#also i have no idea how any of these will end up looking

[requiemforthepoets]

Would you be interested in writing something for Oscar? I feel like he would be the perfect guy to have your firsts with, so understanding and cute like imagine having your first kiss with him. He would be so understanding and would kiss you with so much care and ugh I need me a man like him☹️ would you be down to write something like that?

in a world full of wrong, you’re the only thing that’s right 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: the idea of falling in love scares you, but at the same time, you long for it. wanting to experience how it feels like having someone by your side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: thank you for your request! i’m sorry that this one took days, i had already finished the original version of this one, but i was not happy with it so i scraped it off and decided to write a new one. i had also took some creative liberty if it’s alright with you. i hope that this one is up to your expectations. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, no use of y/n, traditional upbringing, reader is an only daughter, overthinking, anxiety, fear of falling in love, and some fluff

You had never been in a relationship before Oscar. In fact, you had no idea what being in love was even supposed to feel like at all. So when your friends came to you, venting about their partners or asking for some advice, you would just sit there, nodding along, and pretending to understand everything that they were saying. But the truth was that you were clueless. You had never experienced the ups and down that they spoke of. No fights over silly things, no making up with heartfelt apologies, no lingering fear of being left behind. Part of you had always wondered what it would feel like to have someone special, someone to lean on, but another part of you was terrified–utterly terrified of the vulnerability, terrified of the idea that maybe one day, that person you end up with could hurt you.

You had been raised in a traditional household, the kind where dating wasn’t just for fun, but that is meant to last with the intention of marriage. Your parents always told you to be very careful, that relationships were serious and sacred. It doesn’t help that you are an only child as well, so your parents can be really overprotective of you. So, when you found yourself daydreaming about having a boyfriend, the thought would always come with a sense of guilt. You’d see your friends with their partners and wish, even just for a second, that you could have that too. But then again, these fears would creep in–what if he cheated? What if he wasn’t who you thought he was? What if you weren’t enough? The doubts swirled around in your head constantly. But then, everything changed when you met Oscar.

You met him in a way that you never expected you would. It was during a vacation in Monaco with some friends. The week had been loud and chaotic–late night dinners, laughter, and a bit of madness here and there. Needing some peace and quiet, you decided to stroll around by yourself. The streets of Monaco were breathtaking, and you let yourself get lost in the gorgeous scenery, with your thoughts floating somewhere far away. So far that you didn’t even notice the guy speeding towards you on his bike. Before you knew it, he swerved, narrowly avoiding a collision, but you lost your balance and tumbled to the ground.

“Shit! Are you okay?” The voice was concerned but soft, and when you looked up, you saw a pair of worried eyes staring down at you. He had already jumped off his bike and was holding out his hand to help you up. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there,” Oscar said, pulling you to your feet gently. His touch was warm and cautious, as if he was afraid you’d break.

“No, no, I should have been paying attention,” you quickly brushed it off, though your heart was racing for more reasons than just the fall. Up close, he was…well, you weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline or something else, but he was strikingly handsome. You didn’t know if it was love at first sight or from the shock of falling, but something inside you shifted in that moment.

“You sure you’re okay? I feel terrible about this.” He frowned slightly, scanning you for any sign of injury. “Let me take you to a hospital, just in case.”

You laughed nervously. “I’m fine, really. There’s no need for that.”

He didn’t seem convinced at all, but after some insistence, Oscar backed off. “Alright, if you’re sure. At least let me make it up to you. How about some coffee? My treat.”

Well, that’s pretty much how it all began. One coffee turned into another, then into long conversations about everything and nothing. You couldn’t quite believe how easy it was to talk to him. Usually you’d find yourself nervous around guys, but he was kind, thoughtful, and never made you feel uncomfortable and pressured. Slowly, those coffee dates turned into something more, and before you know it, Oscar had asked you to be his girlfriend. Though you couldn’t help but cringe when you thought back to the moment you said yes to him. You had never been so flustered, unsure of how to respond, that instead of a kiss like a normal person, you just gave him a hug. A damn hug. You had felt his arms wrap around you tightly, his laughter vibrating in his chest.

“So I take it that it’s a yes, then?” he had asked, his voice teasing but soft.

You had nodded into his shoulder, very embarrassed beyond belief. But Oscar being Oscar, he didn't care. He hadn’t even brought it up afterwards, as if he’d expect nothing more than that simple embrace–and that’s what you loved about him. Oscar never pushed you, never made you feel like you always had to rush into anything. He was patient and understanding in a way that felt comforting. Sometimes, late at night, you would lie next to him, just staring at the ceiling, wondering how you got so lucky. The fears you once had, the doubts that plagued your mind–none of them seemed to matter anymore every time you are with him.

One evening, after spending the day together exploring the city, you found yourselves sitting on a park bench, watching the sunset. It was quiet, the kind of comfortable silence that you loved and felt like home.

“Do you ever wonder if this is all real?” you asked him, your voice barely above a whisper. Oscar turned to look at you, his expression gentle. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know…sometimes I just can’t believe this is happening. I never thought I’d be in a relationship like this. Felt overwhelming and surreal sometimes.” he smiled, reaching out to take your hand in his. “I get it. I never thought I’d meet someone like you either.”

You blushed at his words, feeling the warmth of his hand in yours. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, squeezing your hand lightly. “You don’t have to worry, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

At that moment, you knew. You knew very well that all the fears you once had, all the time you had spent overthinking and countless anxiety–they didn’t matter anymore. None of it matters anymore. With Oscar, you felt safe, loved, and secured in a way you had never imagined. He wasn’t just your first boyfriend, he was your first in everything–the first person to show you what love really felt like.

Six months into your relationship with Oscar, you had managed to avoid what most people would consider a natural part of being a couple–kissing him on the lips. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, hell you definitely do want to kiss him so badly, to the point you had daydreamed about it plenty of times, thinking about how his lips might feel against yours. But every time you thought about it, your mind would spin, and your nerves would take over. You’d never kissed anyone before, and the idea of messing up, of completely not knowing what to do, terrified the shit out of you. Sure, you had kissed him on the cheeks, hugged him endlessly, but never once had your lips touched his. You couldn’t help but wonder how Oscar was so patient with you, how he never complained or pushed for more, he was very understanding in a way that made you feel safe. Sometimes, you even questioned how he could be satisfied or survived with just a few cheek kisses.

Yes, you had been raised in such a traditional household, but Oscar was special–so incredibly special–that the pressure you put on yourself to make the moment perfect felt overwhelming. Still, you knew that at some point, you’d have to gather the courage to just do it. But every time you tried to psych yourself up, you’d just freeze, thinking about it drove you crazy. There would be times where you’d hear people joke about you being a prude, or wonder aloud how anyone could go long without kissing their partner on the lips, but the truth was, you were just terrified.

Then came Baku. It was Oscar’s second win at the Baku Grand Prix, and you had traveled to the race with his family to cheer him on. The excitement in the air was evident as you stood by the barricades at the Parc Fermé, anxiously waiting for him to climb out of his car. Your heart raced as you watched him pull into the P1 space, his car coming to a stop, and pulled himself out of the cockpit.

Your heart nearly stopped when he stumbled slightly as he got on the top of his car, and you had to suppress the urge to vault over the barrier to make sure he was okay. But Oscar quickly steadied himself, he then pulled off his helmet and balaclava in one smooth motion, his hair a sweaty mess, but his eyes bright with victory. Oscar spotted you instantly, a wide grin breaking out across his face as he ran quickly towards you, and before you knew it, you were wrapped up in his arms. You held him tightly, feeling the energy and adrenaline coursing through him as he hugged you back.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered against his shoulder, the words almost lost in the noise of the crowd. “You were incredible.”

Oscar pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands finding their place gently on your cheeks. His thumb brushed your skin softly, and for a brief moment, the noise of the world around you seemed to fade away. He gazed at you with so much love in his eyes, the kind that made your heart flutter. Oscar had always been patient, understanding, never once pressuring you into anything you weren’t ready for. He knew about your fears, about how you hadn’t had your first kiss yet, but you had never told him why. Even without knowing the full reason, he had always respected your space and waited for you to feel comfortable.

But something was different today. The way he looked at you was different, and you felt it too–a shift inside you, a calmness you hadn’t expected. You weren’t scared at this moment, not with him. Somehow, Oscar seemed to sense that change too. He smiled softly, his hands still cradling your face as he leaned in just slightly.

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, giving you the chance to back out if you needed to.

Your heart raced in your chest, feeling like it was gonna leap out from your chest, but for the first time in months, it wasn’t out of fear. It was out of love, out of excitement, out of knowing that this was the moment. You smiled up at him, nodding gently. That was all he needed.

Oscar’s touch remained as gentle as ever, his hands caressing your face as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. It was familiar, comforting, something he’d done a thousand times before. Then, he kissed the tip of your nose, making you giggle softly, your nerves starting to melt away. Then finally, he leaned down and kissed you on the lips.

The world seemed to stop as his lips met yours, soft and warm, and everything you had feared about this moment vanished. It wasn’t awkward or overwhelming like you had imagined–it was simple, perfect. Oscar kissed you gently, not rushing, not pushing for more than you were ready for. It was the kind of kiss that made you feel safe, like he was letting you know that this was just the beginning, and there was no need to rush. When he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested against yours, both of you smiling softly, sharing a private moment amidst the chaos of the race celebrations around you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Oscar teased you lightly, his voice warm and full of affection. You laughed softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I guess not,” you whispered, hands still resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Oscar smiled, kissing your forehead again, and you knew in that moment that no matter how scared you had been before, being with him made everything feel right.

