#i think its just that these are things that i always thought of as happening to Other People

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version) II

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: Alexia comes home from work

Alexia comes in from a long day of coaching to find carnage in the house but no more than usual.

Jaume's muddy football boots are scattered in the entrance hall along with his school bag and his training bag. His jacket is thrown callously on the ground and she can just make out the dishes he hasn't cleaned up from his afternoon snack on the kitchen counters.

Her son is found in the living room, whirred into a game of FIFA and talking into his headset to his friends.

Your own ballet bag sits at the bottom of the stairs and Alexia can hear rhythmic thumping from your bedroom. She pops the door open and throws your bag onto the bed.

You're sitting at your desk, breaking in your pointe shoe by thwacking it against the corner of your study space. You're attacking the shank of your shoe viciously while your other one lays perfectly broken in next to you.

You've raided the sewing box too, a needle already threaded so you can sew on your ribbons as soon as you're done breaking in your second shoe.

"Did that one do something to you?" Alexia says and you jolt in shock, not having realised she came in.

"Yeah," You reply with a wry smile," It didn't come broken in." You whack it one final time against your desk and test its flexibility, finally content and get to work sewing your ribbons onto the shoes.

"You left your bag by the stairs," Alexia says and you roll your eyes.

"Jaume left his stuff all over the house," You reply," He's so messy."

"He's a boy. Boys are messy."

"Have you made him clean it up yet?"

"I'm letting him finish his FIFA match. It might embarrass him in front of his friends."

You roll your eyes again, tying off your first ribbons before moving onto the second. "They're so annoying."

"They're hormonal," Alexia replies. She takes your other shoe and starts sewing a set of ribbons on. "They'll grow out of it."

"Can they grow out of it now?" You mutter," I'm sick of them watching me."

Alexia freezes, like a pail of icy water has been thrown on top of her. Her mouth goes dry. "What?"

You give her a look. "Huh?"

"What do you mean they're watching you?"

You shrug. "I don't know. They're hormonal boys. I'm Jaume's older sister." You wrinkle your nose. "They say gross things sometimes. It's not a big deal."

Alexia hates that aspect of you. You're so resigned to the concept that it is what it is. You had problems like this when you were younger too, merely accepting bullying and rude words at you because you didn't think it would matter if you tried to fight it.

It's something that Alexia's never managed to snap you out of but she never thought that she would see it in a situation like this.

"What kinds of things?"

You frown at her. "I thought you knew."

"No! Is that why you didn't tell me?"

You shrug. "I thought if you were fine with it happening then I should be fine with it happening."

"No...Bambi...You should never think that those kinds of things are okay. They're not and if it happens again, you come to me right away."

You nod, not fully convinced. "Okay, Mami."

"Hey," She says," Put on your shoes. We're overdue a catch up."

Alexia's busy coaching at Barcelona most days. She's almost always working but she tries to find the time for you and Jaume both together and alone. It used to be a tradition that she would take you out once a week by yourself to 'catch up' but work has been so busy these past few weeks so you're long overdue some one-on-one time together.

"I'm sewing my ribbons!" You complain and Alexia fondly ruffles your hair.

"And you can take a break. You've just come from a full day of dancing. Go put on comfortable shoes. You can sew your ribbons tonight."

You huff but do what you're told.

Alexia goes back downstairs, switching the tv off.

"Mami!" Jaume complains, pulling down his headset," I was in the middle of a match!"

She gives him a pointed look. "And your stuff is in the middle of my house."

"I'll pick it up later."

"You'll pick it up now," Alexia says," This isn't your room, Jaume. I like my house to be tidy."

He huffs and moves to get up.

"And tell your friends to stop saying foul things to your sister."

He freezes, every muscle in his body going rigid and stiff. "What?"

"I know what teenage boys are like, Jaume, and I understand peer pressure and not saying anything so you can fit in but this isn't school. Your sister deserves to come home and feel safe."

"It...It was just jokes, Mami."

"Was it? You may think they were joking but were they actually?"

Jaume's face grows a little confused. "But they had to be! There's...There's no way they'd come to our house and...and say those things to her and actually mean them! Right? Mami, right?"

"Jaume..." Alexia sighs. It's clear to her now that Jaume genuinely had no idea that his friends could actually mean what they said. Alexia takes some comfort in knowing that, at least, Jaume hadn't done this out of spite or any other malicious feeling towards you. "Even if they were jokes, your sister doesn't need to be made fun of in her own house. If you let them get away with stuff now then they're just going to keep building and building and building on it until it's too late to stop them."

"Mami..." Jaume looks heartbroken now, glancing up the stairs where he knows you're doing something in your room. "They...She...Is she okay?"

"I'm taking your sister out," Alexia says," She's had a long day at practice and she needs some time to decompress, okay? Can I trust you to clean up your stuff and get started on your homework?"

He nods.

"Good boy." Alexia kisses his forehead. "Your Mama should be home soon. No tv until your work is done."

"Okay, Mami."

Jaume sits himself at the kitchen table, going through a mind-numbingly boring Physics worksheet when you come down.

"Ready to go?" Alexia asks and you nod.

"Hey, wait!" Jaume calls out and you stop, turning to look at you. "I love you."

You frown in confusion. "I love you too."

"Good," He says," I mean, it's good that you know that I love you." He nods several times and a small bubble of laughter erupts from you.

Jaume grins like he just won the lottery and Alexia trusts in her son to lay down the law with his friends.

She guides you out the door and to the car, driving down to some quaint café that's opened up nearby.

"A milkshake?" Alexia offers after you've found a table," I heard from Mapi that they do those big monster ones with a cupcake stabbed through the straw."

"Mami," You admonish," I still have dance tomorrow."

"Hmm," Alexia says," You're right. It's probably too big for one each. We can share."

"Mami!" You laugh," I'm trying to stay healthy. The Spring Season starts soon. We have performances to do."

Alexia reaches over to pinch your cheek and you roll your eyes. "Well, I'm your Mami and I say it's okay. You know, I'm quite wise."

"Fine," You say," But if we're getting a milkshake then let's get the red velvet one."

