soft angst, emotional miscommunication, heartbreak, swearing, slow-burn

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series | masterlist | next part

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Part One: Before the Frosting Sets (1200+ words)

I still remember the way George used to eat sprinkles straight from the jar.

We weren't one of those couples who posted anniversary posts or had a shared Spotify playlist - we kept it quiet, happy living in our blissful moments. It was slower. The kind of thing that grows between late night train rides and shared Tesco snacks, where love doesn't announce itself so much as it simply stays.

George was still figuring things out when we met. He filmed little skits on TikTok - low-effort but effortlessly funny. His face was stating to show up of people's for you pages. A couple thousands likes here and there - a "wait, aren't you that guy with the sound in the garage?" in a coffee shop once or twice.

He would brush it off with a laugh, but I could see it - the hope curling at the edges of his smile. Like maybe, just maybe, this thing he loved could actually become something.

And I wanted that for him. So badly.

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We met at a bus stop in Clapham, standing under one of those flickering streetlights. I was holding a cake box for my cousins 21st birthday. He asked if it was from that bakery around the corner. I told him no - I'd made it myself.

He looked impressed, "like, properly made it?"

I nodded my head, "from scratch, as well." I proudly showed off my cake, allowing for George to look through the clear top lid.

That had made him give me an amazed "well you must be a wizard then."

"Only during the school term."

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We didn't rush into anything. It started with the exchange of phone numbers, and casual messages - like stupid memes and late-night facetimes. Then it became weekends together. Then it became toothbrushes kept at each other's place. Then it just...was.

I would bake my cakes for friends and family while he filmed. When his laptop battery dies, he would crash on my sofa. I would glance up from icing cupcakes and find him watching me - not in the intense way but it was soft...thoughtful. Like, he was learning so much about me in that very moment.

"People would love watching this," he said once, phone in hand. "You piping those little waves and rose things, or you explaining nerdy baking stuff - it's great content."

I laughed at the idea, "baking isn't content, it's a way for me to think - a calm space.

He didn't ague. Just nodded and went back to filming himself for a TikTok video.

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His follower count began to rise. Nothing wild - but just enough to start getting messages from small brands wanting free promo in exchange for a product. He made jokes about "when I hit 10k" but I saw it - the way he checked his notifications a little more often, the way his sketches got sharper, more edited, more curated.

I supported it. Of course I did. He was chasing something, and I knew what that felt like.

But somewhere along the way, our rhythms started to clash.

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He started getting invited to small creator meetups - nothing big, just a group of content creators going to a pub night together and doing group collabs. I usually stayed behind. Not because I wasn't invited - nut because I didn't know how to fit in there. I kept to my quiet kitchens and the sound of my kitchen aid humming, not ring lights and clickbait thumbnails.

"You should come next time," he said one night, grabbing his coat. "They'd love you - especially when you talk about cake stuff. And they've been dying to meet you."

I smiled faintly, "maybe."

He didn't push it.

And that was part of the problem - we stopped pushing. We both stopped asking and started assuming.

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One night, I brought up the bakery idea. Not a big place, just a small shop with pale pink tiles and a coffee machine. I'd been daydreaming it for years - but this time was different, I had actually meant it.

George was editing something on his laptop - he didn't even look up.

"I mean... that's a cute idea," he said, his focus still on the screen as he typed away. "But rent is brutal right now, yeah? You'd probably do better selling stuff online. Build a brand first. Like... be a bakery girl on TikTok or something." He said with a shrug.

It wasn't mean. He wasn't trying to crush anything. He just didn't see it the way I did.

And something about the word cute stuck like icing sugar in my throat.

It hurt.

I didn't say much after that. Just nodded and went back to folding cupcake boxes, humming a tune to myself to mask the sadness.

He didn't notice I stopped letting him taste-test new recipes. Or that I didn't ask him to film with me when I tried making a time-lapse of me baking to show my grandma.

We were still... fine. Still cuddling up in bed, still trading jokes, still doing all normal things.

But something was... cooling.

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The night we ended it - us. It wasn't dramatic. There was no raised voices. Just a quiet sense of something soft slipping through our fingers.

He was editing again - something about a collab with his new mates.

I was boxing up a batch of lemon curd cupcakes, too tired to pretend I wasn't hurting - hurting in my own home.

"You called my dream a 'cute idea'," I said finally, barely a whisper.

George blinked, looked up as if he hadn't heard right. "Wait-what?'

"My bakery. You said it was cute. Like a trend. A phase."

"I didn't mean it like that," he said quickly. "I was just being realistic."

"I know." I swallowed, "but that's the thing. You're chasing yours like it's already real...and you made mine sound like something I'd grow out of - like a child's dream."

There was a long pause. Then -

"I didn't mean to make you feel small."

"I know," I said again. "But you still did."

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We didn't say let's break up. It just happened.

He stayed the night. We held each other like people who weren't ready to let go yet, but already knew we had to.

He left the next morning with a quiet, "see you around," and the ghost of a kiss on my forehead.

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After that, life moved on.

I worked. I baked. I mourned. I stopped checking his page after a while. He kept growing - slowly, steadily. His face popped up on my feed sometimes, smiling over beers or filming chaotic videos with friends I never knew.

He looked happy.

I tried to be.

But sometimes, I'd catch myself icing a cake and wondering if he ever thought of me - of us.

Sometimes I'd see a jar of sprinkles and think about how he used to eat them, by the handful, from the jar.

And that was it.

Not a disaster. Not a betrayal.

Just a quiet goodbye between two people who wanted different things at the same time - and couldn't find the right way to say it out loud.

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hi all!

I hope you enjoyed the first part for my second series, and are excited to see what comes next!!

See you next time,

mwah x

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taglist x

@mothersversiononly @whisperturnedecho @lovingaphroditesworld @reidyourpalms @liz140569 @swizzlemynizzle @wherethezoes-at @clarkeyzzz @swiftlyjo

[psyfeye]

⋆｡°✩ crawling back to you; ryomen sukuna

★°。a love so beautifully toxic, it transcends centuries

do I wanna know 1 hour ver (this is what I listened to while writing highly recommend mhm)

★°。967 words, NOT proofread, (semi) SCRAP

★°。kinda angsty ig | toxic | suggestive (smut) | f!reader

★°。note(s): this was my first time writing actual smut so forgive me if it's bad I am a smut reader not writer 💔 saw an edit of the mom and dad from how to train your dragon to hozier's cover of do I wanna know and immediately thought what that song would be like if it was about a toxic relationship so here's a scrap this was written in about 2 hours so if there's any spelling/grammar errors pls forgive me !

sukuna's steps echoed through the corridor as he made his way to his bed chambers. he knew you'd be there, you always were. it was the same routine every time. you fight, someone storms off, and then a few days go by until one of you fold and come crawling back. it was a twisted game that had continued on for centuries at this point.

he swung the door open, eyes falling upon your figure perched on the edge of his bed.

"welcome back." his voice was rough, blunt, but deep down there was a hint of something else. he felt a warmth inside of him that he'd been ignoring since the day you waltzed into his life. a comfort in knowing you were safe, that you were home. but as always, he quickly brushed the feeling off before it could settle.

"enough is enough." you murmur, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. "we can't keep doing this, sukuna." you say, the words filling the room with even more tension.

he scoffs, stepping closer as he leans down, his face just inches from your own. "how pitiful." he laughs as he takes in the way you avoid his gaze. "so how do you plan to stop this then? hm? surely you have a solution prepared if you're willing to whine about it so confidently." he says tilting his head and raising his eyebrows mockingly.

"you don't have to be an asshole." you retort, eyes narrowing with a glare as you finally meet his gaze. his smirk gets wider when he recognizes the anger in your voice.

"must we have this conversation every time?" he says, crossing his arms over his chest. his shadow looming over your sitting figure. "you say we need to stop, I agree to disagree, and guess what happens next," he leans down, gripping your chin tightly. "you almost never leave, and the few times you do," he leans in closer, lips brushing against yours, "you always return."

he closes the gap between you, his grip on your chin loosening as his hand moves to cup your cheek. his touch rough, a collapsed thumb brushing over your cheekbone. his lips molded against yours, moving in perfect tandem, as that's what they were made for.

"if this isn't what you want, why do you return?" his voice is low, he dips down kissing and nipping at your neck as he helps you undress with ease. you knew deep down you should say no, let this vicious cycle end here.

but the way his hands moved down your body, practically tearing your clothing off. the way he guided your hand to the growing bulge in his pants before slipping them off with everything else. the way he looked at you as he slowly teased the head of his cock against your entrance, it made you forget why you ever wanted to leave him in the first place.

you hated that he was right, hated the way his touch still gave you butterflies after all this time, the very thought of it made you nauseous. yet in moments like this, the only thing you could think about was his large hands roaming your body. the way his lips feel against your collarbone, his breath warming your skin.

"you will never leave me." his deep voice rumbles into the crook of your neck as his arms wrap around your waist, his hips finding their pace as he finally bottoms out inside of you. "I will make sure of it," he captures your lips in another kiss, "I will find you, no matter where you try to hide. no matter who you try to beg to save you, it's no use." he rambles on as his hips speed up their pace, a shiver running down your spine.

your nails drag down his back, moans muffled against his shoulder. his words barely register in your mind, but you can tell by his tone that it's a promise. there's no where in this world Sukuna wouldn't go to find you, to bring you back to him, where you belong.

"we're destined for each other," he continued, his voice rough as his thrusts become sloppier, "even if I hate it." he gritted out, "even if you hate it."

he leans down, resting his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your face. "let go. submit to me, like you always do." his words no longer carried that familiar sharpness to them. instead they were replaced with a small sense of vulnerability that you'd never get used to hearing. almost like he was begging, pleading with you to just listen. but his strength still loomed over you, the glare in his eyes that reassured you what he'd do if you dared to even insinuate his weakness.

he groaned as he felt your walls flutter around his cock, angling his hips so he could hit that spot you love so much. he lets out a deep moan as your back arches, his head dropping back into the crook of your neck as his hips stuttered in their rhythm. his cock twitches inside of you, a moan of satisfaction leaves your lips as he fills you up.

"mine." he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his thrusts begin to slow. he lifts his head to lock his gaze with yours, his eyes narrow, possession filling them as he speaks, "you belong to me. do not forget that." his tone was sharp, leaving no room for second guessing

"what if I don't want to belong to you?" your voice comes out in a raspy whisper, your words shaky as you struggle to catch your breath. his gaze remains locked with yours, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"bold of you to assume you have a choice."

+ extra extra note for the baddies:

sorry I went missing, life is crazy and I'm in college so you can probably imagine. anyways I hope you enjoyed, my posts may be slow and inconsistent but I could never forget about you divas <3 this is a scrap from January (or whenever this hozier cover was trending I can't remember) so lmk if there's any crazy spelling mistakes or something also my first written post being smutty is crazy goodnight

[itdontmatter283472374]

What are we? Chapter 3

It was the night before her birthday, and Paige was about to pretend she was going to sleep early—mostly so she wouldn’t have to sit in the quiet of her thoughts—when her screen lit up with Azzi’s name.

She hesitated for a second—thumb hovering over Accept—before answering.

Azzi’s face appeared, dimly lit by the glow of her desk lamp. Her hair was longer now, or maybe just messier, falling in front of her face like it always did when she was distracted.

“Hey,” Paige said, adjusting her phone against a pillow.

“Hey,” Azzi replied. She sounded tired but not in a bad way—just worn in. Familiar.

There was a beat of silence.

“Happy almost birthday,” Azzi added, softer this time. “Are you gonna do anything tomorrow?”

Paige shrugged. “Nika is dragging me to Ted’s. She likes a guy who's gonna be there tomorrow, apparently.”

Azzi nodded. “Fun.”

“Hopefully.”

Another pause. Azzi shifted on her end, leaning back against a wall covered in new posters Paige didn’t recognize. Her room looked lived-in. Different.