Later that evening, after all the chaos of the podium celebrations, press interviews, and flood of congratulatory messages, you found yourself in a much quieter setting with Oscar and his family. The energy from the race still buzzed in the air, but there was a sense of calm now, a comfortable warmth that filled the room as you all gathered around for a private celebration. You felt so at home with his family, like you were part of the family, and in moments like these, you couldn’t help but think of how lucky you were to have Oscar and this incredible group of people who treated you with so much love.

Dinner was simple but perfect, the conversation flowing easily between stories of the race and light-hearted teasing. You were sitting beside Oscar, with your hand resting comfortably under the table, something that felt so natural now, like an unspoken connection between the two of you. He would glance over at you every now and then, giving you that boyish smile that made your heart skip a beat every time. The moment you shared earlier at the track still lingered in your mind–your first kiss. It felt surreal, but in the best way possible.

After the dinner, Oscar had asked if he can spend the remainder of the night with you alone, to have some private moment. His family agreed and a few teasing had been made as well, but you and Oscar just laughed. By then, you decided to return to the hotel, to have some private and alone time with each other. Oscar sat beside you on the couch, his arms draped casually around your shoulders, pulling you close. His fingers played lightly with a strand of your hair as you leaned into him, your head resting on his chest. The bustling noise of the city seemed to fade into the background as you focused on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath you.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about that kiss all night,” Oscar whispered suddenly, his voice low so only you could hear him. Your cheeks flushed, and you turned slightly to look up at him, your lips curling into a shy smile. “Yeah? What about our kiss?”

He grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. “It was worth the wait. I’ve been waiting for that moment since the day I met you. Being it during my win made it more special.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully, though the butterflies in your stomach refused to settle. “You’re just saying that.” Oscar chuckled softly, his thumb brushing gently over your shoulder. “I’m serious. I’m not sure you realize how patient I’ve had to be. But you’re worth every second.”

You felt your heart was about to combust at his words, and you felt yourself melt a little more into his side. There was something about the way Oscar always knew how to make you feel special, how he could say the simplest things and make you feel like the most important person in the world.

You smiled up at him, your voice soft as you said, “I’m really glad it was you. I’ve always been scared of what it would be like, but you made it…perfect.”

Oscar’s expression softened, his eyes full of that warmth and affection you had come to adore. “That’s all I wanted. For it to feel right for you.” Leaning up slightly, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, feeling a surge of affection as you did so. “Thank you for waiting.”

“I’d wait a lifetime for you if I had to.” he smiled, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

For the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own)

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Dynamight agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[mixedupmojo]

Weird isekai idea that I had that I just wanted to realise into the wild.

Ok so you know how there are multiple stories out there about reader getting transported into the world of journey to the west and then ending up tagging along as the pilgrims make their way west. Here's the thing most of the time these story's take place once the group has already been assembled or the reader ends up meeting Tripitaka first.

So here's the thought what if reader meets Wukong before the group has a chance to get together. Let me explain.

So imagine reader has just arrived in a strange new world and they have absolutely no clue where they are or how they got there and are freaking out really badly. So they start calling out to see if there is anyone nearby that can help them and after a good few minutes of wandering around and shouting for help they suddenly get a reply. Relived they rush towards the voice, only to find that the person that was calling to them wasn't a person but a monkey that looks to be trapped within the rock of a mountain. And it only takes them a second to realise that this isn't just any monkey but thee monkey, the monkey king, Sun Wukong himself and somehow they've been transported into the story of journey to the west. Their internal crisis soon gets interrupted as Wukong starts asking if they wouldn't mind helping him out with his situation. Knowing the story not to mention what Wukong's capable of they immediately disagree much to Wukong's outrage. At Wukongs outburst they go to leave but that’s when they realise that they still have no clue where they are and what's worse no idea who could help them except for maybe Tripitaka so they resolve to wait for him much to Wukong confusion. Realising that it might not be a good idea to tell him that they are not exactly from this world they stick with the hopelessly lost excuse. which Wukong responds with that he would be happy to help them out if they let him out which is an obvious no so things quickly devolve into a stale mate.

Days go by and they end up talking a lot, with Wukong casually trying to convince them to take off the seal every now and then and them always refusing. But as the days go by the more anxious and worried reader gets after all they have no idea at what point in the story they are and it could very well be a hundred year before Tripitaka will eventually show up. Food and shelter are also a worry as they've managed to get by due to it being summer and there is plenty to forage and a small cave nearby that they've been using for shelter but they know it won't last forever. but most of all they really, really want to go home they miss their family their friends they miss their life. More time goes by and day by day reader and Wukong bond even more to the point where the monkey king has actually grow quite fond of them and cares quite a lot to the point that he starts helping them out in what little ways he can. He even stops constantly trying to get them to remove the seal on the mountain only occasionally asking every now and then and its usually only after he see them struggling, instead he's taking the time to ask them about themselves and find out more about them and in return he tell them about himself usually stories of his glory days. eventually they come clean about the fact that they are not from this world and how they have no idea how they got here or how to get home, breaking down a bit as Wukong resolves to help in any way he can. Then one day it happens completely unprompted reader suddenly get up and start walking away at first Wukong doesn't think anything of it as they often leave to look for food and other such things but as the hours go by and they've yet to come back Wukong starts to worry think that something bad might have happened to them before he gets the horrible thought that they might have just finally got sick of waiting and left him. Stewing in his thought the monkey king slowly growing more and more enrage and heartbroken at the potential betrayal. when suddenly he can feel it, he can feel the mountain shift and he realise what they have done. It's after another few hours pass that he hears them running down the mountain catching a quick sight of them as they run past him. it doesn't take him long to realise that they are getting a safe distance away and he waits a few more hours before he finally breaks free. Meanwhile your despriatly trying to catch your breath as you watch the entire mountain explode chunks of rock flying in all directions and your barely able to make out a reddish orange blur coming towards you before your enveloped in a bone crushing hug.

Thus beings their own journey to find a way to get reader home.

I dunno I just really like the idea of Guanyin or Tripitaka turning up and Wukong not being there and all of haven freaking out because the monkey king is on the loose and no one has any idea where he is.

[yunniestars]

"maybe this time, love won't end."

. . . ACT IV. "Oh No, I'm Falling In Love." ʚɞ pairing: kinich x gn!reader ʚɞ cw: kind of short sorry, mostly fluff hehe, reader is shit at cooking

"sorry..." you dry his hair off using a towel as you apologize. "to be fair, it started to rain heavily, too. so it would've saved you from being sick."

"it's fine," kinich responds as he mesmerize over how your hands knead his hair with tender. "i would've said yes either way. but you really didn't had to headlock me like that," he frowns which erupts a giggle from you.

"i literally never seen you make that face. i should do it more often." he scoffs at your suggestion.

even with such childish banter, kinich feels so much warmth from what was happening at the moment. the loud and thunderous rain contrasted the comforting laughter from the both of you. it reminded him of how you'd tend to his wounds when he came home from a commission that made him end up in a bunch of bruises.

this very moment felt like one of them, however he knew it wasn't the same.

the love and affection he felt, though, remained.

suddenly, he felt something caress his hair. and it wasn't a towel.

"hmm?" kinich feels your hand on top of his hair, which surprised him. "what are you doing?"

"feeling your hair. it's so soft," you tell him as you bask into the softness of the strands. "seriously, how do you have better hair than me? it's so annoying," you sounded a pout which made him chuckle.

"maybe it's because you're the one taking care of it."

୨୧

time ticks down and before the both of you knew it, the hour of supper had arrived.

kinich would expect that it would've been domestic, cozy and full of laughter. he thought that it'd be a simple moment of peace with shared fondness.

boy he was so wrong. because apparently alongside your memories, your amnesia also caused you to forget your ability how to cook -- or more like, you have no idea how to measure things and the portions you pour in the dish ends up altering the taste completely.

"oh my archons- i said SALT."

"THAT'S SALT YOU DUM-DUM."

"look at the label closely, and it says 'sugar'."

"oh."

it was rare for kinich to get verbally upset, but this very moment had him wanting to throw punches at you and toss you from the very top of tectipac peak. he tries his very best to not show his frustration and be patient but oh goodness gracious of all archons you were stubborn.

"kinich! how much soup do i pour in?" you ask but even though you did, your hand had a mind of its own and poured a lot of soup on the bowl which could only take half of the amount you poured on, which ultimately led you to dropping the bowl and a loud yelp from you.

kinich immediately stopped what he was doing and immediately ran up to you, caressing your burnt hand while bringing you to a place away from the shards of glass.

"are you okay? how bad does it hurt?" he asks while checking for any bruises.

"a little..." you responded while feeling a bit faint from the altercation that just happened. kinich sighed and carried you to your couch, gently laying you on top of there.

"stay," he instructs while he goes off to grab your first-aid kit. you were confused on how he already knew where it was placed, but perhaps it's due to the amount of times he crashed in your place.

besides everything, though, you felt your heart thump at how he'd take such good care of you. even though you were stupid to pour an unreasonable amount of soup in the cup, he never insulted you and just immediately came to your aid. it felt nice, considering how you'd always get called out for being clumsy when you still lived with your family.

it wasn't just that, though. the way he'd gently hold you felt like you just fit right in his arms. is it platonic to say that being your friend's arms felt like home? because that's exactly how you felt.

you were used to how boyfriend-material kinich would be but goddamn it still made your heart skip a beat each time.

then again, he said it's how he treated his friends in general, so did you really have any right to feel like that?

after a time of thinking, he soon comes back with the first-aid kit in his hands and kneels in front of you, grabbing that injured hand onto his immediately to treat it.