"Whatever you want, bambi."

Alexia orders some cupcakes and a cookie with it and rolls her eyes as you mock complain with no actual annoyance in your tone.

"Now," She says," I've spoken to your brother and he's going to sort his friends out or else."

You roll your eyes, poking at your food. "It's fine. I can deal with it."

"You shouldn't have to deal with it." Alexia reaches across the table for your hand. "Boys will be boys but that doesn't mean they should be saying those things to you. I...I just...Bambi why didn't you tell me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, eyes darting to the side.

"Bambi," Alexia says again," Come on. You can tell me things, you know that, right?"

You nod. "I just...I was worried that I was being silly. That..." You shrug. "You know, you would think I was overreacting. It shouldn't bother me as much as it is. They're just stupid boys."

"Boys are always stupid," Alexia says decisively," And I don't think you're overreacting. It's going to be sorted out. If Jaume doesn't then I will."

She speaks so firmly that you can't help but agree, saved from replying by your mouth full of cake.

You still look a little awkward talking about it though so Alexia pivots the conversation away.

"So," She asks," What ballet is it this season?"

You're not usually talkative about the ballets you're practising, preferring it to be a surprise when you gift the family tickets to opening night but with the season approaching, you don't mind as much.

"First half of the season is La Sylphide," You say, sipping on the straw of the milkshake," Second half is Giselle."

Those words mean nothing to Alexia but you look excited so she decides to be excited for you.

Your cheeks go a little red and you pick at your cake. "Actually...I...er..."

"Is something wrong?"

"No...I...Do you remember when I told you that a few of our soloists got injured?"

Alexia racks her brain. "I think so. You said it was after the Nutcracker performances, right?"

You nod. "Well, they're still not back and the balletmaster decided to start doing understudies in case of injuries and sickness."

Alexia nods along. It's a smart choice, like rotating the players in a team.

You don't look at her, staring down at your plate.

"They're guaranteed one night though, you know, as the lead."

"Okay?"

"Mami, I'm playing Giselle."

Alexia chokes. "What?"

You finally look up at her. "I'm playing the lead, Mami."

"I..." Alexia whips out her phone. "What day is it? I need to check I'm not busy. No, I'll rearrange my meetings if I am. Oh, we'll have to call your Abuela and your Tia. Oh! And Mapi too! Jenni, as well." She starts typing away at her phone. "Wait, let me just text Olga. We'll have to get Jaume a proper outfit if you're going to play lead. And-"

"Mami," You cut her off though your voice is soft and quiet," It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?!" Alexia scoffs," You're seventeen years old, playing the lead in a professional ballet company! How could you keep this a secret?! Oh, bambi, we have to sort out tickets. What day did you say it was?"

You laugh. "I didn't, Mami."

Alexia crams the rest of her cake into her mouth. "We have to get home. We have to tell Jaume and Olga!" She looks at you for a moment. "So grown up! My little baby, playing the lead!"

You slouch in your seat. "Mami, calm down. It's for one night. People are staring."

"Up! Up!" Alexia insists," Come on! What do you want for dinner?"

"Mami-"

"You choose. Anything! Anything you want!"

"Mami-"

"What about that fancy place near Alba's house? I think I can get us a reservation."

"Mami!"

"Sorry, bambi. What did you want?"

"Can I just have a hug?"

Alexia pulls you into a hug, cradling the back of your head with her hand. "You make me so proud, bambi. I love you so much."

[bitterchocoo]

Can I request an romantic angst with Aventurine and Malleus (Male Reader)? Like Male Reader is turning into his Overblot form because he realizes he'll outlive Aventurine and trapping Penacony in the dreamscape.

Once Upon a Dream

Aventurine | M. Reader as Malleus Draconia [Twisted Wonderland]

----------

"You'll love me at once.... the way you did once upon a.. dream.."

----------

[Name] Draconia.. the crown prince.. of Briar Valley..

No one would have thought that someone like him... could have his eyes on someone from the IPC! How!? Some money grubbing asshole?! Has the prince gone mad!? He's obviously being used!?

Meanwhile on the IPC side, it's more of.. disbelief...

How? How could someone like him have none other than the crown prince of Briar Valley?? Him? Of all people??

But if one were to stop and look for just a moment... it's not what everyone originally thinks. The prince's lover.. is far from the "money grubbing asshole" people say he is. He's surprisingly charming, and has his way with words. One could see why the prince loved him so much.

Same thing could be said to the prince. People who once saw him as a cold and uncaring person was shock to see just how caring he can be.

Some would say, they're perfect for each other. They completed each other. They're the only ones who could see right past each others mask and saw the real, true version of themselves.

----------

A music box that plays an unknown melody. Its tune sounded unsettling yet also calming. Like a tune playing in a distant dream.

It intrigues him.

Such a unique way to invite someone..

And oh how happy he was to see his beloved in that place. His beloved who was also invited into this place where others would pay millions just to spend the night in.

Penacony.

"Ah! You Highness, I see that you're also invited? I thought they might have forgotten your invitation." Aventurine joked sarcastically. It's almost comedic with how [Name] always didn't receive an invitation where he is supposed to have one. It's like fate is messing with him.

[Name] can't help but chuckle at the joke. "Yes, I am indeed invited to this grand festival."

"Well that's good, it means you could enjoy a once in an Amber Era performance."

During his visit, the crown prince had met multiple people, they're so friendly and they didn't seem to fear him. How delightful! Accepting Penacony's invitation had got to be the best decision [Name] had ever made! Not to mention, meeting the famed Nameless too! If only he could share this moment with Lilia. Those rectangular things are just so hard to command! [Name] has full respect to people who know how to use such objects. Truly, they earned his respect.

And oh how happy he was that the Trailblazer wanted to spend some time with him exploring the dreamscape. This is truly more than he could ever wish for.

.

.

.

.

.

"Please let me go!"

Drip... drip.. drip..

.

.

"Is that you, Screwllum?"

Drip... drip.. drip... drip...

.

.

Those words...

Such desperation..

Such sorrow..

Isn't this a dreamscape? Then why are they suffering? Why the sadness? Why the sorrows? Why the desperation? Those people he helped Trailblazer save.. why are they so..