Paige hated how that made her feel.

Azzi said, “I was thinking I could come visit. Just for the weekend.”

Paige’s heart did something annoying. “Seriously?”

Azzi nodded, eyes flicking to the side like she wasn’t sure how serious she was until just now. “Yeah. I mean… if that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Paige said quickly. “Of course it’s okay.”

Azzi smiled. Small. Tentative. “Cool.”

Another silence, but this one felt warmer. Familiar. Dangerous.

“You still like burrito bowls?” Azzi asked.

Paige laughed. “You think I’ve changed that much?”

Azzi tilted her head. “You never know. College changes people.”

The smile on Paige’s face flickered, something unspoken passing between them again. She looked away from the camera for a moment.

“Some things don’t change,” she said.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. I guess we’ll see.”

It was officially Paige’s birthday, and Azzi didn’t know how she was supposed to feel.

So much had happened since that night in May. They’d promised nothing would change, or at least pretended like it hadn’t—but of course, it had. Their friendship still existed, technically. But it felt quieter now, thinner around the edges. Not broken, just… edited. Cropped.

They still talked—memes, updates, half-hearted check-ins—but the real stuff slipped through the cracks. Paige hadn’t told Azzi about the night she got drunk for the first time, stumbling back to her dorm with glitter on her cheek and someone else’s jacket draped over her shoulders. And Azzi hadn’t told Paige about James—how it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, how she told herself it didn’t, even when it felt like it did.

Then there was the bigger stuff. Like how Paige had come out to her teammates. How it wasn’t just whispered anymore, or something she only acknowledged in the dark. Azzi had found out through someone’s Instagram story—a blurry shot from a party, loud music in the background, red cups and grinning faces. But what made her stomach twist was the way Paige had her arm draped casually over a girl’s shoulder, their bodies close, their smiles too comfortable to be just friends. The tag said something stupid like “sapphics only 💋💅”, but it was the image that stuck with her. Paige looked free. Unapologetic. Seen.

Azzi hadn’t double-tapped the photo. She hadn’t said anything at all.

It was real now, public in a way it hadn’t been when it was just them, tangled in sheets and silence.

They hadn’t fought. There was no dramatic falling out. Just a slow drift, like two satellites caught in different orbits.

She told herself it was just what best friends did. But even that label felt wobbly now, like it didn’t quite fit the way it used to.

And that scared her more than anything else.

Paige, meanwhile, was being bombarded.

The texts were already rolling in—group chats lighting up, a dozen notifications from people she barely knew tagging her in blurry photos and stories with 🎉 emojis. Nika had already yelled "Birthday bitch!" in their kitchen before 9 a.m. and promised tequila later, and Paige had smiled like that felt good.

But underneath it, something was missing. Or not missing, exactly—just quiet.

Azzi hadn’t texted again. Not after the FaceTime. Not since saying she was coming.

They still talked, technically. Still sent each other TikToks and inside jokes and the occasional “miss your face” when it got late enough to say things without really meaning them. But the real stuff—the stuff that used to buzz between them like a live wire—had started slipping away sometime over the summer.

It was like trying to hold water in her hands. No matter how tightly she cupped her fingers, it leaked out.

She hadn’t told Azzi about the first time she got drunk, about how the city lights had blurred into streaks and she’d kissed a girl she didn’t even know the last name of. How afterward, she’d cried in the stairwell, not from guilt or regret, but from this weird ache she couldn’t quite name.

She hadn’t told Azzi about coming out to her teammates, either. Aaliyah had asked casually at a party—“So you’re, like, gay-gay?”—and Paige had just nodded, like it wasn’t a big deal. And then it wasn’t. Word spread. No one cared. It was freeing, in a way. But also lonely. Because Azzi wasn’t part of that version of her. Not really.

And then there was the photo. The glitter, the arm around the girl’s shoulders, the tag, the smile. It was harmless. Fun. Paige hadn’t thought much of it—until she saw that Azzi had viewed the story.

But she never said anything.

And neither did Paige.

Maybe that was the worst part—not what they said, but what they didn’t. The way their friendship had morphed into something polite. Something safe. Like they were both afraid of stepping too close to the edge again, just in case the fall this time actually broke something.

Paige didn’t know about James. She didn’t ask. Didn’t press. But she could feel it—something in the tone of Azzi’s voice, the way she’d started talking around certain topics, the way her laughter felt more like a defense than a reaction.

They were still best friends. But only in the way people still call their childhood house home, even when someone else lives there now.

And yet, Azzi was coming.

She’d texted the night before, like it was just a casual visit, not something that made Paige’s heart twist itself into knots.

“Still cool if I come visit this weekend?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

Paige didn’t know what it meant—that Azzi was coming. That they were going to be in the same room again. That for the first time in months, they wouldn’t have a screen or a phone call or a hundred miles of distance between them.

But she knew how it felt.

Dangerous.

And a little bit like hope.

She had arrived.

Azzi pulled into the parking lot just outside Paige’s dorm complex, the hum of her car engine softening as she shifted into park. The campus stretched out in front of her—wide sidewalks winding between old brick buildings, students crossing the quad with coffee cups and headphones, the faint clang of someone shooting hoops nearby. It looked alive. Bigger than she remembered. And maybe, if things lined up, it could be hers next year.

She sat behind the wheel for a moment longer, taking it all in. The place Paige called home now. The place Azzi might soon belong to.

She was supposed to meet with Geno and CD later that afternoon—an unofficial but important check-in to talk about the decision she’d been circling with her parents all week. No commitment yet, not officially. But it was close. Close enough that her stomach flipped every time she thought about it too hard.

She hadn’t told Paige.

Not yet.

Part of her wanted it to be a surprise—a birthday gift that wasn’t wrapped or posted online. Just… her. Showing up. Fully present. Not as the girl who used to share a bed on weekends and text cryptic one-liners about feelings at midnight. But as someone who was maybe, finally, ready to be part of Paige’s world again. More than just a visitor.

She glanced at her phone, thumb hovering over the text that said “I’m here”, and paused. Her reflection stared back at her in the rearview mirror—slightly windblown, eyes wide with something that felt a lot like nerves.

This wasn’t just a visit.

It was a beginning.

Maybe.

She hit send.

And then she stepped out of the car.

“Wassup, big head,” Paige called out, pushing through the stairwell doors with the easy confidence of someone who knew exactly where she stood—in her space, in her body, in this moment.

She was wearing a loose UConn t-shirt, sleeves rolled up slightly, and a pair of navy athletic shorts that showed off the familiar strength in her legs. Her hair was pulled back messily, still damp from the post-lift shower, and a faint sheen of sweat clung to her skin like proof of how hard she’d just been working. Azzi felt her breath hitch—just for a second—because, damn. Paige looked good. Strong. Like herself. Like the version Azzi sometimes still dreamed about, even when she swore she was over it.

“Not much,” Azzi said, her voice almost too casual, squinting slightly in the sunlight as she looked Paige over. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, unsure where to put the weird mix of nerves and nostalgia twisting in her gut.

Paige crossed the short distance between them in a few easy strides, her sneakers quiet on the concrete. Before Azzi could say anything else, Paige pulled her into a hug.

It wasn’t tight, or long. Just enough to register. Warm arms around shoulders, the smell of laundry detergent and whatever body spray Paige always used—vanilla and something faintly citrus. It should’ve felt familiar. And in some ways, it did.

But Azzi stiffened, just slightly.

Not enough for Paige to notice, probably. But enough for Azzi to feel it in her own bones. The way her body flinched inward—not from Paige, but from herself. From the weight of what she hadn’t said yet. From the secrets lodged somewhere between her chest and her throat.

She hadn’t told Paige about James. Or about how she’d been thinking—seriously thinking—about committing to UConn. That she’d be walking into a meeting with Geno and CD in a few hours that could change everything. It had all seemed like part of the birthday surprise, part of the gift. But now, standing in Paige’s orbit again, it just felt like too much unspoken.

And the thing was… Paige didn’t know Azzi wasn’t the only one keeping things close to the chest.

Because Paige was carrying guilt too. The kind she didn’t name out loud, but that still haunted her in quiet hours—like the night she kissed someone new just to see if it would feel like Azzi. Like the day she came out on campus without so much as a warning text. Like the moment she saw Azzi had viewed that Instagram story and never said a word.

The hug ended.

Azzi stepped back with a faint smile, trying to fold her emotions into something more manageable. “You smell like sweat,” she said, teasing just enough to cover the tension.

Paige grinned, unfazed. “That’s how you know it’s real.”

Azzi nodded, biting the inside of her cheek. She was here now. The hug had happened. The weekend had officially begun.

But the real conversation?

That was still waiting.

And it wasn’t going to stay quiet for long.

“So, how’s senior year been so far?” Paige asked casually, her voice light but genuinely curious as she carried Azzi’s duffel bag on her shoulder. They stood at the back of Azzi’s car, the trunk now closed with a soft thud, the early afternoon sun still bright overhead. Azzi had just finished unloading her stuff, but the silence between them lingered for a moment before Paige broke it again. “Decided to commit to UConn yet?” she added with a playful smirk, but there was a confidence behind her words—as if she already knew the answer.

Azzi hesitated, a little caught off guard by the question. She felt her pulse quicken, the weight of what she was about to say hanging in the air. “Yeah, actually,” she said, but paused. The words felt heavier than she’d expected. “I was gonna tell you at dinner, but since you brought it up… I texted Geno last week that I’m gonna be up here and want to talk.”

The second the words left her mouth, Paige stopped dead in her tracks. Her jaw dropped, and she stared at Azzi like she had just announced she was moving to Mars.

“No way, bro, stop playing with me.” Paige’s tone was incredulous, her eyes wide, not fully processing what Azzi had said. She shifted her weight, clearly still trying to make sense of the statement.

Azzi squinted against the sun, lifting her hand to shield her eyes as she shrugged, the weight of the moment suddenly feeling very real. “No, I’m serious.”

Paige stood frozen for a second longer, then repeated herself with more disbelief. “Seriously?”

Azzi gave a small nod. “Seriously.” She could feel the weight of the decision pressing in on her chest, but there was also something in the air between them that made her heart race—something deeper than just the surface-level exchange.

Without warning, Paige dropped the duffel bag to the ground with a thud, her hands shooting out to grab Azzi, pulling her into a tight, unexpected bear hug. Azzi felt the sudden force of it, a mix of warmth and surprise, as Paige’s arms wrapped around her like she was holding on for dear life.

“Paige,” Azzi gasped, feeling slightly smothered in the embrace. She tried to laugh, but it came out strangled as she struggled to breathe, a mix of emotions swirling inside her.

The hug lasted a beat too long, and when Paige finally pulled back, Azzi could feel something damp on her neck. Her heart skipped a beat. “P, are you crying?” she asked, her voice softer now, a little more tentative. She could tell something was off, but didn’t know how to address it.

Paige wiped at her eyes quickly, as if to cover it up, but when she spoke, there was a smile fighting through the tears. “No, bro, I’m just happy.”

Azzi stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She felt the pull of something deeper between them, but she couldn’t figure out if it was just the joy of the moment or something more complicated. “P,” she said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Are you really that excited to spend three years here with me?” Her laugh was light, teasing, trying to defuse the sudden rush of emotions that had taken over.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin that stretched across her face. “Bro, stop trying to make fun of me.”She reached down to grab Azzi’s duffel bag, hoisting it back over her shoulder as if nothing had happened. She started walking toward the dorm stairs, her pace casual, though the smile on her face was wide and genuine.

Azzi stood there for a moment longer, watching Paige walk away, a bemused smile still playing on her lips. “You’re impossible,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head at the ground. Despite the way her heart was still beating fast, she followed Paige up the stairs, the weight of what was coming next settling between them like an unspoken promise.

P.S. Sorry for posting this so late been out of town, but I also will posting chapter four and maybe five tonight depending on how much time I have.