"so reckless... you just do whatever you want, huh?" he huffs while applying ointment on your burn.

"i'm sorry," you apologize, feeling a lot of guilt while refusing to look at him.

"for?"

"for being clumsy and... not being a good host."

"host?" kinich raises a brow and remembers the main reason how he winded up in your abode. "ah, you don't need to apologize for any of that." "but-"

"but what? no matter the amount of apologizes you utter to me, you'll still do the same thing ever again, and i would be a fool to repeatedly tell you that it's 'okay'," he chuckles lightly and touches your bandaged hand. "i treasure you a lot, so i'm willing to put up with your antics."

ah fuck.

you feel yourself burning up at your words, while also feeling tears well up in your eyes. "i mean that much to you?"

"of course."

you smile and look at him with a gaze you'd only ever show to him. "well, i feel the same."

୨୧

a few hours after eating and cleaning up, the rain hasn't still gone away which led up to the reason why he's staying at your home overnight for the time-being.

"i'm going to sleep at the couch," kinich says, about to tell you good night until you beat him to it.

"no, you're sleeping in my bed," you refute. "you're the guest, i should be the one sleeping on the couch."

kinich sighs and crosses his arms. "well, looks like this is another argument i can't wait, so how about this -- we share a bed."

the idea made you blush. even though kinich looked nonchalant on the surface, deep down he was pulling his own hair for saying such crass things. now he felt kind of like some creep for saying it.

"sorry, i shouldn't have said anything," he apologizes, wanting to break the awkward tension. but you just shake your head and drag him on your bed.

"it's fine. we can share," you fiddle your hands together.

oh. well... that definitely surprised him.

"what? are you sure? i just suggested it because i didn't want you to sleep on the couch and i know you're going to force me to sleep on your bed so..." he trails off and you just put your index finger on his lip, which immediately shuts him up.

"if i say we can share, then we can. okay?" you huff and place your finger back down, leaving him to no choice (even though he really liked the idea). "

and so, you two end up sharing the same comforter. surprisingly, kinich ended up falling asleep real fast. after all, you did notice how exhausted he looked even before the two of you got soaked by the cold rain.

you smile and stop any urges to go and caress his face. you notice his long lashes, the marking on his neck, and of course your favorite part of him, how soft his hair looked. even while sleeping, he looked so undoubtedly beautiful that you'd think about what it'd be like if you kissed him- woah there.

kisses?

beautiful?

you notice how you used such words towards him, ones that only couples would ever refer to each other. but can you blame yourself? he was so full of love, giving you attention when you barely ask for it, doing things that you'd only let him do to you.

the more you think of it, more the realization finally dawns upon you...

you were in love.

୨୧ act iii | act v ୨୧ masterlist

♡ tags: @lvvcian @sunsethw4 @wutap @gasoline-eater @ellieloverrr @romyoia @lunavixia @hipsdofangirl @3lectraheart @keiiqq @fantasyhopperhea @idontevenknow129 @kimura-uzuri

a/n: finally!! ive been wanting to finish this chapter ive had the idea since act 3 but i am so sorry for not updating a lot as of late!! :( ive been preparing for lots and lots of projects + exams r coming up. not sure if i can keep on updating consistently, but most likely when exams end and also during our club week hehe. thank u so much for being patient :')

[blueteller]

Do you know how smart Cale actually is? Like- what extent his intelligence can reach?

That's an interesting question! Let's take a look.

From what I know of IQ scores, anything above 120 puts you in top 10% of the population. So I easily see Kim Rok Soo!Cale belonging in that category; of >120 IQ. However, IQ had always felt a little vague to me. It's nice to have a number to put on a scale and all, but what does it actually mean in reality? Let's try this from a different angle.

Gardner's Multiple Intelligences model of divides talent into eight categories, plus one additional one:

Visual-spatial

Linguistic-verbal

Logical-mathematical

Body-kinesthetic

Musical

Interpersonal

Intrapersonal

Naturalistic

Existential

Why not try to measure him up against each one, as no person is actually intelligent in every way and not even a fictional character can excel in all of them (unless they're a Mary Sue or something lol).

Visual and spatial judgment stands for easy reading, writing, puzzles solving, recognizing patterns and analyzing charts well. I think Cale is definitely a pro in this category; he does loves reading and he's fantastic at analyzing data.

Linguistic-verbal is for remember written and spoken information, debates, giving persuasive speeches, ability to explain things and skilled at verbal humor. And while I constantly make fun of Cale for not being able to explain himself, he IS good at using the "glib tongue" and being persuasive, so I think he is very skilled in this category as well.

Logical-mathematical means having excellent problem-solving skills, the ability to come up with abstract ideas and conduct scientific experiments, as well as computing complex issues. Cale is an incredible strategist able to change his plans in an instant, so he is definitely a genius in this field.

Bodily-Kinesthetic Intelligence is a fun one, because I think it's the hardest one to judge, considering that he literally changed bodies. It of course stands for sports, dancing, craftmanship, physical coordination, and remembering better by practice rather than learning theory. Cale... does not like that. However, it doesn't mean he's BAD at it. If he was a genius in this field, however, I believe he would like it a bit more. Thus – I suspect he was average. In the past he was forced to exercise for the sake of survival, but once he was given the option of taking it easy, he quit instantly. He is capable, but does not have any particular predisposition for it.

Musical Intelligence drives me nuts, because we literally do not know, and I dearly wish I did. There was not a single mention of it in the whole series. As much as I want to believe in a cool headcanon of KRS being an unrealized musical genius... I think he was probably average or below average in this.

Interpersonal Intelligence stands for communication, conflict-solving, perception and the ability to forge connections with others. And while you might have some doubts about Cale, I say he IS a total pro in this. Those are all leadership skills, and Cale is one HELL of a great leader.

However...

Intrapersonal Intelligence is where Cale is severely lacking. It could be partially due to trauma, but I think at least some of it comes through his natural personality. It stands for introspection, self-reflection, the ability to understand one's motivation and general self-awareness; and that is Cale's biggest weakness, one that might actually cost him his slacker life dream in the end, due to all the misunderstandings he causes.

The last two, Naturalistic and Existential Intelligence types, are also not really Cale's forte. The first is for things like botany, biology, and zoology, paired with enjoyment of camping and hiking – none of which Cale actually does for pleasure, only because he has to. And yeah, farming is in that category too, but it's not like Cale is actually a real farmer just yet. And the second is for stuff like philosophy, considering how current actions influence future outcomes, the ability to see situations from an outside perspective and reflections into the meaning of life and death – and Cale is REALLY not interested in this type of self reflection.

Which leaves Cale with 4 types of intelligence he excels at, 2 which he is REALLY BAD at, 1 where he's below average and 1 he's probably average, with 1 left completely unknown.

Does this make Cale a genius? Pretty much, yes. Does it also make him stupid in very specific ways? VERY MUCH, YES.

[metranart]

My one and only wants you, so he’ll have you (Part 11)

ft. Sensei! Gojo Satoru, sensei! Suguru Geto, reader insert, slight! Megumi x reader.

Gojo Satoru and Suguru Geto happily married, you, their lovely student and the cause of their ragging temptation. The problem: their son, Megumi, your best friend.

𖦹 Warning tags: Gojo x Reader x Geto, threesome, married couple, Suguru and Gojo happy married couple, polyamory, Teacher-Student Relationship (everyone is an adult).

-

It was Suguru’s lips colliding with his that brought him out of that toxic trance, Suguru used his last weapon, the most lethal he had. Gojo melted against him, unable to hold that track of selfish thoughts, instead giving all his attention to his husband's lips, his hand ended up sliding from the knob and Geto smiled against his mouth, pecking those pouting lips a couple of times before smashing a hard kiss on his forehead and sending him a disapproving look. The white-haired man shrugged like a scolded child. He almost ruined it... almost.

“I’m not sure if we are there yet, Gumi…” You mewled timidly. But he needed to fight for his right to have you, Megumi was burning to be yours, literally burning, he could not think straight anymore, you were all he thought about nowadays, you and him, just that. 

You'd only been together for a two month, and you hadn't been intimate yet, maybe some fooling around, here and there, some make out and touching— you'd jerked him off and he'd fingered your pussy after a stressful mission but that was as far as you two had gone... you couldn't find it in you to end the transaction, not when you were terrified of confusing his name with one of his parents. Not when Gojo and Geto had given you an ultimatum. Not when even now they were likely listening in from the other side of the door, if you judged by the shadows you had seen under the door, discreet enough to go unnoticed by your distracted boyfriend who prioritized his attention on you, but undoubtedly blatantly indiscreet enough for you to know and strive to keep your promise.

Nor Gojo nor Geto had been happy about your new relationship with their son but when you explained Sukuna's sudden appearance and your inability to go any other way, they understood, reluctantly… but they understood.

"Not under our roof." Suguru had spat severely, "NEVER under our roof, (Y/N) ... or I'm not responsible for my actions." With that, he spined on his heels with more sharpness that it was necessary and walked away to smoke a cigarette in solitude. His silhouette, the clear posture of an annoyed, irritated and highly conflicted, man.

Leaving behind a very guilty sorceress and a very shaken husband. You sucked in a shaky breath and the lone tear that ebbed the corner of your eye was quickly whipped away before it could even roll down your cheek. 

"Oh, my sweet pup, don’t cry,” Gojo spelled sweetly, burying you in a bear hug “this is all my fault, I should never have—”

“Don’t!” you squealed, “don’t even think about it. I wanted to!... I still DO.”