It wasn't until the Trailblazer explained it that he finally understood...

...

.....

...Have humans always been this fragile..? Have they always been this vulnerable to everything around them? To the point that it'll only take a single flick from someone like him and the flames of their lives extinguished?

The sight of that girl being killed by that thing... are humans truly that fragile? That a simple and clean injury caused them their lives?

Drip... drip.. drip... drip... drip..

...

"Aventurine!" The sight of his beloved walking like he had come out of a bar or a fight. It broke his heart with how distraught he is. His beloved.. how could this happen? Who did this? Why is his beloved like this?

[Name] glanced at Dr. Ratio, expecting an answer out of him. Only to be met by silence. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as doubt and uneasiness creeps within him. But that doesn't matter at the moment... what matters is his beloved. [Name] turned his head to face Aventurine as he looked at him with concern and loving eyes. "Aventurine, are you already? Can you stand properly? I can carry you if you like."

"It's nothing serious, [Name] just a killer headache, that's all." Aventurine says with his usual smile.

As far as [Name] recalls these things called "headaches" aren't usually this.. horrible.. has these headaches always been like this? Is immense pain what they all feel whenever these headaches happen?

"It's nothing really, I'll be fine! But if you excuse me.. I have some work to do.." Aventurine says before walking towards Aideen Park with a rather large bag. [Name] watches on as his beloved practically whimpers in pain, he can't help but feel saddened by the sight. Where is his usual energetic and happy beloved? Why did this have to happen? Who did this to him? Who dare lay a hand on the [Name] Draconia's beloved?!

Dr. Ratio seems to have noticed the other's distress as he let out a sigh before saying. "It's pitiful isn't it? But I suppose that's just how it is. One day we all will be like that too. Supposed you could say, he's preparing for that day."

...

...'we all will be like that too'..? What does the doctor mean by that..?

Looking at his surroundings, [Name] could see a dew elderly people walking around the Golden Hour. They look tired and worn out, with wrinkles on their faces and those white hairs...

Is that what happens to humans when they age? If he recalls, Lilia had told him something about these before. But.. never would [Name] thought he'll see it for himself. This thing actually happens. Humans age and then they...

...will Aventurine face the same too?

Will he too grow old and tired? Will he need a cane to help him walk? Will he suffer from some sort of illness or fatigue? Will he..

The thought puts a pit on [Name]'s stomach.

He's going to outlive him. [Name] would continue to live while Aventurine...

----------

'A once in an Amber Era performance'..

Oh how true those words are.. How true those words are..

Standing behind the curtains of the Theme Park, Aventurine ready himself for his upcoming act. But as his hands touch the soft material of it, his guest seems to have found him first before he could say anything else. The ground shakes like a light earthquake. This wasn't his doing. This wasn't a part of the performance! What's going on?

As much as it spoils his plans... Aventurine has no choice but to deal with this situation first and who wouldn't make a better teammate than his friends from the Astral Express? Carefully walking towards the center stage of the Theme Park. They certainly didn't expect the Prince of Briar Valley to be there. What is he doing in a place like this? Deserted. Where he stands alone with only his thoughts accompanying him.

Turning around to face the crowd, he smiles at the sight of them. "Well well... what a glamorous party. The Astral Express... the Emanator.. and the IPC's ambassador.. everyone is here. Fufufu...!"

His usual deep and velvety voice sounded just as soft as always, but somehow for an unknown reason, that tone sounded ominous, sinister even. A chill went down Aventurine's spine. Never had he heard just a tone [Name] before..

"Aventurine.. I've been thinking about this. What should I give to you.. No, what should I give you all? And I finally got the answer."

"Please accept this... It's a gift from the bottom of my heart."

They all look uneasy. A gift? What is it for? For what occasion? A gift for everyone? What is this gift? Gathering his courage, Mr. Yang spoke up in a calm and nervous tone. "Gift? Your Highness... what are you thinking about?"

[Name] can't help but chuckle at those words. "Listen carefully, everyone! I've bestowed a wonderful gift for you all. There's no need to part ways and shed tears again. We shouldn't celebrate "the end" today, it's the "beginning"!"

"Fufu.. yes. All of you will be born again today." Raising a hand, [Name] channels his magic as he smiles sweetly at everyone. His usual friendly smile looks more sinister with every word that came out of his mouth.

"To a world without sorrow where you don't have to lose your family, friends.. everything!"

.

.

The fight is not easy. Far from it. Never would they think that they'll be fighting the Prince of Briar Valley. Fighting someone as skilled as him is a nightmare in itself, but they've survived for this long.. and it seems that [Name] had enough as he engulfed the surrounding area in flames.

"Back off, you fool.. why be afraid? Even though a wonderful future is waiting for you. Now give me your hand, fufufu... hahaha!" Channeling another spell, [Name] smiles warmly to welcome this new era. One without pain and suffering.

"Spinning wheel of fate, keep pulling the thread of disaster. As King of the Abyss, I shall bestow this upon you."

"Fae of Maleficence."

.

.

.

.

The tune of the music box he received.. it's such a nice calming tune, yet so ominous..

.

Drip... drip.. drip... drip... drip.. drip..

The bustling life of Penacony... had come to an abrupt stop.. to embrace another dreamscape. One with no danger.. a safe heven..

A place where they all can live happily as all of Penacony is engulfed in thick thorn walls. Like a cage. "Don't worry... there's nothing to be afraid of. If you surrender to sleep, a thousand years will go by in an instant." The Prince stated with confidence as he calmly walked through the stage of the Theme Park in his new form. A form that he had embraced to fulfill his wish and grant everyone this wonderful gift.

"You all will become the main character of a fairytale."

It's a tune no one couldn't possibly be mistaken. Like a lullaby. Maybe those who sent him such a thing.. has the Prince's heart in mind. As he sang a lullaby to help them have a pleasant and wonderful dream. Following the tune of his invitation to this.. place..

"I know you.. I walked with you once upon a dream.. I know you.. that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.."

"And I know it's true, that visions are seldom what they seem.. but if I know you.. I know what you'll do... you'll love me at once..."