[iwoulddieforher]

Green Light | Alex Cabot × Casey Novak

chapter one, you can be directed here for the rest

warnings for extensive discussion of domestic abuse & mental health

not beta read or edited at all I'm sleep deprived and I'm in the middle of exam season. remember I live off of comments if you comment I love you

A photograph of a woman, dressed in athletic wear, and presumably her boyfriend next to her was slid across the counter. Immediately Alex couldn't focus on anything but her smile. She looked truly ecstatic, despite the hair tousled even in the way it was pulled back. Her skin was pale and as though if Alex could reach into the picture to touch it, it would be incredibly soft, smooth and warm under the pads of her fingertips. Her eyes sparkled in a way that almost was never properly caught by cameras- it made Alex wonder how enthralling they’d be if Alex was really looking at them.

It made her quite sad, seeing such a beautiful woman in a context like this. Alex felt her jaw tighten when she tapped her nails against the laminated paper gently, her focus shifting over to the man beside her. He was sunny-faced with kind eyes, the type she could recognize were round but in the photograph squinted by his large grin. He seemed tall, but he was leaning towards her gently either out of the necessity of the cameraman or simply because he wanted to be close to her. They looked happy.

“And he’s hurting her?” She asked softly. She wanted to slide the picture back across her desk, towards the fidgeting elderly woman. When Alex looked up, she noted the sweet, heart-shaped face, and Alex had no doubt the young man got his rounded hazel eyes from her. She was currently in a state of great anxiety, clutching at her purse as thought the object could bring some salvation. Alex didn't want to give the picture up. This volunteer work would never get any easier, she knew that already, despite only doing this sort of thing for a meager few weeks.

“I think so,” the woman confirmed in a quiet voice, as though worried someone would hear her, “You have to understand, my son, he’s very sick. I would never want to make excuses for him, but he’s- you know, schizophrenia.”

She swallowed and Alex watched her throat bob. Alex wondered if she felt guilty. Chronic schizophrenia, the type that onset in early adulthood as this case probably was, was genetic. Her genes had contributed to whatever affliction was currently tormenting the happy couple. It was not a good fate.

“I raised him to be a good man,” she broke out, “A family man, and I knew I did a good job when he’d always come home for the holidays, bring his girlfriends, spoil them. Ever since he was in highschool he'd ask for forwards in his allowance so he could buy flowers or whatever the girl he was seeing wanted. He’s that sort of boy, a good one.”

“This must be very hard for you,” Alex murmured, her gaze dropping down to the photograph again, tracing the contours of the faces with her gaze.

“He started coming over less,” she said quietly, “and at first I thought it was because of her- she’s a feisty young thing, ambitious, driven. I have to admit, at first I thought she wasn't- she wasn't soft, like how I had always pictured Charlie’s wife would be. But then I met her more and more, and I saw how her eyes softened whenever she looked at my son, and I knew she was the one for him the same way he had known for months.”

It wasn't uncommon for the women who came to Alex to burst into stress-filled storytelling, anxiously assuring themselves it hadn't always been like this, but this case was different for multiple factors, and it saddened Alex immensely. She tried to soften her eyes, nodding along to the story gently. The woman looked like she was about to cry.

“I still remember him coming over during the summer, and she was running around the yard with two of our dogs and my niece, and he was wearing my husband- his father’s- apron, with a spatula in hand, and he leaned over the back of my chair with a grin and lowered his voice to tell me he was going to marry her. Asked for my blessing. I wanted to hug both of them right there, but she didn't know yet, so I had to hide the big smile that I wanted to shine at her and wait until he proposed so I could congratulate them properly.”

Alex smiled sadly as the woman dipped her head, sliding her glasses up to her forehead so she could rub at her eyes and try to breathe evenly.

“My father had schizophrenia,” she said after a pause, “that was before we had the medications and things to help with it. It was … not … you understand, surely. He didn't understand what he was doing.”

“I understand,” Alex affirmed quietly, and when the woman placed a hand anxiously on the desk she reached across it to squeeze gently. “It must be scary, seeing your son ail from what you grew up with.”

“I wanted to think it was just in my head,” she said, her voice defeated and low. “I know he was prescribed medication, when he was diagnosed he told me about it. I comforted him. My father got better once they figured it out … how to help him. I was sure he would, too. They have all those drugs now, I thought surely …”

It was upsetting, seeing such a kind woman so miserable. The more Alex observed, the more she could see the details that spoke to the stress. Her fingertips burned white against the leather of her purse from the way she was still gripping it with the hand Alex wasn't encasing, her waterline shone like polished glass from tears she wouldn't let fall, and her bottom lip trembled as she spoke.

Alex didn't want to prompt her to speak, so when she trailed off now, she simply held her hand. It was dark outside, and it was far past the hours she typically spent at the volunteer office. Sometimes her ‘volunteer’ duties extended past the walls of the rather modest building, summoned by other women to escort someone or load something or similar. It wasn't unusual that she stayed past what was expected of her.

This woman had come at the near-end of her shift, so emotionally congested that Alex had insisted on getting them both tea from the small lounge the building sported, making small, idle chatter until she was ready to confide whatever she had come to explain. At first she had assumed incorrectly she wanted to report her own abuse, be it by a husband of long term or perhaps even elder abuse at the hands of a caretaker or family member. This was worse, more complicated, which further affirmed that Alex would not rush her.

She already knew there was very little she could do, if anything at all. She wasn't authorized to conduct a wellness check, and she knew better than to make this woman defensive by approaching her head on, or make the situation more complicated by explaining her reason for appearing, for knowing intimate details about something she had no way of knowing if not for someone's testimony.

But still, this woman had come to talk, to alleviate some concerns, and Alex would allow her to speak until she was finished. If anything, she could help her get this off her chest. Alex knew Olivia, or someone still regarding law and order as gospel, would immediately refer this woman to the police, but she had little confidence that would help at all. Getting this off her chest might be the only thing this woman could do, rather than drown quietly with the weight of what she assumed.

“He’s not taking his medication,” she said quietly, breaking Alex from her thoughts. “I could tell, the last time I saw him in person, a couple months ago. The eyes … his voice, the way he spoke. It was just like my father’s. And she was wearing too much makeup.”

“The side of her jaw,” she pointed to a small portion in the middle of one side, “was discolored, I could tell even under the concealer. She laughed it off when I tried to mention it, but then she looked uncomfortable, and I haven't seen them since. Only called.”

Alex didn't like prompting, but it was as though she was waiting for her to ask, so she tried to ask as gently as she could.

“And when you call them?”

“He didn't put the phone on the receiver properly when she came home,” she said, her voice cracking, and she sniffled. “He lost his job a little while ago, he asked his dad for some money because he didn't like that his fiance was bearing the weight of the rent. She got home, and I could hear them fighting, because he hadn't taken his medication. I heard her plead for him to take it, and I heard him say he didn't need it. He said it was poisoning him, hurting him. He yelled, asked her if she was trying to poison him. I heard … I heard her scream. When he … I heard the sounds, he was- he hit …”

She began to cry in earnest, tears tracking through the wrinkles of age as she fought to keep her head up, her gaze fixated at a point just below Alex’s eyes because she simply couldn't find it in her to meet them directly. Alex tried to breathe steadily, to radiate the sense of calm she knew all women who visited this office desperately needed. It was hard.

“I don't want her to end up like my mother did,” she whispered through broken sobs, “They're buried together, but until the end when he raised his hand she’d flinch. I don't want my daughter-in-law … and I can't stand that my son, my darling little boy, I … I’m a grown woman now, I should be able to help now, but I don't know what to do.”

Alex took a deep, clarifying breath, the cleared absolutely none of the heavy feeling resting snuggly in her lungs. She waited for the woman to wipe her tears, recompose herself. It hurt that she knew she had nothing to offer her.

“The reality is,” she said very quietly, “That there's very little you can do.”

She hiccuped another sob, closing her eyes and hiding her face in her hands as Alex continued in a voice as soft as she could possibly muster.

“Unless she’s willing to decide for herself that she needs protection, or unless he realizes he needs help, there's not much I can help with. I help women escape abusive households, but I can't force anyone to leave someone, even if they're hurting them. I’m truly, truly sorry. Mental health services can get him committed for a period of time, but …”

“That won't help,” the woman sobbed, “She’s stubborn, I’m sure she’s still convinced she can help him, she won't stand for him to be- she’s a lawyer, she’d…”

Alex looked back down at the photograph, taking another deep breath. A lawyer, then, huh. Alex couldn't say she felt as steadfast as cops did for their own, but the shared background didn't help the gnawing sympathy, the urge to do something.

Her recklessness in the pursuit of being a savior had put her behind this desk in the first place. Lying about a search warrant had earned her a half-year suspension from the district attorney’s office, a growl from her superiors that she ought to be careful unless she was willing to risk her licence entirely.

Donnelly had been very cross with her, stern. All her favors and all her connections meant absolutely nothing if a victim’s family charged her, and she had been so nauseous at the thought of that poor boy in the ICU, the one who had slipped through her own fingers, she hadn't even thought to defend herself. Donnelly had been right, in all her headless moves she had been fighting against the weight of failing him. She should've driven him home. Perhaps another few minutes, a hand lingering on his shoulder, would've saved- would've stopped him from trying to take his life. But she hadn't, and now he was hospitalized, and probably would be for the rest of his life.

Guilt gnawed at her and it threw her headfirst into this organization.

She had never felt very maternal until she had walked in to volunteer herself and felt small hands desperate for comfort at the tail of her coat, a tiny pitched voice mistaking her for its mother. The waiting room attendant had told her the child had been asked to wait outside while the mother made arrangements, as the mother didn't want her child to hear how they'd have to escape from a father the child loved dearly.

The mother had walked out to see the child being rocked gently in Alex’s arms as the blonde paced back and forth, bouncing the child who couldn't have been older than three gently, nervously. She wasn't very strong and the weight made her arms ache, especially as she had been doing it for a little while, but she did not dare put a sleeping child down. Something had told her not too.

The weight felt like someone she could help. A boy had slipped through her fingers, and she wouldn't let this baby out of her arms until she knew they were safe, back with their mother, where they belonged.

Alex had accompanied three other women, not including the victim herself, to her apartment days later. They grabbed essentials, anything they could, and packed it as neatly as possible purely so they could go back and grab more. The whole process took barely twenty minutes, and the mother wept throughout those twenty minutes, each sob sending another shard straight through Alex’s heart. They drove her to a shelter, and although there the other volunteers left, Alex tried her best to help unpack, to transform barren white floors into something that would vaguely resemble home. The child began to sob, asking for its dad at some point, and Alex rocked them gently while the mother tried to calm herself.

It was horrible. It was the only chance they had at a new beginning.

If this woman- with her ruffled red hair, and her broad, enthusiastic smile- if she never came forward, or never made the decision to leave, the best case scenario for her fate would be a coffin next to a husband who hit her, a fate shared unbeknownst to her by her grandmother-in-law. The worst case was to be in that coffin far, far too early.

Alex felt her throat constrict with emotion and she pulled at her fingers idly. The woman had gone back to crying, and she couldn't find any words to console her with.

“I’m sorry,” she said again quietly. “Perhaps you could convince your son to take his medication, or to commit himself. If she trusts you, you could convince her to come speak to me herself. Other than that, I … I don't have much advice to give.”

“She loves him,” the now inconsolable woman cried, “They love each other. He loves her. I- I don't know what to say to either of them, and that's if I see them again. They haven't come over in months. He hasn't been taking my calls.”

He loves her, Alex thought to herself sadly, but not enough to save her. He can't save her from himself.

Poor, poor woman. Poor man. Poor mother.

“I’m sorry,” she echoed for the third time, and then sat in silence, her blue eyes rounded uselessly on the form of a shaking elderly woman as she sobbed desperately at stupid fate. There was nothing she could say, there was even less she could do. She blinked at a box of tissues and tightened her jaw as she pushed them across the desk. It was the most she could offer, and she hated it.