You felt his lips press a kiss on the crown of your head, to then hear the sigh of relief. “Thank God,” he chuckled, “I feel lighter already. Thank you.”

You opted to stay inside his warmness, the silence was comfortable, nevertheless, was also brief.

“I know you didn't have a choice and the last thing I want is for you to hurt Megumi," Gojo wanted the best for his son, but also for himself. He wanted you so bad, it physically hurt him. His knuckles sliding down the softness of your cheek, slowly, so slowly, felt more like if he was sewing the texture of your skin to his brain. That blue, shiny gaze firm on yours. Searching your stare insistently. Stare that refused to meet his, out of embarrassment. 

"Look at me, (Y/N).” Gojo demanded in a calm tone which quickly grew sharp. “You owe me that much-"

"Y-You have no idea how hard this is for me as well!"

Your outburst was cancelled by his arm getting tighter around you, burying you deeper into his chest, your nose dug hard against his shirt to inhale his fragrance, smelling Gojo always calmed you down, it was one of his many gifts. He smelled safe, if that was even possible, everything about Gojo Satoru made you feel safe. You melted on him, and he smiled against your hair.

"You miss us?" It wasn’t a question, it sounded like one, but it wasn’t.

Your head nodded against his broad chest, and his hug tightened even more. Tight, so tight it should hurt but it didn’t. Gojo’s fingers began to make circles on your back. Massaging the tension away with tender motions, melting the anguish in you with his tireless compression.

"We miss you so damn much, that's why Suguru is so-" his eyes shifted to the aforementioned, who was already on his third cigarette, "-is so upset."

"With me?"

You felt how deep his sigh were, when his chest rose against your cheek.

"I'm afraid, he doesn't know how to be upset with Megumi, pretty. He adores him way too much-…So, you'll have to put up with his bad mood for a while," he laughed but not the merry sound you loved. Then, he kissed each request against your forehead, soft and warm kisses filled with tender pleading, "...please, please don't judge him for his behavior. Suguru isn't good at sharing-"

Your head whipped up to look at him, and he chuckled. "He's not good at sharing with anyone but me."

You giggled, returning to your original position. No! a little close, if that was possible. "Now what?" your lips asked, afraid of the answer.

"We’ll figure it out and while we do it..." Gojo felt conflicted, even so, there was one thing he already knew he wanted from you. Warm palms dug thick thumbs under the curve of your jaw to help him tilt your head up for some needed eye contact. Once your eyes met, Gojo’s understanding look faded away and his reverent grin turned icy "...don't let Megumi fuck you." All tenderness melted away, and he repeated, "... promise me, (Y/N), you won't sleep with him until we know how to handle this."

You promised.

"I'm afraid that's NOT enough." 

It startled you. Suguru Geto, standing behind you, he dropped the last of his cigarette to the ground and step on it, those onyx orbs he called eyes, black and devoid of any kind emotion, were kinda shocking but what shocked you the most was what ended up coming out of his mouth. 

"Let's do a binding bow-"

"Suguru—" 

Gojo started but was quickly stopped by his husband with hard squeeze to his shoulder, it carried a hidden message, something only Gojo could appreciate: ‘let me be the irrational for once’- Gojo fell silent. 

“I already promised to-”

Geto denying his head cut you short.

"It doesn't really make any difference-…but the binding bow, that will actually make you keep your promise."

"Don't you trust me anymore, Suguru?" It was easy to detect the touch of indignation in your voice. Abruptly, you pulled yourself out of Gojo's arms to stare at Suguru with a hint of defiance. "Don't you-"

"I'm not going to let Megumi get hurt, DAMN IT!" The special grade sorcerer bellowed, rushing to you until were face to face. “Over my death body,” he threatened, your mouth scrunched up, a complaint about to come out before being cut off by him. “No, it’s not what you think either,” Geto added, quickly. “I don’t plan on losing you either. You are not going anywhere…”

You had never seen him so visceral, so emotional. Gojo was the creature full of fragile feelings, not Suguru, but apparently you had gotten under his skin, deeper than he had even anticipated. 

“You are mine-...Ours,” he corrected and Gojo chuckled, shaking his head, amused “...if you and Megumi start getting intimate it will only complicate everything.” The raven-haired insisted, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you closer to him, “the binding bow will prevent this.”

“How? I don’t see how-”

“Just grant me this, (Y/N).” He pleaded, grabbing you by the forearms, desperate, crazed, "...I'm dying here, just grant me this, I trust you...but even though I love my Megumi more than my own life," now, you felt your cheeks being wrap in his warm, big hands, "I don't trust him, at least not with you. I know how he feels and after all, he is our son."

Suguru didn't have to explain any further, Gojo supported him, and you ended up, accepting. How right he was, how much Megumi resembled his adoptive parents. Because right now, he refused to accept a negative.

"Is that a, no? you don’t want us to—” he asked, a taciturn emotion kidnapping his features, and the hurt in his eyes made you feel sick to your stomach, you were weak for this entire family, to some more than other, even so, they all have a part of your heart.  

“I do-”

“You do?”

Megumi's eyes sparkled, filled with renewed hope and his parents felt a lump in their throats. Fushiguro climbed on top of you, slow and cat-like, you crawled back until your head hit the headboard of his bed and he laughed amused, excited, hands equally excited sliding down the length of your legs, you could almost hear him purr.

If there was one thing you loved about him, it was the difference that did exist between him and his parents. His shy essence was unbreakable, making him a tender and dedicated creature even in movements predestined to be abrupt. He accommodated you under him prioritizing your comfort over his own, he would have to put more tension on his body, but it was worth it if you were happy.

"Gumi-" you mewled, and he swallowed your next complaint with thirsty lips and slippery tongue. "Just let me show you, (Y/N)," you heard him mumble against your neck, "I know I can also make you happy."

Also?... you didn't dare to delve into that comment, it sounded too desperate, coming from a place deep inside Megumi, a secret and intimate place.

It was just a whisper, but it sounded like a scream to Gojo and Geto, like a bullet going through their selfish hearts, really, they wouldn't give this pleasure to Megumi? Were they really that self-absorbed? They both turned to look at each other and after a few seconds, you saw the shadow under the door disappear completely.

"Is something wrong?" the brunette asked when he noticed you distracted, and you shook your head. Yes, there was a problem, but it wasn't Megumi's problem.

“Nop, babe.” 

Megumi tugged you forward-or maybe he'd lunged toward you of his own accord, he loved when you tagged him as you ‘babe’—and just like that, you were kissing with the fervor and passion of touch-starved souls all pent-up repression and stress, released in a single instant. The force of the collision, lips on lips, tongue against tongue, was deliciously bruising, enough to knock the breath out of you. 

Megumi gasped your name, smearing each syllable in saliva and praises, overly excited, wondering if only him was feeling that cord of electricity running through his veins, fiery adrenaline coursing through his body, blood pounding in his ears as a shiver ran down his spine, so powerful that he thought he might collapse on top of you.

Each effort of Megumi making you let yourself go more, letting you mind fly free, maybe too free to your own good. Your hands tangled in his hair in an instant, pulling him even closer, even harder against your lips as your excitement soaked your panties.

���…. May I have a taste, (Y/N)?”

You had half a second to entertain the request of your boyfriend, before he asked again, just sweeter. 

“One lick or two,” those were the last words you thought you'd hear coming from Megumi, "I just want to put my mouth down there for a minute, please, my love-... may I?" 

His lips quickly came in aid to his goal, eating your neck in sloppy but awfully well-planned kisses, bites and licks, a joint effort to weaken your reason. It was slowly working. Pressing back with his tongue even as a moan began to well up in his chest, “P-Please?

You squealed, a sign of your upcoming defeat. He used that weakness to pull your bodies together for an instant of pressure that sent fireworks off all across your skin. A sensation that you had only experienced with Gojo and Geto, confusing your mind with sparks of recognition, men who were not there felt present in each caress that their son executed without fail.

You surrender to his wholehearted efforts, it was too much, too vivid. Megumi had shown his claws, and they were sharp, going deep, deeper than you ever expected. Sharp in need, tearing you apart like a ragged doll. Your lips parted and the affirmative he so craved was about to pour out-

Knock! Knock! Knock!

COMING SOON PART 12....

➡️ NSFW ARTWORK OF THIS STORY

[cosmerelists]

Renarin Ranks Starting Places For New Readers of the Cosmere Series

"Renarin ranks something" requested by @themoonstonechronicler :)

Fans often argue about where new readers should start in the Cosmere: which book is the best starting place? In this list, Renarin will rank various options. Because if any character can break the fourth wall, it's either Hoid (of course) or Renarin with his funky corrupted Future Sight.

[Contains Stormlight Spoilers through Rhythm of War!]

1. Way of Kings

"Starting with Way of Kings is like jumping into a 4 versus 1 Shardblade duel armed with a sword that screams when you touch it after a lifetime of not really being allowed to train in real combat scenarios due to your blood weakness. Will you be in over your head? Yes. Might the experience harm you? Very possibly. Will Kaladin's presence save you? Absolutely. Is it a bad idea? Objectively yes. BUT does this choice make you inherently cool? I think so. At least, I have no regrets."

...

"Make that very few regrets."

"I give this an 8/10."

2. Elantris

"Listen...I get it. You want to start from the beginning. Proceed chronologically. I think my cousin Jasnah would be inclined toward this. But speaking as a 'funky time guy,' as Adolin called me once, I have to say that the past doesn't necessarily predict the future and uh...this one just might be a little tough to start with. In my opinion."