"The way you did once upon.. a... dream..."

[jimmyneutron877]

"Keep Dancing With Me"

• Pre War Cooper Howard x Reader! Fluff!

(Cooper and you dance together 🥺)

“C’mon Coop! Please just teach me even a little step, pleeeeease”

You and Cooper Howard have been together for a while now, since after he and Barb got divorced, and you had been begging Cooper to teach you the Western line dancing he claims to know.

“No- c’mon- its embarrassin’ please-” He refused you every time saying he was embarrassed, he was “too busy” or he “wasn't in the mood”, but he wouldn't get away with it this time, you wouldn't have it.

You left the couch with a Hm, and disappeared into the bedroom, this was automatically suspicious for Cooper as you’d always persist and plead, and then he heard it… Johnny Cash. He got up from the couch, put his paper down and started for the bedroom, but not before you appeared in the doorway, you gestured for him to come closer with your finger, and when he moved forward you did too, until you both met halfway.

“Cooper Howard, you are going to teach me a dance, or I'll make you” Your voice got low and serious as you looked into his eyes.

He let out a sigh, defeated, “Fine, gimme your hand, put the other on my shoulder” he took your hand with his and guided his other hand down to your waist and gripped it firmly.

You always loved his hands, they were strong and big, and you almost fit into them completely, your hand disappeared into his, like his hands were made for you, and he loved that too.

He showed you the footwork to one he called “Lori's Cha-Cha”, and the beginning was easy, however, you kind of bombed out anything after that, so you two just stuck to the beginning part. It was nice, energetic and intimate at the same time, you were both laughing for the first time in a long time. Johnny Cash was definitely the best pick for this dancing.

“Havin’ fun?” He teased with a smirk, flashing his teeth.

“Yes, I can definitely see you are, you've loosened up, your shoulders aren't as tense” You noted, sending a cheeky smile to him.

“Yeah yeah, whatever” Cooper rolled his eyes.

“Why didn't you ever want to show me before?”

“I don't know, I never thought you'd be so interested in it, I always thought it was a cheesy thing we always had ta learn in school” he spun you around gently and his hand left your waist for a split second before you came back around.

“Aw Coop, you don't have to be embarrassed about it, I love it, I'm always interested in you..I find it really charming, and what better way to woo someone than with your line dancing?” you teased the last part and he scoffed but he knows you meant the beginning.

“I’m sorry for always shovin’ you off before, I also thought you were kinda just teasin’ me ‘bout it” he said that and stopped for a moment, “Actually I'm sorry for not really payin’ attention to you much at all lately, things have been…stressful, and painful, but you didn't deserve the distance, I'm sorry” he looked down and the dancing slowed.

You watched and listened to this, it made your heart ache thinking of everything that's happened to him. You loved him more than anything, more than life itself, but most people took him for granted, and that hurt.

“Coop, look at me” you took your hands and held the sides of his face to make him look down at you again, “It’s okay, I know what you've been through, I know it's been so stressful and you've been hurting, but I'll always be here for you, I love you so much, more than words, and I'll stand by you for the rest of our life together, I love you”

You pulled him down and his lips met yours, he melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around your whole body, keeping your warmth against him. Letting out an exasperated breath, he relaxed and leant into you and your arms linked around his neck to further deepen the kiss.

When the kiss ended you two just looked into each other's eyes. His amber eyes radiated with the orange sky setting through the window, the green hints flickered like filtered leaves.

“You're beautiful you know that Y/N…” he said dreamily after a while of him studying your face too, “How did I ever deserve you?”

You smiled at his sweet words and gave him another kiss.

“I love you so so much Coop, now please keep dancing with me…”

A/N: Thank you for reading! It's been a while, but I absolutely love Cooper Howard/The Ghoul and the Fallout series, so here I am 😍

Do not borrow/translate/steal

[madaqueue]

Lost Cherry

pairing: yuta okkotsu x f!reader

themes/content: dark content. yandere/stalking. non-curse modern college au. language, smut. scent kink (?), alcohol consumption, drugging (no nsfw during), oral (f receiving), semi-public sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.8k

a/n: "i love this guy and whatever undiagnosed anxiety disorder he has" is my fav yuta quote i've ever heard and honestly...me too (and yeah this is based off the tom ford perfume what about it)

Yuta noticed everything about you. How could he not, when the essence of perfection, an angel reincarnate, was here before him?

He truly saw you, his dark eyes boring into your soul as he soaked in your every move, every reaction, every thought.

When you met him your freshman year of college you thought he was sweet, albeit a little strange, his intense gaze putting you slightly on edge for a reason you couldn’t quite pin down. But nevertheless he was always the perfect gentleman, holding every door for you, driving you to class when it rained, bringing you your favorite foods when you were sick. He did it without question, as though caring about you came second nature to him, like it was his one true state of being.

The two of you continued growing closer over the years, sleeping on each other’s couches when study nights ran long, going to concerts of a band you loved together, cooking your favorite foods. It was almost uncanny how similar you two were, sharing the same taste in everything, Yuta’s smile never faltering as you gawked at him in disbelief when he recognized the obscure reference you made or when he happened to guess your coffee order. “I guess it’s just fate,” he’d grin as you laughed in awe.

But it’s not fate, he thinks. Fate would never be so careless as to risk letting you slip from his grasp; no, it was him. Time and time again he outsmarted the universe, foiling its plans to separate you. He knows you because he sees you, understands you, in a way no one else ever will (he’ll make sure of that). It wasn’t hard, really - he was always naturally observant, calculated, patient. All he needed to get close to you was a few chance meetings, accidental run-ins, where he could show you just how much he cares about you. And you, being as sweet and kind as you are, fell right into his open arms.

He loves you because he sees you.

He sees the way your lips curl into a smile as you sip your drink from across a crowded bar, a slight frown forming across your features as some pathetic excuse for a man tries to speak to you, making an idiotic joke you politely laugh at; he sees how you fidget with your hands, pulling at the chipping nail polish during class, a tell-tale sign you weren’t understanding the material (and an opportunity for him to explain it to you later while you studied); he sees the way you move when you’re alone, when you think no one’s watching, when you finally let your guard down and ease into the truest form of yourself.