A while later, the tears subsided, as they always at some point had too. The woman looked up and sniffled, taking another tissue and trying her best to clear her face.

She rummaged in the purse she had been clutching at and pulled out a small slip of paper, offering it over. Alex examined the business card. It was simple, nothing more than a name and a number, email, and fax. Not even a place of work, which Alex thought was slightly odd, but perhaps this had been made when she was seeking work and therefore wasn't yet registered to a firm or office.

She tried to push it back over the table, knowing the card would do nothing but haunt her, but the woman insisted. Alex offered the picture back and she tearfully accepted that one. Alex let out a small breath of relief, if this woman insisted she kept the picture, she wouldn't know what to do.

“Are you sure there's nothing?” She asked again, her voice hoarse.

“I … unless you want to get authorities involved, I’m … we aren't a real service, as you know. This is just an extension of a shelter organization. I can't force people to ask for help.” Alex murmured, knowing it wasn't a good enough response. She was being honest and logical, but it felt like she was making excuses.

She swallowed, and then offered up in a quiet voice, “I wish I could,” and it felt stupid and shallow to say but it was genuine and raw and she hoped her voice conveyed it. She hated how it felt like she was brushing this woman off but she genuinely had no clue what she could do to help.

The woman thanked her for her time, glanced around as though gathering her bearings- perhaps simply trying to gather her thoughts, reorganize her emotions after spilling it all out to a woman who was essentially useless to her struggle- and then left. Vanished back out into the world, a figure Alex could ponder on but probably would never see again. The most she could hope for is a mother’s love breaking the barrier of secrecy, or something like that. If she was hopeful, she could imagine this woman managing to convince her son to take his medication, or convince the girl she deserved better than a duplicate of her engagement ring embossed into her skin as the man she loved hit her.

Alex sat quietly with her hands folded neatly in her lap, as though in mourning for a funeral she was the first in attendance too.

Elizabeth Donnelly had told her in no uncertain words that her suspension was supposed to be a time to clear her head, so when she started work again, she wouldn't be as headstrong as she had been before. She was supposed to be the logical, cold, statuesque woman she normally presented herself as, she wasn't supposed to feel so deeply for each victim that they were burned into her subconscious like brands on prized cattle. Mistakes- no, not mistakes, Alex couldn't consider them that, but slips of judgement like the one that had let Olivia and Elliot into an apartment they shouldn't have had access too shouldn't happen again when she returned. She should've come back, having realized the error in her unruly, youthful ways and become the prosecutor she was expected to be. A shark. She should keep her head down for a little while and focus on the numbers, her closure percentage, and stop becoming so emotionally invested in things she had technically no hand in.

When Alex returned to work, a week or so after her late night conversation with a woman terrified of her son’s actions, she did not consider Donnelly’s motive at all achieved. If anything, volunteering at a domestic abuse shelter had made her even more empathic. The system had failed these women on multiple occasions, every one of them had had horror stories involving the police or a prosecution. It was hard not to think of gears churning, crushing bones and broken bodies as it went.

Returning to be a cog in that system felt odd, but she wanted to believe from the inside she could ensure at least the cases that fell on her desk were properly handled, lest someone else- someone who didn't care to help as much as she did- take and fumble them.

Olivia was ecstatic to have her back, hugging her tight around the ribs as Alex chuckled and kissed her on the cheek. The brunette detective acted as if she hadn't spent at least a few hours every week with her, whether it be late at night at Alex’s apartment with a bottle of wine they got too distracted to drink or whenever else Olivia could make time. Stabler was good natured the way he always is, and it felt good returning to this squad.

At least with Olivia on the team, she decided, she trusted the women whose tragedies the special victims unit was called to investigate would be well cared for. Even though it did mean, of course, cleaning up after Olivia and Elliot became rambunctious and tackled headfirst into matters much bigger than they were.

The usual rhythm was quickly re-established. Although others made jokes about how unhappy she must be, now that she had to wake up by a certain time again, internally Alex couldn't care less about the early mornings- they acted as though she had ever been one to sleep very much- and she had been spending her nights awake at some form of work either way.

She missed the women she had been volunteering with, but when she got a couple hours she could still go down to the office at which they took applicants and volunteer her time on days that ended early or began late. She couldn't go on expeditions to fish out whatever remains of a tattered life they could salvage anymore. It wasn't technically legal to take children with them, after all, not if they didn't have a custody arrangement, but Alex could not care about that.

It pained her that a few of the volunteers became wary of her when she resumed her prosecutorial duties. She would not burden these women by forcing them through a system she had seen first-hand fail people, even though she was part of it.

She had, admittedly, not left the volunteer work behind at all. It was small things, like how she had begun to people-watch significantly more than she had before. Alex considered herself to be more observant, even though she fretted over her confidence to make that claim, because who was she to decide if she was appropriately perceiving others.

Alex also considered that she was lost in thought a lot more. It was hard to struggle against her thoughts, against her ambitions, and trying to figure out systemic and societal problems while being only just a woman was implausible.

Still, during liminal time, she did little else than wonder about what more she could be doing. What progress had recently been made, what more progress needed doing, and what she could do about it.

She attributed being buried in her subconscious as to why she hadn't noticed the group of young lawyers- younger than her, if only by a little over half a decade, although she knew any judge would easily categorize her as also a young lawyer- until they were barely a few feet away from her.

One of them tripping was the only reason she was snapped back to reality, actually.

They had been arguing with each other, bantering about something Alex had barely processed- a sports match, or something like that- so that one woman’s torso was angled to a degree that when she stepped forward her coordination was lost and she fell forward.

Alex wanted to say she caught her, but she didn't really, she only just barely avoided being knocked over like a pair of dominoes and ending up awkwardly holding the woman’s shoulders as she blinked down at her, disoriented and mildly confused.

She tried not to drop her when she recognized who she was holding. She shouldn't have been able to recognize her, they had never met before, but she already knew much too much about her.

“I’m sorry,” the woman laughed, scrambling to right herself and smoothing down her blazer, and then brushing gently at Alex’s arms as if catching her had done something to mess the fabric up, while Alex could do nothing but stand there stupidly and stare at her, her lips parted slightly.

The broad smile she flashed at her so easily, although her eyebrows were tilted slightly in apologetics, was nearly identical to the photograph Alex had spent minutes studying. Her short hair was now neatly curled into spirals that framed her face, her athletic wear swapped out for more favorable lawyer attire. She was gorgeous, absurdly gorgeous. Alex felt her heart thrum in her chest from panic she didn't quite understand.

“You alright?” She asked, after the time for a conventional response had elapsed by a few seconds and Alex still hadn't said anything.

“Yeah,” Alex said, grabbing and thoroughly shaking herself internally, “Just fine, sorry. Are you?”

The woman chuffed softly in response, as if Alex had said something she found amusing, but she nodded once and Alex’s eyes couldn't help but follow the way her curls bobbed gently with the movement. Her voice was delicious. Alex decided immediately that this was the sort of woman who one would want to be in a room with, the type you sought out at parties, the girl you’d want to be next too and never on the opposing bench of. There was something about her, and it wasn't only the fact that she recognized her and already knew her tragedy- no, there was something about her that Alex couldn't put her thumb on that rendered her unable to tear her eyes away.

The two friends, or maybe they were simply companions, began walking again and clearly expected her to follow them, which she moved to do, even though her eyes showed slight confusion at the way Alex was so clearly staring.

“Hey,” Alex called out, suddenly, just as the woman was about to turn around, “What’s your name?”

“Why, are you going to report me to the dean for reckless speed-walking in the halls?” She joked, raising a brow even as she smiled, although she was now walking backwards which proved to weaken a point to be made about her pattern of hall traversal.

“It's Casey,” she told her when Alex smiled back politely, “Casey Novak.”

She turned on her heel, holding a hand up as a goodbye with a slight trace of a last apology, and then vanished around a corner with the other two.

The business card the elderly woman had insisted she’d keep was in her pocket and with a slight tremor in her wrist she found it, pulling out the slip of paper she had folded and reading the name in a simple font even as she desperately willed the universe to somehow change the name, make it not her.

Casey Novak

Alex tried not to imagine that gorgeous woman in a coffin.

[themculibrary]

Post-Movie: Deadpool 3: Deadpool & Wolverine (2024)

All I Want For Christmas is You (Deadpool Edition) (ao3) - jenniferlawrencelover logan/wade E, 52k

Summary: Wade never thought he would be engaged again.

And he wasn't.

Yet.

Children and Drunks Speak the Truth (ao3) - someone_worth_racing_for logan/wade M, 6k

Summary: Wade woke up hours later to a throbbing head and from the weirdest dream he ever had.

Wade had dreamed about getting over to Logan’s place and telling him that he loved him. He could also still remember about almost peeing onto Logan’s floor, dry humping his leg, sitting on his lap and throwing up in his toilet.

Why the hell did he dream bullshit like that? What was wrong with him?

With a frown and with his eyes still pressed closed, because he couldn’t deal with any lights right now, Wade slowly tried to sit up. He only made it half way, when he could suddenly hear a way too familiar voice in front of him