"4/10."

3. Tress of the Emerald Sea

"I think...I think I like Wit. Mostly. There was that one time he tried to make everyone think I was hooking up with, like, multiple women at once, which was...weird. But he also made fun of me. Which does not sound good, but it meant he respected me in a Wit way. In any event, this book is like sitting and listening to Wit for hours. Is it good if that is the first thing you ever do? Maybe? The little rat is cute."

"9/10."

4. Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

"This one is Wit too. Just to get that out of the way. And I think it might be a little bit confusing for a first-time reader since it is clearly being told to a Rosharan, which is not something a new reader would understand."

"But on the other hand, it is maybe...refreshing to have a main character who hasn't yet realized what he's good at, and another main character who hasn't yet realized that not all aspects of her religion should restrict her as much as they do."

"So a confusing place to start, but not necessarily a bad one."

"6/10."

5. The Emperor's Soul

"This one is short! That might be good for someone who is looking for less of a commitment. Plus, it involves a lot of research into how things work, if that appeals to you. But I think the real benefit is that if someone is reading it to you, it would probably only take a few hours."

"10/10."

6. The Sunlit Man

"This book is like seeing into the future, since it is literally about the future. It's also very painful. Which, in my experience, the future often is. The future can be changed...but not in this case, because now it's written down. So I would say: start here at your own risk. On the other hand, it will probably seem less sad if you read it without any backstory. But it will make other things sadder later, trust me."

"3/10."

7. White Sand

"This one can be good if you're a man, since there are a lot of pictures. There are also a lot of words, of course, but if you're just starting out on the reading thing, then having the pictures would help a lot I'd imagine."

"6/10."

8. Warbreaker

"Speaking as someone who...well, I can't say that I deliberately make dramatic reveals, but I have been known to do things like scrawl warnings on a wall or appear suddenly from the shadows or, you know, stuff like that. So I might actually recommend reading this before you read our books, just so you can have those, 'Wait, it's YOU!' moments over and over again."

"Seriously, why did so many of those characters end up in our series?"

"I'm not answering the question, though. This one is standalone, and not too long, yet still manages to have a pretty big cast of characters and a bunch of storylines. It is like Sanderson training."

"8/10."

9. The Final Empire

"This is what everyone always tells you to do. Sometimes it can get frustrating when everyone is SO SURE that they know what's good for you, especially your dad, who won't listen when you tell him that you don't want to become an ardent even though he thinks it's the best. And you know what? In the end, I am a fighter, but also a scholar, since men can do both now. So sometimes what people say is good, but only when it happens in the way you want it to and...I think I lost the thread. Um. You can do what people tell you that you should do IF you want to. "

"If you start here, I imagine you'll like it. Sometimes what everyone tells you to do is a good idea...but only if it's what you want too."

"9/10."

10. The Alloy of Law

"Starting with Mistborn Era 2 is like bonding a corrupt spren. It's almost what everyone agrees is a good thing to do (start with Mistborn / bond a spren), only you're going about it in a...different way. But different is not necessarily bad! Yes, I have abilities that are maybe from Odium and that give me a maybe sacrilegious ability to foretell the future...but when given the chance, I immediately recommended my best friend do the same thing."

"Being different can be good. 7/10."

[merilaurecus]

Companions reactions to finding out Modern!Tav can't return to Earth and is stuck in Faerûn for good

This was on my mind for a while. It's post-game, a while after the defeat of the Netherbrain but before the reunion party. The group is still together.

Gale (Professor Dekarios ending)

Already thinking about a spell that actually can do it.

Can't help but feel a little hopeless when even Elminster said it's not possible.

But this man won't give up until he really runs out of options (ambition™️).

One of the few companions that can offer you a place to stay.

Also will offer a hug or an evening together (certified Gale girlie here, if that was me I'd probably confess to him; not that night because I'd be too overwhelmed with leaving what I knew behind, but the next night I'd be like "fuck it, I had a feelings for him before anyway, might as well").

Compassionate and understanding, though he'd try to be around to make sure you are doing well enough not to do anything stupid (yes, I mean the worst option here beginning with the letter S).

Meal cooked with love is on his to-do list (homemade hundur sauce I'm looking at you).

Even when he's down in his research he'll look out for you from time to time.

Also doing the sad eyes when he thinks about the situation. When he was told it wasn't an option he was rather terrified.

Still he prepares a worst case scenario books to teach you stuff about Faerûn. Prays he doesn't have to ever use them.

Karlach (yeet into Avernus with Wyll)

Yo this girl will be your shoulder to cry on.

But she'll probably cry with you together.

She knows how it feels more than she'd like.

But she can leave Avernus from time to time, can't imagine being stuck there forever.

After crying together she'll remain strong for you, probably won't leave your side in fear of you doing something stupid too.

Can't help much with magic but cheering you up? You've got this. Long chats to drive your mind away from the situation about any topic other than that, cuddles, that sort of things.

Also helping you gain some physical strength so you can survive here.

Hugs. Hugs. And once again - hugs.

Will look out for you most of the time if she can't be near.

Astarion (vampire spawn in Baldur's Gate)

He won't even dare to make a joke about it.

I mean it.

He may not know being stuck in other world, but being a slave with no way out of it gives him an idea of what kind of situation you're in.

Won't be the cuddliest or shit, but will keep your Earth clothes in a good shape (tailor time). Just so you have something from there to last longer.

Much like the others, he'll look out for you in the night, but will do it his sneaky way. Just enough for him to know you're alright without you noticing.

He'll say how he feels about your situation in time though. May even offer a hug. He's not Karlach but after all the events he's more open to physical contact with his friends.

Ready to teach you more stuff about Faerûn if nothing works to get you back to Earth. Especially archery. And sneaking. And stealing.

Shadowheart (Selûnite edition)

Let's be honest, all of these people were torn apart from their homes in one way or another.

Shadowheart can relate to you, though her experience is different too.

She doesn't remember much, but you do.

Approaches you with good (but weak) wine and allows you to pour your misery out.

Tells you you have a place to stay with her parents (let's go the happy endings route).

She's not a wizard, but will keep an eye out for every piece of knowledge about travelling through different worlds.

You've been to Shadowfell and Avernus after all.

Will talk you out of sacrificing your memories to Shar. She knows all to well she'd take everything from your little desperate soul.

Flowers are her language of love.

Will also animal speech Scratch and the owlbear to play with you instead of her, telling them how bad you feel.

Soon you can't get them off you, but it does put a smile on your face.

When no one is looking she'll pray to Selûne to guide you your way back home.

Much like everyone she looks out for you, ready to teach you about Faerûn as well (if she hasn't already she'll teach you how to heal yourself when you're alone).

Lae'zel (Freeing Githyanki/Orpheus sacrificed)

At first she found your tears weak.

Then she realized what it would feel like not being able to return to her people.

She felt that to the gut.

She'll show you more tricks to make your enemies fall quick (lmao I rhymed this one).

Also will keep an eye out for a knowledge that could bring you back to Earth (you know, Githyanki and their tons of knowledge).

Not much talkative but you'll see understanding in her eyes soon enough.

If you're a sword fighter she'll give you one of her sharpest ones. Githyanki language of caring is either combat or weapons you know.

(Daddy) Halsin

He also remembers being somewhere else against his wishes, though as a slave.

A single thought of not seeing sun again if he was to stay in the Underdark forever gives him creeps.

You need a hug? A cuddle? He'll be there for you in either form you choose.

You're not escaping whittling and druidic magic lessons. Just so you can get your mind off things and also heal/defend yourself should the situation call for it.

Offers you a place to stay, you're welcome anytime.

Not much of a cook but will pick the finest berries and find the biggest honey comb in the forest.

Looks out for you in some small wildshape (raven or a squirrel probably) when you sneak in the night to cry alone. Should he see situation is bad will approach you in his usual bear form.

Strongly believes there's a way - you've done much that was thought to be impossible. Especially you, someone who had almost no previous experience with weapons or magic.

He's old and wise - will keep thinking about it in hopes some solution will remind itself.

Wyll (yeet into Avernus with Karlach)

Banished from his home he understands a bit of your situation.

Haven't been to other world with no way back, it was his decision to go to Avernus with Mommy K, but he knows Karlach and it helps him understand it.

Another shoulder you can cry one, the Blade does not judge.

Still you're fresh to Faerûn and he'll hate to see you dead before your time, so he'll offer you fencing lessons (I can hear that eyeroll, Lae'zel).

Asks about the dances back in your world and gladly learns them (belgijka jumpscare).

Looking out for you when you go somewhere alone (especially at night).

In Avernus he'll look for some knowledge about travels to different worlds. It's another plane of existence after all.

Jaheira, Minsc & Boo

Minsc is happy to have his friend here forever only to understand the situation after either Jaheira or Boo explains it to him.

Jaheira feels for you more than she'd like to show, but you'll see care in her eyes.

Just like Halsin she'll research her memory for anything that may allow you to return.

Minsc apologises to you after the scolding.

Won't help much tho, he'll be just an emotional support (together with Boo, of course).

Jaheira asks all the Harpers to keep an eye out for any book or a scroll related to your problem. Also will ask any of her old friends to do the same, even if it means her repaying that favour. She can still go fast when she wants to!

[yayll]

The jealous Dazqi post was so cute and funny and the callbacks to his past self were fun and now i can’t stop thinking about cringefail teen Dazai with the biggest, fattest crush ever and not knowing how to deal with it

YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH THIS MADE ME LAUGH ANON I ADORE YOU FOR THE VISUAL.

cringefail teen Dazai so obsessed to the point where he is literally pointing a gun at the other recruit who's at least 10 years older than him because he complimented you on how your so mature for your age when it comes to leadership skills. (it's both an insult that he would perceive you in that way and also.... why the fuck is he talking to you at all?) he has to use his authority to further his cruelty.