It’s almost like you wanted him to see you, presenting yourself to him like a book with the pages peeled open and the cover ripped off, making it impossible for him to look away. It was only natural for his eyes to wander the words of your soul, mastering the lines and sentences of what makes you you.

So it’s no surprise when he gifts you a perfume that perfectly encapsulates your energy, your essence. After months of searching he finally found one that met his standards, living up to his mental representation of who you are. He knows you’ll love it, and you do - you begin wearing it everyday, the sweet scent of your skin filling his senses whenever you step into a room. The warm, amber notes become equivalent to you, a signal of your presence, a smile gracing his lips every time it wafts by him.

The one thing he doesn’t tell you is that he bought a second bottle, just for him, his best kept secret, the cherished liquid that evokes vivid memories of your laugh, your eyes, your skin, your voice, your everything when he smells it.

It’s harmless, really, when he sprays it on his pillow to help him fall asleep, calmness immediately washing over him as he pictures you there, holding him. He could practically feel the warmth of your body in his empty room, imagining how your soft hands would trace his body.

And when he wakes up, the scent of you still lingering, a smile graces his face as he nuzzles into the cool pillow.

It’s not his fault when he grows dependent on it, spraying the liquid into the air as he screws his eyes shut, picturing you. The way you’d kiss him, how smooth your skin would be, how soft your lips are, how your hands would feel wrapped around his cock, how warm and tight your cunt would feel around him. As he slides his fist around his length, he can’t help but moan your name, the idea of you filling his mind.

You.

One word, all-consuming. You occupy his thoughts, cloud his mind in bliss, every waking second. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

So when he sees you at a house party, wrapping your arms around his neck as you go in for a hug, why the fuck do you smell different?

“New perfume?” he asks, trying to hide how visibly taken aback he is as he pulls away from you.

Nodding, you take a sip of the drink in your hand. “Mhm,” you hum over the music. “Friend got it f’me. Y’like it?” you slur slightly, swaying in his grasp.

“I-it’s nice,” he stutters, his fingers beginning to dig into your arms.

How could you?

Glancing down, he notices the nearly empty cup you cling to, mind racing as he formulates a plan. “Want me to get you another drink?” he asks, steadying his thoughts and tilting his head innocently, hiding the rage he feels behind his dark irises.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, lip gloss glowing under the LEDs, as your eyes lazily make their way up to his. Reaching out a hand you ruffle his hair, placing a sticky kiss to his cheek. “You’re s’sweet Yuta,” you murmur against his skin, holding your glass out for him to take.

This would be sweet, if it wasn’t for the vile, traitorous perfume that suddenly overwhelms his senses. It’s too floral, too dry, too not you.

“Be right back,” he purrs, placing a kiss to the top of your head before stepping away, afraid that if he stayed any longer he would do something he regrets.

Besides, he can’t pass up this opportunity: he gets to show you he can take care of you, how much he adores you, and get rid of the chance that anyone thinks they know you like he does.

When he returns, you don’t even notice the weird taste in your drink; why would you? You trust him, like you should. When your body starts to feel too heavy, legs struggling to keep you up, you lean on him, like you should. When your head begins pounding and you just want to lay down, you let him take you home, like you should.

In the comfort of your apartment, one all too familiar to him, he helps you change into pajamas before bundling you up under the blankets of your bed. You look so sweet, so innocent, as your head rests against the pillow, eyelashes fluttering as you ease into sleep.

Your mind is cloudy as you rest, body still pulsing with each beat of your heart, suddenly sensing his weight shifting from where he sits at the end of your bed. “Yuta?” you whisper weakly.

He could melt just hearing you call his name, your voice like honey. “Yes?” he responds, turning his head over his shoulder to face you.

“Stay,” you murmur, reaching a hand out to him.

God, he could die happy right here. He could afford a few hours of sleeping next to you, right? It’s not like there’s any urgency now, he’s already lined everything up, now he just has to knock it down.

“Okay,” he breathes, getting under the covers next to you.

The warmth of your body envelops him as you lazily wrap your arms around his torso, uncoordinated motions to keep him, your one source of stability, close to you. Your thoughts are fuzzy as you fade into Yuta’s softness, letting him overtake your mind. Shifting his weight he leans into you, head resting on yours as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you against him, the scent of your shampoo lingering on your hair, a familiar one, a kind one.

He waits until your breathing slows, soft snores leaving your throat as you rest peacefully against him. Gingerly untangling his body from yours he rises, making his way to your bathroom. Sitting atop your counter is the target of his task: the sacrilegious bottle of perfume. It takes so little for him to knock it off the ledge, glass shattering as it hits the tile, the strong smell suddenly overwhelming the confined space, making his stomach turn as he pictures you in it. Never again.

He softly pads back to your bed, careful not to wake you as he rejoins your shared warmth under the comforter. Overwhelmingly pleased, his heart races as a contented grin spreads across his face.

When you question him about it the next morning, it’s easy to brush off.

“Yuta?” you question sleepily after you return from the bathroom, “Do you know what happened to my perfume?”

Normally the frown across your face would haunt him, tugging at his heartstrings to see you unhappy, but now it takes everything in him to not show his excitement. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “maybe you knocked it over last night?”

“Mmm, probably,” you hum, settling back in next to him as your head rests on his chest, hoping you don’t notice how his heart races at the contact, your mind still too foggy to realize you never even told him that the bottle broke. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry I got so drunk, I don’t know what happened.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” he reassures, his arms reaching around you, “I like taking care of you.”

“Thanks, Yu,” you murmur, nuzzling your head further into the softness of his t-shirt.

It’s so easy, he thinks. Everything with you is just that, easy: it’s easy to make you trust him, easy to look after you, easy to love you.

So when he sees you a few days later, eating lunch outside between classes, it’s easy for him to go over and sit next to you, the grass tickling his shins as he crosses his legs.

“Hi, Yuta,” you smile, your cheeks slightly rosy in the sun as you lean your head onto his shoulder.