“Welcome back, bub.”

~~~~~

Or: Wade gets drunk to finally tell Logan how he really feels about him.

Dog Tags | A Poolverine Story (ao3) - andthatsallfolks logan/wade N/R, 15k

Summary: It's been 2 months since Deadpool and Wolverine saved the multiverse from the mega-bitch, Cassandra Nova-

'Ugh I hate that bitch so much. She’s literally so mean.'

“Shut up Wade.”

“Sorry Peanut!” 'Haha, Never.'

*Wade, can I just write the fucking story?*

'All right jeez Bossy Mcbossyton. Honey Badger we gotta be quiet, the author is getting pissy!'

don't fence me in (ao3) - Patricia_Sage T, 2k

Summary: Logan and Wade go on vacation.

Happy Together (ao3) - jenniferlawrencelover logan/wade E, 28k

Summary: When Logan moved into the crackhouse Wade made a crackhome, Wade never expected he would stay as long as he did. Nobody did. Least of all him.

Heartbreak is one thing (ao3) - Ikharys logan/wade E, 6k

Summary: Because letting Logan know that Wade wanted him would be like asking to have his head ripped off and thrown to a shark for dinner.

He Is Risen, Babygirl! (ao3) - RaysOccultBoobs logan/wade E, 3k

Summary: Sometimes a guy hits rock bottom so hard, he bounces and comes out a hero again.

What happened after Wade and Logan saved the Multiverse? The second coming.

In Hearts Once Dark And Hollow (ao3) - tardisy logan/wade M, 8k

Summary: Try as he might, Logan couldn’t remember the last time he truly enjoyed the holiday season, much less participated in any obligatory seasonal cheer. He still found himself perched on the periphery, watching, wondering, waiting. The perpetual outsider, like it had been baked into his DNA with his mutation, or pumped into him alongside the molten adamantium. Holidays or no, life continued on.

A series of snippets of Logan's life with Wade, set against the backdrop of the holiday season.

Or: Five times Logan kissed Wade during the holidays, and one time Wade kissed Logan.

In your messy motel room (ao3) - GAJAH_JJ logan/wade M, 9k

Summary: “I invited you here because I missed you."

Logan and Wade find each other again.

Maximum Effort (ao3) - ArtemisFAYZ012 logan/wade E, 168k

Summary: Grab your special sock, nerds. This is gonna get good. It's the sequel to Deadpool and Wolverine that they won't make because Disney is not ready for them yet...

Wade and Logan are living together. On paper, it's a motherfucking miracle. In reality, it's not what they thought it would be. Then the TVA offers them a job and things start a-changing. While Deadpool and Wolverine are fuckin' shit up, Wade falls first, but Logan falls harder. And shit goes sideways in the most colossal way.

I've split this story into 2 parts. Part 1 is Chapter 1 - Chapter 22. Part 2 is Chapter 23 - Chapter 34 (Epilogue) As this is a beast of a fic, you can stop at the end of Part 1. Part 2 slips more into Domestic Poolverine, all the romantic cuteness I could muster and a healthy sprinking of shameless smut ;)

Maximum Effort, Bubs and Babygirls

No Grave Can Hold My Body Down, I'll Crawl Home To Her (ao3) - MaxDoesThingsTheyShouldnt T, 13k

Summary: Deadpool was right, that's not how regenerative healing factors work. Once Logan's skeleton had been dug up from the soil the last bits of soft tissue were able to begin rebuilding him.

Laying in the forest and holding his daughter's hand Logan thought he would never wake up again, but he did, six years from when he was last conscious and with no idea where his daughter was Logan has to rejoin the world and put together what the hell happened all those years he was buried.

X-Men Logan comes back to life after the events of Deadpool and Wolverine.

Pavlov’s Dog (ao3) - panties_on_boys logan/wade E, 18k

Summary: Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille. Tobacco blossom, vanilla bean, and earthy spices.

Vanilla’s a classic, and the tobacco is a statement. Look, Lo, I already smell like you. I’m already yours, I smell like your hands when they ache in their tendons from rerolling those stupidly sexy Cohiba cigars. Do something about it before the animal beats you to the punch. 

Foolproof. Pavlov did it. Why can’t Wade?

Sunshine and Whiskey (ao3) - that_one_dead_author logan/wade E, 40k

Summary: “Oho, there’s number two-oh-seven.” Wade laughs and Logan already knows he’s grinning beneath his cowl. “That fight really got ya goin’ huh?”

Logan hated the way he could feel his cheeks heat up. He snarled, “shut the fuck up, Red.” There was a spray of warm blood against Logan’s knuckles, a breathy groan from Wade sending a shiver down the older man’s spine.

Wade glanced out of a broken window to his right. “Isn’t he cute?” He asked an invisible audience. Logan rewarded him with another stab.

Wade’s attention turned back to Logan, gloved hands grabbing his hips and giving an experimental roll of his hips. Logan’s breath hitched, and Wade had the passing thought that he wanted to swallow the sound.

the bucket list (ao3) - mikaminato logan/wade E, 33k

Summary: Wade loses his mutation and his cancer returns. With only a little time left, he decides to create a bucket list and make the most of his final moments. Together with Logan, he tries to check off every item on the list.

That is, until Logan decides he's not ready to say goodbye just yet.

The destruction of worlds, or men chatter about nothing (ao3) - danny_valentin_87 logan/wade G, 3k

Summary: The two, now good friends Deadpool and Wolverine, as is their custom, embark on their Saturday night pub crawl while engaging in meaningful conversation. Or at least, they try to.

Was That A Snort? (ao3) - bluebully T, 6k

Summary: To get some payback Wade attacks Logan with tickles and is beyond amused by the sounds he manages to get out of him while the whole experience ends up putting Logan's head in a better place. 💗

Some snorty, ticklish Logan for your viewing pleasure!

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

M/M Tickle Fic

we got love sure enough (ao3) - ziphiidae logan/wade M, 30k

Summary: There’s something about the mundane that wrestles with Logan’s mind far more than violence ever has. He’s already proven to himself that he can be a hero. Now it’s time to prove he can once again be someone worthy of trust on a far more personal level. ___

Or, Logan and Wade's bumpy road to domesticity.

[thegoddesswater]

Blorbo Blursday! Among your characters, what letter is favored to start the name with?

Thanks!

I did a quick-ish brainstorm of as many characters as I could remember and, like the dork that I am, put them all in a spreadsheet so I could count. I knew there would be trends and that it would almost definitely be "A" or "R" as the most common first initial for my characters. (And then NEITHER WAS) I figured "J" was going to have a much stronger showing, but apparently not... Maybe I just feel like there's more Js because they tend to congregate when they're in the same story...

Top 5 initials were:

C - 20 entries (10.7%)

A - 18 entries (9.6%)

R - 16 entries (8.6%)

K - 13 entries (6.9%)

S - 11 entries (5.8%)

Also, I am legitimately surprised that I have used each letter at least once for everyone I came up with.

[inktheblot]

the best people in life are free 🌈✨

Been a while since I finished an AMV so I just messed around with one for fun 💖

[molathesunfish]

my limbus bugs mainly based on characters that may or may not show up later... and one mystery feature for your guessing fun:]

[winter-spark]

CitoIta and Kingdom Hearts Headcanons

Because I like Kingdom Hearts and I like them and they are gamers

(I say CitoIta but honestly, it’s just because it’s about Citron & Itaru, the ship is kinda vague here lol. Like it’s probably optional to read it that way at this point)

(There’s an attempted bonus section about Banri at the end, that’s why I tagged him.)

Edit: Ignore this part, just felt wrong to delete {Opening in new tab is strongly advised. I used bullet points with sub bullet points. UPDATE: I personally struggled with opening this in a new tab on the blog where all the subpoints are properly formatted, so I pinned it so you can go right to my blog and find it easily if you want. Also I moved the Intro below the Keep Reading link for space.}

Keep Reading (I manually put this one so it would hopefully always open in a new properly formatted tab)

In this post, scientifically backed by my memory, understanding of the characters and other things (eg: feelings, unlisted headcanons, & my understanding of types of people in fanbases/the kh fandom, minus shippers, I’m not touching that... here, I might consider it in the future, probably not but maybe), I will go over basics like how many games they’ve played and their fave games, trios, characters by groups, and moments. Also, there are conversations and little tidbits about how it fits into their world. I tried to pick a favorite battle but note that they probably have more than one those are just notable ones that I thought were worth mentioning. There will be KH spoilers if you’re someone unfamiliar/not caught up with it. 

Citron

Has not played every game but has looked into the story and watched playthroughs of some of the other games.

Hasn’t played the games he has played in order, 

Might not have caught up on the story in order but if so that’d be more because he was looking for specific characters and info

Has definitely played BBS, Days, CoM, UX, & Dark Road. 

Might’ve played (one, two or all three of the following, idk) DDD, Re:Coded, KH

Has definitely not played KH2,

Likes to find/delve into theories

Read the Sleeping Realm Theory 

to Itaru, because he thought it sorta sounded interesting but told Citron he wasn’t reading all that.

I don’t know any other names of long theories besides SRT but you can bet your bottom dollar that Citron has read(or listened to) them for sure

Wants very much to try Sea Salt ice cream

Considering figuring out how to make Wayfinders

UX Union:

Anguis 

and has never switched unions

Favorites:

Game: Birth By Sleep

Trio: Keyblade Knights

Lost Trio is a close second

Character from each group:

Destiny: Sora

Sea Salt: Axel

Keyblade Knights: Aqua

Twilight Town: Hayner

Lost Trio: Namine

but Vanitas is a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Xemnas, Zexion/Ienzo or Demyx(probably depends on the day)

Foretellers: Luxu

Xkids: Brain

& He gets bonus points for dressing up his Chirithy

DR Underclassmen: Vor

DR Upperclassmen: Vidar

Xehanort: Xemnas (?)

I know I listed Xemnas as one of his faves in Organization 13 but genuinely I feel it’s a v love hate relationship, where the love is that he can and definitely would(is like two seconds away from it) do an analysis on Xemnas’s actions/behaviors/character

Boss Battle(that he definitely 100% played): 

BBS Aqua ft. Terra vs Terranort

Opening:

Birth by Sleep 0.2 A Fragmentary Passage

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All three:

KH3

Terra gaining control and saving Aqua and Ven

Aqua:

BBS

Doing her job but still standing up for Stitch

Giving up everything to try and save Terra

BBS 0.2

Knowingly chasing after illusions of her friends because she misses them so much.

Terra:

BBS

Gaining hope from meeting Cinderella

Standing against Eraqus to protect Ven

Ven:

BBS:

Running away with Stitch, lowkey being a space criminal

DDD:

Putting his armor on Sora to protect him from the darkness 

Involving someone other than Fave Trio:

KH1:

Kairi protecting Sora/saving him from being a Heartless

Days:

that Sora just subconsciously gave some of his memories to Xion because she didn’t have any

DDD

Neku telling Joshua Shibuya is his home too

Sora going off to thank the Dreameaters

Commonly Quoted(? idk what else to call these, i specifically mean the ones you find in compilations and stuff) Lines from the English Translation: “[’Me? I’m already half Xehanort'] ‘That’s nuts...’”

Bracketed the first part bcuz I think he uses the second part as a reaction sometimes, same infliction and everything

It’s at the point that Tsuzuru’s familiar with it, against his wishes(If Citron says the first part Tsuzuru might accidentally properly respond, that’s how deep in he is, he’s not even sure who Xehanort is(but he does think that’s nuts))

Final things of note: 

Is excited for Atlantis in KH2

Enjoys the attractions in KH3:

Loves that Dark Aqua could be beat w/ a pirate ship 

Loves that there was a roller coaster in the Keyblade Graveyard

Favorite Summons:

KH: Tinkerbell & Bambi

KH2: Stitch

KH3: Ariel & Meowwow

Often forgets he has items but has gotten really good at blocking and healing because of it

Very good with magic

Itaru

Has played just about every game in release date order, 

with just about 100% completion on all of them

Is (lowkey, but acts highkey) appalled Citron hasn’t played the games in order, currently planning time for them to play through all the games together

Has read the manga and maybe some of the light novels

Does look at theories sometimes, might even have a few of his own, definitely has his own headcanons

Secretly wishes he could share a Paopu Fruit w/ someone

UX Union:

Vulpeus

There’s a possibility he might’ve tried the other unions at some point but Vulpeus is his main and current union

Favorites:

Game: KH2

Trio: Sea Salt

Character from each group:

Destiny: Currently Riku, 

Wants it to be Kairi, but it’s just not, is always excited and ready for Kairi news tho

Was Sora for awhile

Sea Salt: Roxas, 

It really is, but he would absolutely main Xion if given the chance

Keyblade Knights: Aqua

Twilight Town: Roxas  Olette 

though he somewhat feels guilty to Pence as feels like he spent more time with Pence but that Olette is just a tad bit cooler

Lost Trio: Rep,

but Namine’s a close second 

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Currently Saïx/Isa, but it’s kind of a love hate relationship

There’s also a lean towards Larxene

Foretellers: Ava

Xkids: Skuld

DR underclassmen: Baldr

DR Upperclassmen: Hoder

Yes he cried over their story, no he won’t openly admit it

Chikage did witness it tho

Xehanort: Ansem SoD

Boss Battle (that he definitely 100% played): 

Days Roxas v Xion

Opening:

KH2, 

not because KH2 is his favorite game but rather it adds to why KH2 is his favorite game

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All Three:

KH3

Their whole battle/reunion

to clarify the Lea Isa scene is a part of that

Roxas:

Days

The scene around the Riku vs Roxas battle

KH2:

Roxas v Sora scene