Dazai does the most unhinged things behind your back, especially. it gets soooo dire that sometimes he has to recruit CHUUYA for intimidation purposes. Dazai thinks of himself as intimidating enough but thinks having the 5'3 gravity user pointing thousands of bullets at any person who made you laugh or smile or cry will add that pizzazz he's looking for. Chuuya smacks him upside the head after and remarks that you'd never go for him anyway.

one time, he begged Mori to let him 'supervise' your mission as executive, and it really just ended up with you doing your job and him standing by any large body of water contemplating if he should kill himself because he doesn't like what he's feeling for you. and if perhaps you don't feel the same? even more reason to wipe himself off this earth. but then you smile at him... and sometimes even give him a high five for a job well done..... and let's just say that was the first time he discovered alcohol. and alcohol poisoning soon after.

one time he saw you writing in your diary, and that very night is driven to insanity in your quarters searching for it, looking for any mention of him in it like a little rabid gremlin. you catch him in the act too, and he simply flings it onto your bed and crosses his arms in complete denial that he's hopelessly smitten with you.

"Dazai? what're you doing here? is that my diary?!"

"HUH? i'm not reading it, i'm literally not!"

"then what are you doing with it, huh?

and he just flashes you those hopeless loser ass puppy eyes when he realizes the jig is up.

"... do you like me or what?"

and you're just like.....

"of course i do, idiot."

like damn took him long enough. you kiss him on the cheek and he's like.... oh wow could it be i'm not delusional? but he can't even HANDLE YOUR DIRECT CONFESSION so he just self destructs and snorts like the immature little shit he is rolling his eyes and whatnot as he storms out of your room.

"yeah, well OF COURSE YOU DO. I KNEW THAT ALREADY."

then he giggles and prances alllll the way back to the shipping container oopsies.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

4 Great Motives for Writing by George Orwell

George Orwell:

From a very early age, perhaps the age of five or six, I knew that when I grew up I should be a writer. Between the ages of about seventeen and twenty-four I tried to abandon this idea, but I did so with the consciousness that I was outraging my true nature and that sooner or later I should have to settle down and write books. Putting aside the need to earn a living, I think there are four great motives for writing, at any rate for writing prose. They exist in different degrees in every writer, and in any one writer the proportions will vary from time to time, according to the atmosphere in which he is living. They are:

(i) Sheer egoism. Desire to seem clever, to be talked about, to be remembered after death, to get your own back on grown-ups who snubbed you in childhood, etc., etc. It is humbug to pretend this is not a motive, and a strong one. Writers share this characteristic with scientists, artists, politicians, lawyers, soldiers, successful business men – in short, with the whole top crust of humanity. The great mass of human beings are not acutely selfish. After the age of about thirty they abandon individual ambition – in many cases, indeed, they almost abandon the sense of being individuals at all – and live chiefly for others, or are simply smothered under drudgery. But there is also the minority of gifted, willful people who are determined to live their own lives to the end, and writers belong in this class. Serious writers, I should say, are on the whole more vain and self-centered than journalists, though less interested in money.

(ii) Aesthetic enthusiasm. Perception of beauty in the external world, or, on the other hand, in words and their right arrangement. Pleasure in the impact of one sound on another, in the firmness of good prose or the rhythm of a good story. Desire to share an experience which one feels is valuable and ought not to be missed. The aesthetic motive is very feeble in a lot of writers, but even a pamphleteer or writer of textbooks will have pet words and phrases which appeal to him for non-utilitarian reasons; or he may feel strongly about typography, width of margins, etc. Above the level of a railway guide, no book is quite free from aesthetic considerations.

(iii) Historical impulse. Desire to see things as they are, to find out true facts and store them up for the use of posterity.

(iv) Political purpose – using the word ‘political’ in the widest possible sense. Desire to push the world in a certain direction, to alter other people’s idea of the kind of society that they should strive after. Once again, no book is genuinely free from political bias. The opinion that art should have nothing to do with politics is itself a political attitude.

It can be seen how these various impulses must war against one another, and how they must fluctuate from person to person and from time to time. By nature – taking your ‘nature’ to be the state you have attained when you are first adult – I am a person in whom the first three motives would outweigh the fourth. In a peaceful age I might have written ornate or merely descriptive books, and might have remained almost unaware of my political loyalties.

Looking back through the last page or two, I see that I have made it appear as though my motives in writing were wholly public-spirited. I don’t want to leave that as the final impression. All writers are vain, selfish, and lazy, and at the very bottom of their motives there lies a mystery. Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist or understand. For all one knows that demon is simply the same instinct that makes a baby squall for attention. And yet it is also true that one can write nothing readable unless one constantly struggles to efface one’s own personality. Good prose is like a windowpane. I cannot say with certainty which of my motives are the strongest, but I know which of them deserve to be followed. And looking back through my work, I see that it is invariably where I lacked a political purpose that I wrote lifeless books and was betrayed into purple passages, sentences without meaning, decorative adjectives and humbug generally.

Published in Gangrel, No. 4, Summer 1946

More: George Orwell

[coco-cinnamon]

Safe With You | JJ Maybank

୨୧ Warnings: Cursing, smut, angst, soft!sex, unprotected sex, soft!JJ, abuse, violence, has a fluffy ending, 18+ MDNI.

୨୧ Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Kook Reader

୨୧ Summary: In which JJ helps his girlfriend get away from his father when she goes over to his home to see him.

୨୧ Word Count: 1.5k

୨୧ Author's Note: this fic is from my old blog @babeydollx. this and most of my other fics will be reposted over here to my new blog. Also I fr have no idea why this fic is written from my pov and not Y/N's because that isn't usually how I write but I was too lazy to fix it, sorry! Maybe someday lol.

© coco-cinnamon 2024, please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.

I arrived at JJ's house to see him. JJ and I rarely got time to see eachother since we were on different sides of the island. My parents always had me busy with some shit all the time. It was exhausting and annoying.

I never had time for JJ anymore and I hated it. So, I decided that I would surprise him at his house to see him. I missed him so much and I knew that he missed me too. I couldn't wait to see JJ again and be in his arms.

I walked up to the house and knocked on the door. I waited for a minute or two but there was no answer. I could hear movement inside of the house so I knew that someone had to be home. You decided to try and open the door.

When I turned the door knob the door easily opened. I slowly walked inside and looked around. The house was messy and I could smell beer and weed. As I looked around, I jumped when I herd glass shatter. 

What the hell was going on? Was JJ okay? Was someone trying to hurt him? Millions of questions and thoughts flooded my head as I looked for JJ. The sounds were coming from the backyard. I dashed out to the backyard to see JJ on the ground with an older man on top of him and punching him.

"Stop! Stop hurting him! Please!" I screamed as I ran over to the two men in the backyard. I couldn't pull the older man of of JJ so I grabbed a empty beer bottle off of the ground and smashed it over his head.

Luke stopped punching JJ and got dizzy before collapsing on the ground. JJ sat up on the ground and looked over at me in shock. 

"What the hell are you doing here?!" JJ asked.

"I- I came to see you.." I said.

"Didn't I tell you to not come here?" He asked.

"You did but, it had been so long since I saw you so I thought I could surprise you. I didn't expect for any of this to happen. Who is he? Why was he hurting you?" You asked.

"He's, uhm... he's my dad." JJ mumbled. 9

"He's your father?!" I asked in shock. JJ nodded. "Why would he hurt you?!" I yelled.

"I don't know. Cause he is constantly drunk and high I guess." He shrugged. "I'm use to it by now, he's been doing it for years." JJ said. I could feel tears pooling in my eyes. This was absolutely heartbreaking. How could a parent do this to their child?

Before I could say anything else to JJ, someone tackled me to the ground harshly. I screamed when it happened. 

"GET OFF OF HER!" JJ yelled. Luke was on top of me. I tried to fight Luke off but he began to hit me hard. I screamed and cried more as he continued to hit me. I could hear JJ yelling and trying to pull his father off of me.

Finally, JJ had got Luke off of me and began to beat the shit out of Luke. I scrambled to my feet and watched the scene go down. I could feel tears streaming down my face still and I was in pain. After a few minutes of JJ beating Luke up, he finally got off of him and ran over to me.

He hugged me and I hid my face in his chest. I finally felt safe. I knew that even if Luke woke up again that JJ would keep me safe, he would make sure that Luke wouldn't hurt me again or worse. 

"Are you okay, Y/N?!" JJ asked worried as he checked me for any terrible injuries. 

"I'm okay." I said with a sniffle and nodded. 

"I am so sorry that this happened to you. You shouldn't have had to see any of this." JJ said with a frown as he hugged me again. 

"I'm sorry that you have had to go through this for years.." I said with a frown. "Why didn't you tell me this was happening to you?" I asked.

"Because I didn't want you to worry. This isn't your burden to bare, Y/N.." He said. 

"JJ.. we're a team. You can tell me anything and everything, okay? Whatever you are dealing with, I want to be there for you to help you." I said. JJ nodded slowly. "Anyways, did you want to stay the night at my place tonight? My parents are out of town so we have the house to ourselves." I said with a smile.

"That would be nice. Thanks, Y/N." He said with a smile.

"Anytime." I said as JJ and I get ready to go to my house.