Before he can respond, a familiar scent hits his nose, the one that is so, undeniably, you. “You smell good,” he blurts out, unable to contain his excitement.

A giggle escapes your lips at the sudden compliment, the sound soft and sweet. “Thanks,” you laugh, “it’s the perfume you got me, so I’m glad you still like it.”

“O-of course I do,” he stammers, “I picked it because it’s perfect for you.”

Looking up at him, you don’t miss the slight redness covering his face as his adoration for you begins to slip through the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is continue giggling, the most angelic sound in the world echoing in his mind, as he melts before you. “You’re too sweet, y’know that?” you ask.

Popping one of the cherries you brought for lunch into your mouth, a comfortable silence falls between you as Yuta continues staring at you in awe - how could you be so perfect? He has to stop himself from nearly drooling as he watches your tongue work the pit from the flesh of the fruit, the way your lips move absolutely tantalizing. He has to have you.

Sensing his gaze, you turn to face him. “Want one?” you ask politely, holding the bag out to him.

As you shift the richness of your perfume again wafts towards him in the breeze, tearing down any remaining walls of shame or embarrassment left encasing his feelings for you. Suddenly he leans forward, one hand going to the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is messy, needy, as his tongue slides into your mouth. His body presses against yours, desperate for more of you, as you fall into the grass. His hands are everywhere, finally able to feel the one thing he’s been thinking about for years, as they roam your body.

Pulling away slightly, you breathlessly try to get his attention with a call of his name, but he doesn’t stop, only shifting his weight to kiss down your neck. Everything about you overwhelms his senses as he sucks against your skin, leaving a trail of bruises behind. His.

Your back arches off the ground as he moves lower, lips trailing kisses down your abdomen over your clothes as his palms grasp at your tits, your stomach, your ass, any part of you he can find, his touch hot. When he begins undoing the button to your shorts, a wave of panic overtakes you as you process what he wants.

“Y-Yuta,” you stutter, your hand reaching down to tilt his chin up, forcing him to face you. As he does, your face flushes at just how feral he looks, his pupils blown wide and lips parted as he pants expectantly.

“Please,” he whispers, “need to taste you,” his eyes moving back between your legs as he continues removing your shorts.

“B-but-” you begin, worried about the chance of being seen if someone were to walk past the small field you sat in, your gaze moving across the open space.

“There’s no one here,” he explains without looking up, sensing your nervousness. “I’ll make you feel s’good, I promise.”

Glancing around, you confirm the absence of any other students or professors, biting your lower lip nervously as you acquiesce.

Frankly, Yuta didn’t care if there was anyone around - once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He tugs your pants off, pausing only momentarily to admire the wet spot in your panties before pulling the flimsy material out of the way, his mouth attaching to your cunt. He moans as his tongue meets your folds, so much better than he could’ve imagined. The sound vibrating against your skin elicits a sharp gasp from you, your hands instinctively reaching down to his hair.

“Yuta,” you whine as his tongue glides up you.

God, he loves the way you say his name; he needs to hear it again.

His palms trace down your body to hold onto your thighs tightly, nearly leaving more bruises against your skin as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. Swirling around your clit he whines as your hips move up, desperate for more friction, his heart swelling at the idea that you need him just as badly as he needs you.

After years of loving you he knows just what to do, exactly how to move to make you feel good, his compendium of your body finally paying off. Slipping his tongue into you, another whimper escapes his throat as you moan his name. Bringing one hand down he roughly circles your clit with his thumb, using the exact pattern he’s seen you do more times than he could count, one he knows is guaranteed to bring you closer and closer and closer.

As your grip on his hair tightens, he knows it’s working.

His mind is flooded with you, your smell, your taste, your sounds, your everything. He loves it, he wants to crawl inside you and live in your heart forever, just like you’ve done with his. He wants to make a home in the corner of your mind, getting to see the most private and intimate thoughts you have that not even he could be privy to.

The only thing tethering him to reality is your soft voice calling his name, the most soothing rhythm in the world as your body begins to shake, heat building as you approach your release.

“Yuta,” you whimper, “m’close.”

Warmth spreads across his body, knowing he’s the one making you feel good, taking care of you, loving you, like nobody else ever could. His motions pick up, messily grinding his tongue against your cunt as you pull him into you. Everywhere he presses feels like flames, heat pricking over every inch of your body.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer as you come undone on his tongue, a series of whines reverberating against you from Yuta as he continues messily lapping you up, desperate for anything more you’re willing to give him.

When he finally pulls his face away from between your legs he’s immediately back on top of you, his lips pressing into yours with the same feral desire. His breath is hot against yours as you taste yourself on him, the entire thing overwhelming your mind as your body comes down from its high.

Pausing for only a moment, his eyes flutter open as he looks down at you, a gentle sheen of sweat across your features, grass surrounding your hair, cheeks a soft pink. Everything about you so, absolutely, undeniably perfect.

“Mine,” he whispers to himself, so quietly you nearly don’t catch it, before his lips are on yours again.

[luffyvace]

The Luffy Package ☠️📦

(General & relationship headcanons as well as Luffy quotes (relationship implied) for his big day!!)

had to go all out for my fav 😊🤭

General Luffy headcanons:

Luffy has nails so short dirt can’t get under it 😭

not necessarily the booty diggers 🤭

but just really short, like almost booty digger ig—but not it

he has like 1% nail

its not intentional, they just never grow

i have a feeling someone taught luffy how to dance

idk who

it was likely makino, shanks or some else he cares deeply about

but he learned early on and has been a great dancer ever since!

maybe at parties since they happen a lot in one piece ⭐️

But just because someone taught him doesn’t mean he was awful at dancing at first

maybe he was a natural!

feel the rhythm typa thing 🎶 🕺

it’d be funny if he was

cuz imagine a guy that can dance but can’t sing

how you gon dance on beat to a out of tune song?? 😭

at least to uta anyway

ive always loved Luffy’s singing‼️

he never thinks about what the one piece is

but would be the most disappointed if it isn’t something cool

this dude is NOT interested in books so if the one piece really is just joyboy’s tale i don’t think he’ll be satisfied..😭 (I’m talking about the theory)

he definitely wouldn’t say it was all for nothin tho

he still has nakama, treasure and is the pirate king!! 👑

but…the one piece as books is just a mega L for him

Robin will enjoy ♡

you know that thing he does where he stretches his face real big? Like the time he was tryna cheer nami up when she was sick? And it scared vivi and zoro?

he scared himself when he first realized he could do that too

he was bored and started messing around with his devil fruit

at first he was outside and he stretched his mouth, and when realized he could see inside it, he was like ‘I wonder what this looks like’

so he went inside and did it into a mirror

he somehow managed to trash the whole bathroom running away from his reflection

he quickly got over it and realized it was kinda funny

he showed Ace and sabo who also found it terrifying

then preceded to scare people with it ever since

d end! :)

I feel like he’s thought about what the ‘D’ in his name stands for too

He came up with a bunch of outrageous names that likely aren’t it..