(I debated between this and the DDD scene. Also I feel like his list of favorite Roxas moment is longer than this but)

Xion:

KH2:

The seashell in the opening... for Xion

Days

Xion getting her own answers and spending time with Namine and Riku

Xion leaving all those seashells for Roxas

Axel:

CoM

Letting Namine go

KH2

Sacrificing himself to save Sora

Involving someone other than Fave Trio: 

KH2

Sora and Riku in RoD

Coded:

(Data-)Riku reaching for the moon

UX

Ephemer and Skuld saving Player|Star(light)/bringing them to the new version of the world

KH3 Re: Mind

Playing as Kairi in that boss battle

The fact that Kairi throws her keyblade because she trained with Axel

Commonly Quoted(?) Lines from the English Translation: “Roxas, that’s a stick.”

Final things of note:

Has found all 101 Dalmatians

Has read fanfiction longer than the Sleeping Realm Theory

(which is actually really easy to do, I looked it up and the docs word count is 31,265)

Has his Data-boss battles on his channel

Proud it only took a couple of tries to beat Yozora (he recorded each try to put his win on his channel)

Uses items all the time, knows when the best time to effectively use items for maximum item usage

“Actual" conversations:

Fave Games:

Itaru: *rambling about some KH2-related topic &/or how he can’t believe Citron hasn’t played 2*

Citron: ooo! Itaru, are you one of those guys who feels Kingdom Hearts peaked at 2?

Itaru: Kingdom Hearts 2 is just an objectively good game, the other games are good too though. KH2 is just, objectively speaking, great. Is it my favorite? Yes, but it’s completely warranted as...

Citron: *smiling as Itaru starts rambling knowing that he’s point two seconds away from going into a 2hr spiel about how KH2 is great*

Itaru: *clears throat catching himself early* A-Anyway, which one’s your favorite?

Citron: Birth by Sleep! I love the ice cream rhythm game :3

Itaru: *understanding that there’s definitely a lot deeper of a reason to that being Citron’s fave* Oh, that’s a good pick. Actually sorta seems on brand for you. Ice Cream Beat is pretty fun.

[Then they boot up Itaru’s copy of BBS and play Ice Cream Beat]

Play Order:

Itaru: So it’s a little late for you to get the full proper experience but we’re gonna play the games in order because it’s really the best way to experience the games.

Citron: Ok, speaking of order and since we’ll get to Birth By Sleep eventually, we both agree that the best way to play the first time is Aqua Terra Ven, yes?

Itaru [has played each route and in varying order, does not quite remember which order he played the game in the first time but is pretty sure it was Terra Ven Aqua]: ...Ven makes a lot of sense to play last...

Citron: Then I am glad we are in agreement. ^^

Itaru: Most people play Aqua last tho--

Citron: Sure chronologically she left Land of Departure last, but story telling-wise *starts talking about why Aqua, Terra, Ven is the best order*

Twewy: (I could do a whole other post on headcanons regarding them playing twewy, it’d maybe be shorter, tho maybe I won’t bcuz I feel like they know more than me lol(I say like Itaru doesn’t know more about KH than me *cries*). If I refer to twewy’s og name wrong here I’m sorry)

Citron: It’s cool that the twewy characters were in DDD. :)

Itaru: Yea. Oh you played subaseka before you met the cast in 3D right?

Citron: :)

Itaru: Right?

[Citron refuses to answer because he thinks leaving Itaru hanging is funnier than a yes or no ever could be]

Ansem SoD as Itaru’s Fave Xehanort:

Citron *three seconds after finding out*: So, is he your favorite because nostalgia as he was the first one you battled or because you think he’s hot?

Itaru: *chokes on being immediately found out because it’s both*

Bonus: Banri & KH Headcanons for no reason other than he also plays games

(With some obligatory Citron and Itaru mentions below because this is their post lol Banri’s not a part of CitoIta. Just to clarify)

Probably has not played all the games

Stares at Itaru whenever he starts talking about secret bosses or hard-to-find treasure chests/secret reports typically until he stops, lists a specific Banri is familiar with or Banri finds a way to shift the conversation. It’s not that he hasn’t come across them he just

doesn’t know which bosses are secret and which aren’t

doesn’t go out of his way to look for treasure chests

Partakes in the memes

Can quote more games than he played honestly, loves those “out of context”/”lines I quote” videos

Has memes saved to his phone

Azami and Taichi borrowed his phone once for picture reasons and Azami was appalled by the Aqua Cinderella meme & the Terra memes (ifykyk)

Probably had Xion’s scream from Days as Sakyo’s someone’s ringtone as a joke (can people set ringtones and ringback tones anymore?) but then he recieved a call from that person in public and was lowkey highkey embarassed so he unset it

He and Citron:

have done a Goofy rendition of Bring Me to Life one time

though Banri sorta begrudgingly participated

At least one Mankai member who was there said he’s not going Karaoke w/ them anymore

are quick to point out or send pictures of “Lucky Emblems” when they see them, it’s almost a contest at this point

Sakyo has asked them to stop sending “lOOk!! a LuCKy emBlem!” in the main chat with a picture of three connected circles, Itaru eggs them on tho

Itaru participates too but he doesn’t have the same luck in seeing them, he is the reason they started tho as in person he pointed one out so later Citron sent a picture of one to show him, so Banri just had to too but he sent two as he already had the pictures and was gonna show them later, so Citron had to find two more to be in the lead and after he found just one more, Banri caught on that they were competing and they spiraled from there

I know logically they don’t appear that often irl but I also know in my heart that it’s happened enough that Taichi, then Kazu and Kumon participated. Now,  the rest of Mankai keeps an eye out for them

Between Tsumugi’s picture of flower bulbs leaning together captioned “Does this count as a lucky emblem?” Izumi asking how many points she gets for a random spot on the ground that sorta looks like a lucky emblem & Omi sending a picture of at lighting set up from work saying “ at this angle this sorta looks like a lucky emblem right?” Sakyo’s feeling a little betrayed because each of those were during times when people weren’t actively mentioning them in the chat.

Winter Troupe is the first troupe to all find at least one “Lucky Emblem”

Autumn troupe (jokingly) blame Sakyo for them not being first

UX Union:

Has probably been in a couple, Ursus or Vulpeus most recently

Favorites:

Game: Dream Drop Distance

but would rather tell you he “hasn’t thought about it, maybe 2″

Trio: Destiny, 

but might not correct you if you guessed Sea Salt,

Character from each group:

Destiny: Riku

He honestly sorta relates in ways. I’m not gonna get too into it but like yea he feels.

Sea Salt: Roxas

Keyblade Knights: Terra, 

but he makes jokes that rag on him a lot so unless you know Banri you would probably think he hates him or just likes to make fun of him. He really does like Terra as a character tho. Feels for him too. But as we know bullying is his love language

Twilight Town: Seifer Pence

Seifer’s a joke fave because of the undeniable proof [they] totally owned [those] lamers (if ykyk)

Lost Trio: Vanitas, 

but Rep’s a close second

Organization 13(minus Sea Salt): Larxene & Xigbar

Foretellers: Luxu (?)

Xkids: Player|Star(light)

DR Underclassmen: Xehanort, “but Bragi’s kinda cool, I guess.”

DR Upperclassmen: *hasn’t actually caught up yet, but he likes Helgi’s design*

Xehanort: Young Master Xehanort(YMX)

Itaru says it’s because they’re both brats

Boss Battle (that he definitely 100% played): 

KH2 Sora v Sephiroth or DDD Riku v YMX [I couldn’t decide which one to list]

Opening:

KH3

Moments/Tidbits:

Involving Fave Trio:

All Three:

KH2

Kairi “calling Riku tf out” ultimately leading to the reunion

KH3

Riku talking with Rep on the beach, Kairi and Sora sees him sitting there by himself

Sora:

KH1

Sora giving his goofy smile before plunging a keyblade into his chest

KH3

Sora dropping down to protect Riku from Dark Aqua in the nick of time

Riku:

DDD

That Riku just subconsciously became a dream eater

KH3

Riku taking a stand against the heartless despite just about all hope being lost

Kairi:

KH2:

Kairi(and Namine) preparing to fight Saix and the berserker nobodies with their bare hands

KH3 Re:Mind

Kairi getting a surprise attack in on Xemnas

Involving someone other than Fave Trio: 

KH3

Yeetus Vanitas

Woody roasting YMX

DDD

YMX & Vanitas spouting “nonsense” at Sora

Lea showing up and Donald & Goofy dropping from the sky, ultimately coming to the rescue

UX

Star ready to square up with the Foretellers

mainly in reference to the Star v Ira speech/scene/fight but the Aced one too

Commonly Quoted(?) Lines from the English Translation: “Mickey it’s Riku, they put bugs in him!” & “Thank you Sora’s heart”

Final things of note:

Always plays on proud mode from the get-go

Not really a completion-ist but does have just about every trophy earned on DDD

Didn’t know you could lose to Yozora in the battle against him

Probably actually more of a Final Fantasy fan than KH, or at least got into KH because the Final Fantasy appearances

Bonus Convos:

Demyx:

Itaru: Yea, I can’t figure out Luxord, for Demyx I’ve seen people guess his name as Myde.

Banri: lol I like the theory that his name is Demyx and he just wandered into the Organization 

Citron: That one is funny, but as far as likelyness goes I like to think his name is Demy and they just slapped an x at the end.

Banri: The laziest naming.

Citron: Exactly!

[and then Banri and Citron start talking about Demyx and it somehow leads them to talking about Goofy’s “death” in KH2 and now they’re talking about KH memes and jokes and Itaru just wanted to know if they had any thoughts on Luxord’s name.]

Vanitas vs Aqua:

Banri: *(possibly somewhat jokingly) insinuates Vanitas is as strong but probably stronger than Aqua*

Citron: *gasp* No!! He is not.

Banri: Really? Then how come he almost took Aqua out?

Citron[genuinely loves Vanitas]: He is a rat! He cannot beat Aqua in a fair fight!

Itaru: I believe he means brat.

Citron: No!! I mean rat, feral ferret child! Can only beat Aqua after biting her and giving her rabies! And even then, she still has at least a week to destroy him.

Itaru: lol that’s quite the metaphor.

Banri: I... *got lost* ???

Itaru: He’s saying Vanitas can only use dirty tricks to even get close to beating Aqua.

Banri: ???

Citron: If Vanitas could beat her he wouldn’t have to result to tricks like firing at Ven, which she was already off her A-game then mind you. But honestly, if Vanitas can’t even get close to beating Terra what hope does he have to actually beat Aqua. I can vouch that he can’t beat Terra. I beat the Terra v Xehanort and Vanitas battle by whacking Vanitas around. It was really easy. Vanitas has only beaten Ven in a fair fight. He’s not nearly as strong as Terra and Aqua. It’s demonstrated through their elements, really. Vanitas is fire...

Banri: *stressed, wasn’t expecting a whole lecture, looks to Itaru for help*

Itaru: *nodding along listening to what Citron has to say*

So yeah those are some of my headcanons involving KH and CitoIta (and Banri with minor Mankai mentions.) If anyone wants to do Taichi(who idk could play already, while I haven’t picked any out I know what type of moments would be his faves, I just can’t figure out yet if he prefers characters he relates to or characters he thinks are cool/want to be like) or Kumon (who I’d feel would want to start after seeing them enjoy it, bet Banri and Citron would have him play chronologically by timeline rather than release order “for science”) or any other characters, really, I’d gladly read it. I can see Taichi & Kumon playing KH but I don’t feel like I know them well enough to do this with them lol. I’m not even sure I know Banri well even to this with him but I attempted it lol. If there’s any questions about my decisions I might answer them, some are easier to put into words than others though. 

Anywho, I dunno how to end this post tbh. Ship CitoIta, Play Kingdom Hearts. idk. 

Thanks for reading all of my nonsense lol.

[reikunrei]

the more i think about it, the less i think i want Will to have any powers at all...

like, just thinking about it in relation to his character, and also to El's, and to Vecna/Henward and the story as a whole... i find it harder and harder to place Will having powers into it?

like... he is an extremely non-violent character, and while his powers don't necessarily have to be like that of El or Henry which involve violence sometimes, i just... have trouble imagining what else they could take the form of. (which is just on me more than anything, but still.) the only thing i can really think of that would make everything come full circle is "casting" a protection "spell" like he almost did in season 1 in their campaign. but imo that wouldn't even require him to have any real "powers."

i'm just a total sucker for "he uses his sense of love, kindness, and understanding to save the day." like he doesn't use any sort of magical/psychic powers, but his steadfast love protects him and his friends from harm; they create an "armor" that Vecna can't break through. (kind of like It, how the Losers weaken It by basically laughing in its face and not letting the fear take over. i'm in the middle of reading It rn so i don't remember exactly how it all works lmao sorry)

and again to go back to his non-violent nature, he's a smart kid. he doesn't need brawn to fight back. he can run, he can hide, he can outsmart the bad guy.

and that leads me into how this relates to El and Vecna: i feel like it would be fitting for both of them to learn they're not "superior" just because they have their abilities. like, for the sake of El, she doesn't need to have powers to be powerful, to be a "superhero" if she wants to be one from time to time, she can just be herself, and that alone makes her worthy of love and praise. and Vecna doesn't belong on his high horse just because he has these powers; they don't make him better than anyone else. and he needs to understand that he is just like everyone else, and someone simply holding out a helping hand is all he needs. and i feel like Will should be that person. Vecna's true opponent isn't someone who's on his level, like El, imo. his true opponent and the one who will really change him is someone who is simply kind to him.