We arrived at my house and went inside together. I got both of us a water bottle and then we both went upstairs to my bedroom. I gave him his water bottle and sat down on the bed beside him and we talked for a while. After we both chatted for a bit, we both went silent not knowing what to do next.

"So, what now?" I asked looking over at JJ. He sat there thinking for a moment before looking back over at me. A smirk spread across his face.

"I have a few ideas." He said with a smirk. Before I could ask him any questions he kissed me passionately. I kissed back, melting into the kiss. The was he kissed me was magical. He always knew how to make me feel a certain way without even trying. 

As we made out, he gently pushed me down onto my back onto the bed. I ran my hands through his soft, blond hair as the two of us made out. Once we got both of our clothes off and out of the way, JJ was positioning himself between my legs.

I held onto his shoulders tightly and sucked in a breath as JJ slowly pushed inside of me. I gasped and moaned out softly. He groaned quietly as he bottomed out. He then began to thrust into me.

I gently threw my head back and groaned out. I held onto him tightly as he fucked into me, slowly picking up the pace. He continued to slowly pick up the pace until he was fucking me at an ungodly pace.

I moaned out even louder than I did before. I arched my back off of the bed and moaned out, almost screaming at this point. I could feel that familiar knot bubbling in the bottom of my stomach and I knew that I was going to cum any second now. I then clenched around JJ, signaling to him that I was going to cum. 

"Fuck, you gonna cum, princess?" He asked as he groaned out.

"Yes, fuck! I'm gonna fucking cum!" I yelled. 

"Come on, cum for me." JJ said. With that my eyes rolled back and my legs began to shake as I came hard on JJ's hard cock. He thrusted into me a few more times before coming himself, shooting his load deep inside of me.

JJ pulled out of me and I laid their trying to catch my breath. He laid down beside me and he was also trying to catch his breath. After we both took some time to come down from that, JJ smiled and gently pulled me over and snuggled me.

I giggled when he did so. I always loved to be in JJ's arms. He always made me feel so safe. We both laid there together and talked for awhile while we were tangled in each other's arms. After we both talked and snuggled, we both fell asleep together.

I woke up the next morning to see that JJ was no longer in bed with me. I sat up and rubbed my eyes before looking around my bedroom. No sign of JJ. As I was about to go look around the house for JJ, I saw a note on my bedside table.

I took the note off of the table and unfolded it before reading it. 

Thanks for letting me stay the night at your house, Y/N. Again, I am so sorry that you had to witness all of that yesterday and go through that. I promise I will come back later, I just have a few things to sort out with my dad. I love you, Y/N.

- JJ

I smiled at the note that JJ left me. I thought it was so sweet that he had decided to write me a note. I missed JJ so much already but, I couldn't wait to see JJ again.

Author's Note: tysm for reading, lovies!

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Fun Carmy

Fun Carmy is relaxed Carmy, the other one is Logan, his social alter ego.

I was wondering if Carmy ever had a day of fun in whole life because IMO he has always been that anxious lil kid around others, that we saw in Fishes (02X06), I’m sure. He’s better at the tête-à-tête like the one he briefly had with Michelle that evening

OR as part of small close-knit groups, like that scene in the kitchen (Ceres 01x06).

These assumptions, I think, are also completely backed up by his S1 -Emmy Winning- monologue (Braciole 01x08).

And what I ended up realizing is that FUN CARMEN is not the one we might think we haven’t really seen yet, and that fun for him does NOT look like it may look for us or for a more extrovert type of person.

I happen to be listening to Nina as I type this, and she once said:

I think that quote fits Carmy and his "sense of fun" perfectly.

Fun Carmy is relaxed Carmy, and at peace Carmy.

This is fun Carmy

Fun for Carmy doesn't look like this

Fun Carmy is relaxed Carmy

Logan is not "fun", he is actually a source of anxiety for Carmy, and that's why he can't keep him "on" for long. He wasn't lying when he said he wasn't remotely OK at the party (Pop 02x05) because at that point he hadn't turned Logan on yet.

Logan is "The other one", the one most people would label as "fun", because it better fits the social CONSTRUCT of what fun looks like, but Logan Fernello Berzatto is actually his functional alter-ego.

His functional or social alter - ego explained from a behaviorist perspective

We all have functional alter egos, this is related to the PERSONAL constructs concept developed by Psychologist George Kelly. These are formed at a fairly early age, even well within our 20s we are still forming our personalities and constructs or ideas of how the world works and what everything means, and thus how we should interact with and/or react to this world we live in, in other words, how to adapt or not to our environment. Then comes our career that can prolong this formative period even more, for instance, celebs of any age are required to have an alter ego for those occasions on which they have to "turn it on" for the camera or the stage → "the stage persona" that is NEVER the same person as the real one behind the wheel of the "functional alter-ego" and this persona has been formed based on their ideal of what has worked best for them in the past, what their PR team or Managers require of them to get them jobs, etc. They may come across as genuine and relatable but celebs are usually always "on" when we see them even off camera, so they are not, not completely. We all have the "office construct", the "school construct", the "mom chat group construct", etc. That is actually a sign of being well-adjusted to fit in society, and that is why we do not act the exact same way in all those different situations even though we are the same person, because we are not the same "persona" and that's OK. It's not a sign of phoniness, or lack of honesty, although it can definitely turn into that and become dysfunctional when there's an underlying mental health disorder, although it doesn't always turn out like that, thank dog!

In Carmy's case in particular, he can handle Logan and turn him on / off at will, which means he's in that aspect still well-adjusted despite his multiple mental health conditions, probably because none of them is a personality disorder, so it's safe to assume that he somewhat knows what's he's doing, he's choosing it to a certain extent and it's not 100% unconscious, only partially.

His lines are becoming blurry because he let Syd in, whether he admits it or not. And deep down, he knows this but he's not fully willing to go there (yet). That's what S4 is for.

This aligns with the rest of his behavior I already went over in previous posts:

Fun Carmy is the one that California, Copenhagen, and Chicago post-Sydney Adamu brought out in him. He's what most people, not me, would call relaxed, chilled, etc.

Relaxed Carmy, at peace Carmy, coloring Carmy, talking about food and cracking lil jokes under a table Carmy, is FUN CARMY.

We know him already. We've seen him. He just turns him off when he's The Bear or Logan.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[inkdrinkerworld]

Cw: brief mention of past childhood abuse/trauma, talk of not being good parents. This is representation for the girlies (gn) that are unsure about being parents/know they don’t want kids! You’re perfect and valid

Sirius Black x fem!reader (one use of girl at the end there)

“I don’t think I’d want to have kids.” You say to Sirius as you lay beside him, your head on his shoulder as he tickles your back.

It’s an abrupt confession seeing as neither of you had been talking about that, but Sirius just hums.

“Any reason why, poppet?” His voice is even. To be truthful, Sirius goes back and forth with the idea too.

You take a while to elaborate; “I think having to help raise my siblings, and then dealing with all of that stress and having to correct my brother’s actions and all of that,” you take a breath. “I think it took it out of me. I also really don’t want to screw up a kid.”

Sirius nods, a kiss to your cheek. He feels you inhale against his hand and waits for you to speak again, “Would that make our relationship harder? Would it be a deal breaker?”

He pulls back to get a good look at you. “Because you don’t want babies?” When you nod, Sirius shakes his head. “No, doll. I don’t think I want kids either, but especially so if you don’t want them.”

“Don’t say that just to agree with me, Siri.” You sigh and Sirius copies you.

“I’m not. I go back and forth with it just as you do. Most days I’m leaning towards it just being me and you.” His voice is too raw and earnest for you to doubt him.

You breathe out long, “I just,” you pause, picking your words. “We’ve both had shitty childhoods, I don’t know if we’d be good parents. No one can be perfect and I don’t want to fuck up a kid that didn’t have the choice of being here; I know that much for certain.”

“I think that’s a good thing to know, babe. We aren’t what happened to us and while we’re better now, we can’t predict how we’ll be despite our best efforts with our own kids, you’re right. I wouldn’t want to fuck them up either.”

They fall when you say, “Does that make me a bad person? That I wouldn’t risk it because raising my siblings was like me having kids already and really don’t want to fuck them up like we were?”

He doesn’t like that this has been troubling you. Sirius knows you better than anyone else on planet earth and he knows for you to cry like this means you’ve thought about this a lot.

He hates that you’ve been tormenting yourself over not wanting kids for so long.

Sirius pulls you closer when your tears turn to sobs, his arms firm weight around your back as he kisses your eyes. Salty tears pass through the seam of his lips.

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, poppet. That makes you a good person actually. We can keep our family just like this. Me, you, the birds you feed in the yard and maybe a dog later down the road.”

“And a cat,” you say all sniffly and Sirius wrinkles his nose.

“If you really want a cat, I’ll get you a cat. Just no more thinking it’s wrong to not want kids.” You nod, content to let Sirius pet you as your cries slow.

“You’ll still love me the most right?” He laughs, tilting your chin up and kissing your lips.

“I love you best, silly girl. Always will, even if we had kids.” You slap his chest and Sirius shrugs. “Maybe that’s how I know I’m not cut out, I don’t think I could put someone over you.” He laughs suddenly. “Fuck that’s sounds horrid.”

You wiggle onto his chest, kissing the constellation he got for you. “Doesn’t sound horrid. Dunno if I could handle not being top of your love list.” You say teasingly and Sirius smiles, all pleased that even with your red nose and slightly puffy eyes you’re okay.

Pride blooms in his chest as it does every time he assuages your worries. “Well, you never have to worry, poppet. Now gimme a kiss and let’s finish this episode of Bake Off.”

[polaris-stuff]

Do you have any Dark Sun headcanons?