”Dingus?”

”Donkey?”

”Demarto?”

”Doorbell?”

”Dinosaur?”

yeah, dinosaur seems the most plausible 😊

Luffy Dinosaur Monkey!

‘HEY THAT SOUNDS COOL 🤩’

yup, that’s probably what it stands for 😁

sneaks into the usopp factory whenever he’s not in there

he ends up playing with his creations and destroys, it, other projects, and the factory altogether in the progress

he then runs out laughing

usopp later returns to the ruins only to find his months work of his greatest creation yet named “ultimate captain usopp three thousand smasher” has been reduced to fragments of metal nothing ☺️

listen idk if oda has confirmed Luffy’s favorite color but I would say it’s none

why? The same reason why you can’t ask a toddler their’s, it’s just gonna constantly change and you know it’s not the truth

arguably, if I had to pick an actual color based off canon, (IK it’s a shade but wtv) it’d be white

why? wym? Don’t you remember that one ep where luffy sang a song about how he loves snow cuz it’s so white?

(one of his lesser talked about songs 😭💗)

Relationship Luffy headcanons:

Luffy as a partner is really rambunctious and loving

But do note that loving doesn’t always mean romantic

for him it means loving you a lot but not being lovey dovey when showing it

you need protecting? He’s on the case!! He can’t and he has to beat someone up? One of your nakama’ll do it so stay with them!

your strong? Perfect! He’s gonna go fight this guy so you go beat up that one!

why am I mentioning that? Because it shows he has a great sense of trust and faith in you

Of course he does with all his friends but your reasoning is different

not only are you his nakama, your also his partner!! Which means he loves you in a intimate way!! Not just platonically

I say “just” because I swear sometimes Luffy’ll feel like a friend with you (best friends and lover typa thing 💞) he’s just as goofy and chaotic with you as he is Usopp and chopper

he feels extra lively when around you and always wants to play, whether you like this or not. Your personality depends a lot on how your relationship with him is but I won’t dabble into that today because it’s his birthday. 🎉 but honestly it doesn’t matter if you punch him like nami or laugh like brook-

he’s still gonna bug you! 💖 seriously you can’t get rid of this dude 🤨 Luffy will drag you on every single one of his adventures so I hope your either brave or fearless like him. The only time you two separate and he allows it is when he’s fighting the boss type thing LOL. Like Doflamingo or smth.

that said Luffy isn’t clingy he just likes being around you and seeing what your doing. Especially when you haven’t landed on an island yet and he’s bored. He’s always singing, playing with your face (ironic cuz he’s the stretchy one) or trying to get you to play some silly game he made up

that usually somehow manages to tick everyone off. 🤷‍♀️

will grab your hands randomly and make you dance to some song he made up about literally anything he sees or feels

he even made one about YOU once :3

”OOOOOHHH your my partner! Yes my partner! We’re having lots of fun! Going on adventures- YAHOO!! And dancing a ton! We’ll dance all arcross the grand line!! Take your hats off and let them fly!! YIPPIE!! We’re having a graaaaand TIIIIIIIME!” 😁🕺

Luffy quotes: (implied relationship between you two)

”HEY LOOK DO YOU SEE THAT ISLAND!! Cmoncmoncmoncmoncmoncmon!! HURRY UP I WANNA GO EXPLORING!!”

”can you sneak in the kitchen and steal some food from sanji? I’m really hungry and he won’t let me in anymore!!”

”LETS HAVE A PARTY!!!” — “we don’t need a reason! CMON!’ CHEERS!”

”lets tame that thing and make it our pet!!”

”what should we name em?” — “Junpi? SOUNDS GOOD TO ME!!” (You didn’t get a chance to respond 💕)

”HEY LOOK A RESTAURANT!! Grab on I’ll rocket us there!! HURRY UP IM HUNGRYYY!!”

”hey! Do you have any food on you?? I’m hungry!”

”Liar!! I can smell it!!”

”take a bath?! I don’t stink!!— EUGH!- okay yeah maybe….but I don’t wanna take a bath!! I’ll get all tired!”

”I’ll leave you with that guy! So go kick some butt! I’ll deal with that red forehead guy!!” (AN: There’s no actual red forehead guy that’s canon, I made it up 👍)

”⁉️ HEY WHAT HAPPENED?! Did that guy beat you up?! I’ll send him flying!! 💢”

”Shishishishi! Shh! Watch this! I’m gonna drop this on Usopp’s head! 🤭😂”

”Lets play a gaaaaame!! I’m so bored! 😞”

”can I have some of your food?” *Already stuffing a piece in his mouth* (the point is it’s not the whole thing ⁉️😱)

”HE LOOK MY BOUNTY WENT UP!! 🤩🤩‼️“

”Isn’t this fun?! 😆” (having a near death experience)

”don’t worry! My injuries don’t hurt at all! See? I’m dancing! I’m having fun!”

”oops. Sorry.”