and isn't that what the whole story is about? about being kind to each other and accepting each other, no matter the differences or the grievances? people do bad things sometimes, but it's always better to try and understand them rather than simply condemning them to death. life is messy, we're all human, we make mistakes, and we simply have to learn to grow from them.

now, I’ve seen plenty of "Will with powers" theories and the ideas of what they might be, and I’m not opposed to it at all, bc I trust they’ll be handled in a way that’s good both for him and for the story. earlier i even mentioned the "outsmarting the bad guy" discussion that he and Joyce have in season 1, and he says there that he needs the fireballs because sometimes the bad guys are smart, too. cool! maybe Will has some sort of power involving light and fire, which would work thematically with the interactions with the lights (maybe Will was the the one who made that happen and it isn't something default to the UD) and the constant connections between Will and sunlight.

but again... does that mean he has to have actual powers? or is Will, himself, the "light"? is Will and his kind nature all that they need to break through to Henry and Edward? we've already been shown that physical violence will not work against Vecna. he was turned into a flaming slice of swiss cheese and he still got up and walked away. we’ve even been shown that he can’t be defeated by psychic abilities, since the main timeline(s) we see don’t result in his actual death in HNL, so why would Will need psychic abilities to defeat him?

idk i just... think it's interesting and i'm curious to see where it goes. because while it could and would make sense for him to have powers of some kind, i feel like it would also be extremely satisfying if his "power" was simply being himself: a kind, sensitive, and simple boy who just wants to find love and happiness. like, if his arc is about learning he's allowed to want love, and he's deserving of love, then why not have him extend that to Vecna?

in short, i think a lot of my thoughts and questions about it boils down to: what does it bring to the story as a whole? what makes it necessary that he have powers like El and Henry? what kind of message does it send to the audience? what is the purpose?

[succubusvalentine]

Simon Riley with a user who basically kidnaps herself. CW : Masturbation, mentions of oral

It started with the little things. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise more frequently. You heard heavy breathing and a slick sound at night coming from your slightly open window. A blank account following your public instagram account.

You then started seeing him. A tall burly man that seemed to always appear In the corner of your eye. You never saw his face because of the balaclava he wore. And that frustrated you.

Hell, if a guy is going to stalk you, the least he can do is not hide his face.

Eventually, you got sick of it. You let the brute of a man follow you home as usual. Let him watch you 'sleep' through your window while he fisted his cock. And then when he went home, you followed him.

You honestly thought he'd catch you. Feel you watching him. Following him home. But it seemed that his post orgasmic haze rendered him vulnerable.

You followed the man to a nice looking home. Not huge or anything, but It was cozy.

You then watched through a window as he drank a glass of whiskey, before walking through the home to his bedroom.

You quickly rushed to the bedroom window, glad the blinds weren't fully shut.

The man then sat down on his bed, pulling something from his bedside drawer-hey wait, are those your fucking panties you lost? Sneaky bastard. Those are your favourite.

And now he's fisting his cock again. Only this time, he's taken off that stupid balaclava to sniff them and-oh.

Oh.

Fuck, he's hot.

Those scars, the dirty blonde hair, the slightly crooked nose from being broken so many times, Jesus H Christ.

Yeah. To say you were thinking of this mans face between your thighs was an understatement. He might genuinely be one of the hottest men you've ever seen.

You quickly went home, going to the blank account that had followed you, and with a few clicks, you found the guys private instagram. Simon Riley. He's not the only person who's good at stalking.

You then found out that he was in the military. A Lieutenant. Seemed to be really private. No matter though, you already knew where he lived.

The following day, you took the day off work, and broke into Simon's home. Moving almost all of your stuff in. He wouldn't mind.

Then, when Simon walked into his house he stopped dead in his tracks as he saw you, sipping from one of his mugs, on his couch.

The woman he'd been stalking for nearly a year.

"I-what-what are you doing here?" He muttered, eyes wide as he took off his balaclava.

"You should have shown me your face earlier. I would have moved in ages ago" you shrugged.

"Moved in?" Simon almost squeaked.

⛧°. ⋆𓌹♰𓌺⋆. °⛧

before you all panic, yes. There will be a part two :p

Edit! ~ there's a part 2 you thirsty animals ⟢ right here! ❤︎

[xavieremix]

okay so the tags on that last post got me feeling those melon collies so i'm just gonna. tagdump in here. slightly sensitive topics? so uh. scroll down (or press J to jump to next post). or read my thoughts like the morning paper. sorry. cheers.

[mina-org]

part one - part two (youre here) - part three - part four - part five- six

warning for smut, 141 are panty sniffers! and more yanderery than the last! I have another part written but I just felt like was already dragged a lil so lmk if you want the next part! also not edited bc im lazy

“The birds just not fuckin’ into ya johnny. She never took this long to respond to me.” Simon smirks, truthfully he didn’t really remember but he was fucked off with this entire thing, not only was Johnny after his bird but texting you became a group sport, even the double text.

Simon seethes, usually you would've crawled back to him by now, you'd get drunk and call him sobbing from whatever pub you were at and you'd owe him, rinse and repeat.

At least if you were into Johnny he'd know what you were doing but now your absence started to eat at him, he just wondered your were like a deer fresh out the womb, learning to walk, how would you survive when Simon wasn't there to pick up your the pieces when you inevitably fell apart again.

simon couldnt take them fawning over you anymore so he returned to his bedroom, he had a little secret that he had to keep from those closest to him, your underwear. A collection really.

to start with, they were just tucked in his bag for when he was deployed, he’d push a pair around his cock, satin felt nice but the cream pair with little berries on? they were too cute and so you. He’d pump his cock until they were stick with his cum.

then when he was home more often and you were fucked too dumb to bounce on his cock, neglecting him after hes giving you so many? he'll remember that for next time. and really left him no choice but to scout out your discarded panties, maybe a fresh pair if you packed them, and he'd finish himself off before tugging them up your legs, his cum from earlier still leaking out your pretty pussy. something about you walking home in shame, carrying him with you, a sense of ownership simon loved.

now these panties were all he had, and he wasn't gonna share them. maybe with Johnny, if he was good.

after a week it just wasnt doing it for him anymore, he needed to see his girl but all his texts weren't sending:( and he hadn't seen you at the gym or the pilates class you spent so much money on. almost like your little temper tantrum was serious this time.

okay so it took simon a week or two to turn up begging, well demanding your forgiveness.

or he would've, if you answered the fucking door? after coming over and almost fighting your door guy a few times, he gets the hint, stealth is wealth and all that.

now here he is, staring at you through binoculars, on the rooftop opposite your building, like he's gathering intel or some shit. originally he was gonna keep this to himself, threes a crowd after all but it was chilly on the rooftop and simon is all about efficiency and your safety of course!

thing is, that pesky door man knows who simon is, and its doubtful a stick on moustache and boiler suit is gonna convince him that simon is also the buildings engineer!

through this process they've found out your building has a lot of security issues, nobody even thought about cyber security so when gaz sends out an email with a list of apartment numbers and a time, stating some maintenance was needed, no one bats an eye.

and of course you dont want any awkward conversations, like offering them tea or coffee 50 times while they try to focus but they'd think you rude if you dont and you can't ignore them, thats rude too. so you have to go out and stay out.

so you go shopping, you've been needing more underwear anyway!

soon enough John and gaz are in your apartment, putting up hidden cameras, slipping trackers into the linings of your most worn clothes, rifling through your belongings and testing out your perfume, trying to figure out which one you use daily from the memories of your scent lingering on simon and around the flat.

however gold is struck when they come across your laundry basket! feral is the best fitting word, Johnny will froth at the mouth once they tell him and of course share the bounty of their conquest.

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457

[bastardlybonkers]

i feel like not enough ppl are factoring in the cultural clash between laios and shuro and the many micro agressions shuro faced while being in their group. literally the name 'shuro' in itself is one

his name is toshiro 😭 lets also not forget that he has his own communication issues, in the opposite way that laios does- thats literally a factor in their argument, that his envy for laios's ability to express himself sincerely manifested as part of his distaste for him.

ig all this to say like, was their fight heart wrenching, especially when reading laios as autistic? absolutely. anybody whos ever been in laios's position knows how much it hurts to realize someone you thought was your friend doesnt actually like having you around, especially when they didnt tell you and you had no way of knowing due to not understanding their cues. but im begging yall to step back and see the nuance of this situation cause im gonna be real a lot of you are kinda just brushing over it acting like everything is toshiros fault and that hes a terrible person when in reality hes an average guy who really, really clashed with laios and it led to a very long misunderstanding due to their supremely opposite methods of communication. even laios and toshiro, after letting everything out in their fight, were able to come to an understanding and start a foundation for an actual friendship built on better communication

ok yknow what Edit: i shouldve made it even more explicit at the end of this post, i hadnt thought i would need to since i started the post with this, but i think a few too many people are missing my point so i just wanna clarify. i shouldnt have said 'really clashed' and left it at that because yeah they did, but it wasnt just their opposite methods of communication, it is also very much that toshiro was experiencing microaggressions via laios. it may have been unintentional on laios's part, but it still happened and wore him down, made it harder for him to communicate on top of both the more subtle social cues that he was raised with and his own communication difficulties. i also want to say that the fandom reaction to toshiro and the complete ignorance of this point is also racist tbh or at the very least ignorant. i understand that the anime did not cover this panel, and neither did the manga, as this was an omake, but im gonna be real with you guys. there are enough context clues within the story to clue you into this. if you didnt pick up on it thats ok, but i think this is a good lesson in picking up subtext in the stories that youre watching and/or reading. kui shouldnt have to explicitly say 'by the way laios was racist to toshiro' for this point to be understood, and at the very least, when the author portrays a character in a sympathetic light (as kui clearly does) it should make you question Why they are doing so and what makes them sympathetic, rather than youre immediate and only reaction to be 'well i hated what this guy did/said so i hate them and they suck'. idk exactly how to finish this, just. idk. question your biases and gut reactions to things you see in media and stories, and think about whether or not theres subtext that youre missing.

[a-mint-bear]

Comfort Object

Male Yandere x Reader

You see a really weird "job" post online, and the money seems too good to be true. But you aren't really in a position where you can turn it down...

You hope it doesn't get weird.

Parts: [ x / 2 / 3 ]

---

It was a very… concerning “job” posting.

But desperate times, and all that. 

It had shown up about a week ago, and it wasn’t hard to see why no one had taken the poster up on it as of yet. 

Bedmate Needed

● 11 pm to 6 am

● $25/hour up front

● Riverside Motel

● Room 44

● Not a sex thing

The last note seemed tacked on in a later edit, but it was still… not great.

You’d have to be either a gullible idiot or a desperate one to go for a job like this. Unfortunately, you were the latter. Very much so.

You couldn’t take another night on the street. It was getting so cold out. The promise of a warm bed was almost enough to lure you in on its own. But the money… 175 bucks just to sleep in the same bed as some internet creep?

Despite the clarification in the post, this had to be a sex thing, right?

You hadn’t gone that far, despite everything. It’s not like you hadn’t considered it… but the thought was too terrifying. Making yourself completely vulnerable to a stranger that could just decide you were less than a person and do whatever they wanted to you? You had to draw the line somewhere.

But at this point, you weren’t sure that there was a line you weren’t willing to cross anymore. 

. . .

The Motel wasn’t the seediest you’d ever seen around town but it wasn’t a place you would’ve voluntarily stayed at even two months ago. Back when you had options. 