Hi hi, anon!! ✨

It's currently 3AM where I am, but I'll take advantage of the fact that I'm taking a break from work to respond quickly (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

CW for content of a ship with high toxic content. You have been warned.

I don't really think I have too many HCs for Dark Sun, but I really like playing with his past, especially involving his Moon and the romanticism in cannibalism, hehe.

"Fellas, is it gay to eat your counterpart?" Dark Sun asks after devouring his Moon XD

Well, basically I feel like those two didn't even consider themselves a couple or anything like that, it was more like a toxic and abusive codependency that no matter how you looked at it, you knew it was going to end very badly. But they still stayed there and kept hurting each other because they liked it.

Dark Sun (and really, all Suns) loves to be in control so the ability to not only be able to manipulate his Moon the way he wants, but also break it and put it back together the way he wants, make him tremble and then coo him to calm him down. And GOD, Moon loves that, feeling so delicate and weak, the feeling of slipping into pieces through Sun's own hands, stopping feeling, stopping thinking and then it all comes back at once, and it's a shock of adrenaline that Moon can't never get enough of.

And so Dark Sun kept doing it, until it was no longer satisfying. Doing the same thing over and over again, same reactions, same results; it wasn't fun anymore. So he went further and these pieces he tore off he started eating.

In canon he and Moon have different bodies but I like the idea that they were never separated a little better so Dark Sun basically ate the pieces of Moon's code until make them part of himself. Idk, the romance of eating the person you love to be closer than ever lol

The only reason their codes didn't end up creating an Eclipse was because of Dark Sun's literal willpower to be stronger and in control. So Moon's code was of no use other than his intelligence and knowledge, because the Killcode was destroyed by tearing off the pieces.

Other than that, I don't think I have anything else about his past!!

Oh! I also have the HC that he likes birds more than cats.

And lastly, I have the HC that Dark Sun manipulated not only the situation and conditions to create Nexus, but also used the black matter generator to guide NSP to New Moon and basically poison him little by little. It was when Dark Sun completely ripped the Old Moon chip out of Nexus' head that the accumulated NSP took the chip's place (and consequently, finishing distorting Nexus' mind)

[matrixbearer2024]

Just something I'd like to say about the Stan twins among other things I've seen here on tumblr and everywhere else. Also because I'm genuinely confused why this is even a thing. I don't really see the point in why people have to look at characters and say: good/bad, nuances exist and morality is mostly grey haha.

One of the reasons why I chose to write for Ford isn't really because I don't think he's a bad person, au contraire I know he's done really shitty things but I don't think he's bad. That would be an oversimplification.

If I had to be completely open about it, his situation is actually pretty similar to mine aside from the fact his sibling is a twin. My brother is two years younger than me.

But still, shit happens. Cornered by everyone and everything, one is labeled as gifted and special while the other is seen as stupid and useless, then the split between family and aspiration.

Granted, I've never made a deal with a demonic piece of geometry and I've gone through a different set of circumstances in a completely different time frame– but still. I get where his arrogance comes from and I get how being outcasted can make you prone to doing a lot of shitty things to chase validation.

God forbid someone comes to you and strokes your ego to death, that's the easiest way to manipulate someone with the picture of self-confidence and it's made of glass.

I can't say that what happened to me was a fortunate occurrence, but I was severely humbled at a young age and it's probably why I turned out differently. Ford never really did, he clung onto the idea of being special and being a coveted rarity.

Point is, I can kind of see where he's coming from and a lot of his fights with Stan I also kind of understand. I'm not condoning his actions, especially because I've had legendary fights with my brother before and remembering them all makes me feel like shit because there are things I've done I can never bring myself to forgive– but it's why I can understand why shit unfolded the way it did.

I'm not even going to go into grudges because I've held a grudge over someone for 12 years so I can also get why Ford would end up doing that for fucking 30– but yeah. I don't think either twin is really right or wrong. Stan got dealt a bad hand like my brother, and Ford got shoved into the limelight like me. I can understand the both of them well.

Also to those who wonder why Stan would even forgive Ford, I don't know what else to say other than it might be a sibling thing. I used to fight with my brother simply because he'd excel better in some of the things I do. I'd purposefully work harder to overshadow him and he knew. He would let me succeed and even rub it in his face because he saw that it made me happy.

Even after all this time he doesn't hold it against me so that's something I'm eternally grateful for. But yeah, he cared that much when all I did was be selfish. I still think it depends on some siblings but yeah, for these two they hit close to home just for doing what they do.

Not to mention, my brother's also had his moments where it looks like he's destroyed my things/projects on the sole reason that he thinks it's taking me away from him. That it's taking his best friend away from him.

One of those times was when I was creating a painting for a competition years ago, he got mad I spent so much time on it and accidentally knocked over the water container and it spilled all over my work. The painting was effectively ruined and I blew up at him for it.

Sound familiar?

Where Stan played off his destruction, my brother kept apologizing and owning up to his fuck-up. Where Ford refused to listen, I eventually just compromised with my brother and told him to help me create the new painting.

That painting didn't win any prizes but still ended up being exhibited, I'd show a picture of it with my brother and I next to it if I didn't like keeping my irl family private online.

Ford also being kind of unable to move on/deal with himself is something I do to detriment. It takes a lot to deal with that, much more overcome it.

Things change, time passes, circumstances shift. But yeah, this is just my two cents on it and kind of a window to why I also write Ford and Stan the way I do.

[raineandsky]

Hello, I was wondering if you could please write something where Villain thinks they are under a love potion slipped by hero’s allies. After every moment they see hero they feel they are in love with them. But when they confront the teammate they find, to their surprise that they gave them a ‘speak your heart’ potion to get them to confess their crimes and never expected them to have feelings for their friend. Coming to the shock and realization that they had indeed fallen for hero but had been ignoring it/suppressing it. Now they are at the point where they can deny it no longer. Thank you for your consideration and for reading this! I hope you have an absolutely lovely day! 💕

this was.... such a cute idea??? i liked writing this one, i hope you enjoy reading!! thank you as always for the request!!

Heroes are liars. The villain knows this well. They’ll lie, cheat and bribe their way into anything that might mean another villain in jail, another victory under their belt.

There are telltale signs of lying, of course. Looking away, shifting about, smiling awkwardly. The villain has learnt all of these, because they know that heroes are liars, but also tend to be bad liars.

This hero, from the villain’s deduction, is either an incredibly good liar or telling the truth. God, the villain wants it to be the former.

“Love potion turns blue,” this hero is saying. “When I poured the heart-speaker in your drink it went orange.”

The hero’s looking right at them, stock still, face blank except for what seems a little like horror. Liar, surely. He’s just a damn good one. “Bullshit. You’re— You’re fucking with my head.”

“I’m not doing anything!” the hero cries. “I’ve been following you around with a recorder because I was hoping you’d admit to your crimes! I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

The villain turns away from them—a mistake most villains know not to make, not that the villain particularly cares right now—and heaves a deep sigh. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Does it?

The villain is no stranger to love potions and their effects. How they noticeably warp their victim’s perception of reality, of who they can trust. The villain, subject to one such potion for one of the supervillain’s strange experiments, noticed that everything felt different, that their feelings on certain people had inexplicably changed. The effects also wore off after a day.

The villain’s been feeling like this for a week. Loose, almost detached, like honesty is the best policy even though their colleagues would scream for them to stop talking.

They’ve seen their hero more than once this past week. Carefully stamped-down, begrudging respect has blown up into desperate infatuation. Their hero says some well-practised lines about taking them down, the villain stutters out some of their own about never being caught, and then they fight, the physicality of it entirely overwhelming sometimes.

That’s more than a simple love potion has ever done to the villain.

Their hero is— how long has the villain been calling them that? That hero isn’t the villain’s anything except their nemesis. They need to get out of their own head before the heart-speaker drowns them in their own emotions.

“How… how long does it last?” the villain asks faintly.

“Well,” the hero says, “at least a week.”

“Oh my god. You don’t even know.” The villain scoffs in offence. “Jesus, I— I can’t see [Hero] again like this.”

“You’re freaking out, [Villain],” the hero butts in carefully. “You’re recognising your own feelings for the first time. It’s a lot. I get it.”

The hero doesn’t get it. The villain feels like the world’s about to end. “What the hell am I meant to do?”

“You could tell them.”

“Are you insane? No!” The villain wrings their hands, pacing thoughtlessly. “No, this isn’t right. The heart-speaker will wear off and everything will go back to normal. It’s fine.”

“I mean…” The hero glances down at the little audio recorder in their hand. It looks ancient, as most hardware does that comes from the agency. “I still have a ton of free space on this thing.”

“I’m not saying it out loud and I’m certainly not letting you record it.”

The hero shrugs, the lightest smirk weaving its way onto their stupid face. “I didn’t think you would. I do have some heart-speaker left. Enough for… someone else.”

On any normal day, the villain wouldn’t care too much about knowing what their hero thinks of them. But this day isn’t normal, and with this goddamn potion working its magic on them, the villain is painfully, embarrassingly desperate to know every little detail of their hero’s thoughts.

The villain squints at the hero to make it clear they’re not agreeing to this immediately, although their body language probably suggests otherwise. “Okay, well, it’s not your worst idea.”

The hero nods sagely. “I think I know which idea of mine you think is the worst. I’ll make sure this one isn’t to your detriment, though—it’ll be fun working with you, partner.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why, saving it for someone else?”

The villain wants to snap back at them for the tease as the hero laughs, but they can’t deny what the heart-speaker is forcing them to admit.

Yes.