Creepy post guy opened the door after a couple of knocks, with an awkward, pregnant pause between them. He wasn’t quite what you expected for an internet creep, but he was still a sight to see.

Really bad posture and dark, greasy-looking hair, with the darkest circles under his eyes you’d ever seen. He looked like he was about to pass out at any second, but he held it together long enough to gesture you into the room. 

“Hey…” His voice was low but he sounded nervous. And so, so tired. “You’re… You’re a little early. That’s…that’s fine. Uh, come in.”

You felt his eyes on you as you passed him, and it didn’t help your anxiousness. Not one bit. 

“Hey so, I-I really…I uh, need a shower.” He stumbled over his words with a breathy, nervous laugh. “Unless you wanna sleep next to a… fuckin’ sweaty mess all night. Do you wanna go first or…?”

You must’ve looked nervous because his eyes went wider, digging into his pocket.

“I wasn’t tryin’ to… Oh, uh…here.” He nodded, pressing the money into your hand. “Up front, just… just like I said. You just…just seemed like you maybe sorta needed one too.”

Some part of you must’ve still had an ounce of pride left because your whole body felt on fire with shame, embarrassment so consuming that you froze up. It had been a couple of days…

He just looked away, seeming like he was embarrassed himself. 

“I w-wasn’t gonna like… try to join you or peep on you or nothin’!” He tried to assure you, eyes darting in a panic and talking a bit too fast. “If I, like, go first? I won’t get mad if you change your mind and leave… I get it. I’m not gonna like… go after you or call the cops or nothin’ like that. I just…”

He stared at the floor, nails digging into his arm as he seemed like he was having trouble breathing.

“I really… I really need this.” He was so quiet, but his voice was so desperate.

You couldn’t really be considering this, could you?

He seemed more like a weird, awkward, sad guy than a real danger or some kind of pervert.

And you really did need a hot shower. 

It seemed like a safer bet to have him go first, if you were really going through with this. And it would give you a chance to look around the room for a spot to tuck away your pocket knife, just in case.

When he was in the shower, you did just that. The spot between the mattress and bed frame would be easy to grab at if things got hinky.

If things got all touchy-feely, as you suspected they would, him finding that on you or leaving it in your pocket when your clothes got tossed wherever would be really inconvenient. 

Steam rolled out of the bathroom when he stepped out, shirtless but with sweatpants and a towel around his neck. He was thin, almost alarmingly so, but you could still see muscle, enough to pose a problem should he decide to overpower you.

This was your last chance to back out, before you’d be vulnerable to this odd stranger.

But even if you left, the money wouldn’t last long, and it’s not like you had any other options. 

You were so grateful that the motel tub wasn’t disgusting, but you would’ve gotten clean regardless. Two days worth of sweat and funk was washed away and it felt so heavenly… But it was hard to relax when you were trying to stay hyper alert of any noise that could be that man trying to get in or even eavesdrop.

But…

Nothing. 

You finished your shower and brushed your teeth, doing everything you could to feel clean that a motel bathroom could provide. And there was no sign of the guy. 

But you had to go back out there eventually. You supposed you could lock yourself in here and get a full night’s sleep indoors, even if it was on the floor of a motel bathroom with your back against the door, but part of you just said “fuck it” and warily peeked around the doorway into the bedroom.

The lights in the room were dim, but warm. He was sitting on the end of the bed, one knee tucked into his chest, staring at the tv as the bright colors of a nightly talk show reflected in his eyes, but something told you he wasn’t really watching. His eyes met yours and you froze.

“It’s almost eleven…” He mumbled, his head resting awkwardly on his shoulder. His hand ghosted over the spot on the bed next to him. “… Will... will you stay?”

So many thoughts raced through your head. What would happen if you laid down beside him? You could probably deal with sex… even if it felt a bit wrong. But if he wanted to hurt you?

Your brain reminded you:

What do you really have to lose?

When you told him you would stay, sitting next to him, you could see him relax. Just a bit.

“If you still want to leave-”

But you cut him off, almost afraid he would talk you out of it after you’d made up your mind.

Avoiding his stare, you told him you had nowhere to go.

The bed was cold, it might take a bit to warm up with the two of you in it, but it was the least of your concerns at that moment. 

“So it’s...” He’d spoken up so suddenly, you hoped he didn’t see you flinch. He was staring at the ceiling, seeming just a tiny bit calmer. “... it’s fine if you just… lay there or h-hold onto me, or play on your phone or whatever, anything is fine. Just… just don’t leave ‘til mornin’. Okay?”

A worrying pause, but you told him you understood.

And that was that. He laid next to you unmoving for almost an hour before you had the nerve to move at all, shifting slowly to your side to face him.

His eyes were shut, his breathing even, but somehow you knew he was still awake. It was like he was trying to sleep but it just wasn’t coming to him. He looked so worn down, like he could just keel over any second. It definitely made him less intimidating, but you weren’t letting your guard down, no matter how much your body was screaming at you to just let go.

Despite your better judgement, you wondered if he really was being genuine about this not being a sex thing. It was a relief, sure, but it just raised more questions.

Why were you here?

. . .

You’d stopped looking at the bedside clock a while ago. It had to have been hours by then.

Your anxiety and dread somehow felt quieter under the lull of impending sleep. Despite everything, your body was at least grateful for a warm bed and hot shower, and if you didn’t sleep there now, you didn’t know when you’d be able to sleep somewhere warm any time soon. 

Every moment that ticked by, you felt your resolve slipping. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, just to let go… This whole situation was weird, but you just wanted to sleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He hoped against everything that he would just fall asleep.

Just this once, he didn’t want to have to follow through with it. But he was so damn tired. There was this ache behind his eyes that he could feel in his bones, his mind never stopped racing… 

He could feel your body heat in the bed next to him. You had either been very scared or very considerate, you’d only moved once since you laid down with him. 

He hated that he had to do this. He felt sorry for you, he really did. But it was drowned out by the buzzing in the back of his brain. The constant whispers in his ear. 

There had been so many before now, it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten caught. But this was a huge, dangerous city. Everyone in it was just a blip to anyone paying attention. 

He could feel their skin under his palms buzzing at the back of his brain. How their eyes stared into his, burning with betrayal, fear, helplessness. How he saw them fade away.

How it was the only thing that worked to let him finally sleep. The only thing that quieted the whispers, at least for a little bit. 

Some booked it after getting the money. Some just showed up and straight-up robbed him. Some tried to leave in the middle of the night, thinking he was asleep. But if they stayed and fell asleep, that was that.

He told himself that he gave them all a chance. 

If you managed to stay up all night, you’d be safe. But he really needed this… It was already day three, and he’d never made it past day five without completely losing it. Trying to fight this, it was too hard. The longer he stayed awake, trying to avoid what had to happen, the worse he felt. The louder the voice got. The deeper the ache in his bones. But the more often he did it, the easier it got. And that was worse in a different way. 

It was wrong. He wasn’t so deep in it that he couldn’t see that. The morning after, he always hated himself and what he did. 

But as the days went on, it would all creep back in. And doing it again felt less and less horrifying to him. 

You were scared. He could tell. And you had every reason to be, he told himself. But it just meant it would take you longer to fall asleep. 

He could wait all night. And if you made it the full seven hours, you weren’t what he needed. You’d be free from him, from this. Hopefully you wouldn’t come back, no matter how badly you needed the money.

He wondered what you meant by having nowhere to go.

But he tried not to wonder too much. It would make this harder. 

He could hear your breathing getting slower, your body relaxing into the bed. You wouldn’t last much longer. 

His eyes shot open when he felt you suddenly touch him, tucking your forehead into his shoulder. You weren’t quite asleep, a cuddler? He almost laughed to himself when half-asleep you looked a bit frustrated, like it wasn’t enough.

You muttered something about being cold, lazily scooting your body closer to him up the bed. He felt his breath catch when suddenly, his head was pulled to you, tucked into your chest as your arm circled him. He was suddenly the little spoon, but facing you. He could hear your heartbeat. 

He wanted to say something, wake you up or wriggle free to make what he had to do easier on you when you fell asleep. He felt a hand in his hair, playing with it and idle gentle nails on his scalp. 

It was… nice. Everything felt calm, the buzzing and horrible thoughts were still there but they were being drowned out by the warmth of your skin, the thump of your heart in his ear.

You were mumbling something. He held his breath, trying to hear.

You told him, or whoever you were dreaming about, maybe even no one at all, that he was okay. That he was safe. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. Something was different this time. He felt all his control slipping away, and for once, he wasn’t scared. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You woke to a sunbeam across your face, and the strange man in your arms, sound asleep. According to your phone, it was 10 am. You were grateful for the extra hours in a warm bed, but would he be mad? Did he have somewhere to be?

You couldn’t remember anything past drifting off next to him, but the two of you were tangled together, he seemed so comfortable.

Now that it was over, and your anxieties were much quieter, you really got a good look at the guy. He wasn’t… unattractive, you supposed. He was all elbows and ribs but laying against your chest made him look so soft and harmless. 

Wasn’t the worst way you’d ever made 175 bucks.

You wondered if he’d shell out the extra 100, or if that would be pushing your luck. 

Either way, it would be best to wake him up.

Gently scratching at his scalp, you told him it was getting late.

You watched as his eyes struggled to open, and for a few calm moments, he just laid against you. After a beat, he gasped and jolted up, head swiveling around the room in a panic.

“I…” He seemed really out of it, almost scared. “I actually…”

He stared at you, eyes wide. You told him it was ten in the morning, hoping everything was okay and if it wasn’t, that he wouldn’t take it out on you.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, and for a moment you were sure something bad was going to happen, but somehow, it was even worse.

He was crying.

Breaking down, sobbing hard as he just kept staring at you. Even with the odd night you’d just had, this was somehow the weirdest part. 

Despite yourself, you asked him if he was okay. He pulled himself together and you were startled again when he touched your face, his thumb gently grazing your cheek. It was tender and sweet, and it was freaking you out a little. Just a tad. 

“You… It was you…”

All you could think to ask was if you should get going, maybe trying to make it seem like you had someplace to be, or were at least trying to be considerate of his time. But it didn’t seem like he was taking the hint. 

He grabbed your hands in his, the sudden contact made you jump. He pulled them to his chest, he was too close. The way he was looking at you…

“Can we… Can we do this again? Like tonight? Please?” He was practically begging, the look in his eyes changing. That nervous, achingly tired gaze was hopeful. And so warm.

“You can have the room, if that’s what you need!” he offered, maybe somehow having picked up on your current situation. “I can pay more too. Just p-please…”

He held your palm to his cheek, staring up at you.

“I need you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a bit of a different one from me, but i kind of liked how it turned out

that feeling when your new yandere was totally gonna off you but you were just too comfy

he's never gonna let you go. you're the only thing keepin him from killing again, ya know?

i don't have a ton of yanderes that actually kill, as odd as that seems. but this guy is one of them

he's not supposed to be a huge commentary on any particular mental health conditions, i did a bit of "research" into psychosis induced insomnia (using that term VERY loosely), but like does he hear voices because he can't sleep, or can he not sleep because he hears voices? who can say? certainly not I, the dummy who made him

i wrote this one pretty much right after my last big deadline ended, but it got reworked a bit cause it just needed some tweaks:

the yandere started out as tired but crass, kind of a dick, and when he switched after that good night's sleep it felt off. It felt more interesting if he was a bit pathetic and creepy, it felt like less of a red flag for the reader to stick around

the reader was originally going to be a straight up s*x worker that got hired by the yandere for him to kill, but it didn't really feel like my place to make that commentary on violence against s*x workers or to more or less soften it with a yandere love interest. it just didn't feel right for something so unserious

but ive been having horrible writer's block lately, so i thought i'd finally put this one out. i need to read/play some yandere stuff and get inspired. let me know if you have any recommendations y'all ✌️