”look!” (Two chop sticks stuffed up his nose and mouth)

”WOAHH A MAN KILLING BEAR!! LETS GO CHECK IT OUT! 🤩” (even if you wanted to say no your already being hoisted over there because you weren’t running fast enough for him)

”plan? Never mind that!! Let’s go! We’re gonna kick that butt head guys’ butt!!” (AN: another fictional villain I made up on a whim)

”HOLD ON TIGHT” (Gum Gum Rockets with hardly any warning)

”let’s play a game!! It’s called steal zoro’s swords without waking up zoro!! 😁”

”nyop!” (Puts you atop his shoulders 💓)

”nyop!” (Jumps on your back almost knocking you over 💝)

”look at my disguise! Nobody will suspect us! 😎👍”

”Cmere!” (Pulls you into his lap)

”HI! Is it almost time for dinner yet?” (Plops down in your lap)

Thanks for supporting me and my work—as well as my random disappearances too 💗🤗

Everyone! Say it!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LUFFY‼️‼️

[perksofbeingpoet]

a small thing that is promised to calm todd down when everything gets too overwhelming is playing with or brushing his hair.

which, unfortunately, is way too intimate a thing to ask his friends for- they help as good as they can already, trying to be quieter when todd gets that very intense look, passing him food that isn't too spicy or salty, talking loudly when a teacher is looking for people to get up front to the board, so that they'll gleefully pick the loudmouth.

but this is different; involves a kind of gentleness, of vulnerability that todd can't ask for. it means baring the parts of him that are most sensitive, revealing he's a baby bird in thunderstorms, asking for whispers and warmth in a place that doesn't offer these things.

neil still finds out.

which shouldn't come as a surprise to todd - neil has a way of catching him where he's most vulnerable, closing his palms around him as if he was a ladybug in a child's hand. careful now, don't hurt it. i'll keep it safe. i'll carry it off the pavement, put it where the grass sprouts in may-coloured strands.

so neil finds out, when they're laying on todd's bed (better sun in the evening), neil reading the script of his newest play, todd just breathing, trying to match the tides of neil's heartbeat below him, trying to slow down his own. and neil isn't sure what happens, because to his mind, nothing's changed, but suddenly todd's eyes have that frozen panic in them.

neil thinks he can feel the way todd's drowning in his own thoughts, and todd's thoughts tend to be quicksand in these moments. it's desparation, in the end, that gets neil to bury his left hand in todd's hair, carefully weaving his fingers through the sandy strands. he knows it's silly, but the urge to physically wipe the thoughts off todd's head is what makes him lightly trace his nails across the other's scalp, gentle, always so gentle.

and todd melts.

his breathing slows, and suddenly he's back, and neil's heart flutters like a dragonfly drying off its wings. he can help. not much, not always, but he can try.

he soon discovers that it helps after showers, too - todd is embarrassed enough to snap at him the first time, the first time neil's heard him rashly angry, but it only takes todd a week to come back and apologise, to say neil was right, but could he not make a big deal out of it. (and neil perry, king of theatrics, doesn't)

because showers can be overwhelming in these times, when todd's mind is a bridge wobbling on brittle foundations- standing there all wet, knowing he'll need to get out the stall, and dry off, and get his clothes and put them on and they'll still stick to him a bit and his toes will stay wet because the floor is cold, and- it's too much.

but neil can brush his hair, still wet and darker than usual, and the scratch of it along his scalp grounds him, puts his thoughts on a leash. neil will hum a song, and todd will ache with the sweet cruelty of love, the stinging tenderness of vulnerability.

and when todd gets into bed in exam season, and the sheets are fluffy and full of fresh air, smelling of spring and melancholy, he breathes in deeply through his nose. and neil walks over to him for a second before going to his own bed, three extra steps that make todd close his eyes and bury his face in the pillow.

and he runs a hand through todd's hair, and it feels like warm notes on a cello. like autumn sun falling through tall tree trunks, like a mug of cocoa, like a childhood kitchen table. his fingers trace lines across todd's scalp, reminiscent of the contrails of the plane that divides the sky three years later, like neil is already dreaming of it.

todd breathes and smiles.

good night, little poet <3

(i put this on ao3 even though it's ridiculously short, so you guys know what that means- the time of poet writing dps fanfiction has started, and the next ones are gonna be way longer)

[nu-suave]

SO, WHERE FROM HERE? feat. getou suguru

word count: 2066

summary: you find suguru in your kitchen, months after his defection from jujutsu society. things go better than expected. a/n: sorry if the pacing is weird. i didn't want to beta read because thinking about beta reading reminds me of the assignment i have due in two days

“I hate him,” you say to yourself, alone in the bathroom as your fingers dig harshly into your temples. “I hate him, I hate him, I don’t like him. I don’t want to make friends with him. I don’t want him to apologise to me. I don’t–”

There’s shuffling in your kitchen. Seven minutes ago, there was a knock on your door. You’d known, since you messaged Suguru three weeks ago begging to see him, that he would show up sometime. Well, you hadn’t known, but you’d heavily suspected. He’d left all of you without a word months ago - Satoru, Shouko, you. It was like one day, he was there (albeit depressive and withdrawn) and the next, he was a wanted man. He’d killed a village of people. He and Satoru had a run-in so bad that Satoru still refuses to say his name.

He’s now sitting in your lounge.

Your hands are clammy. What do you do in this situation? You’d been so awfully lonely when you sent that message. All you’d wanted was your best friend back, to talk to him and understand his reasoning and see where he was coming from. Why he did what he did. If he really hated all of you the way Satoru claimed - if, despite everything that happened, he was still the Suguru you miss so dearly.

“I hate him,” you repeat dully. “I don’t- I don’t want to forgive him. I hate him.”

It’s not working. Shouko had told you that manifestation works wonders on an unsettled mind, but she was clearly lying. You don’t know why you trusted her word. She’s studying medicine, not psychology, and what tests she does take she only scores so high because of the cheating tactics she’s refined under three years of Yaga’s vigilance. You try once more. “I hate him.”

Yeah, it’s not working. Your mouth is thick with cotton, an awful churning in your gut that once, you would have mistaken for nerves. It’s still nerves, just not born from that vague fluster he’d incite in you. It’s dread, plain and simple. You’re terrified of things going wrong. Of him being unjustified. Of messing things up.

Not of messing things up, actually, because there’s nothing to mess up. You hate him, remember?

You kind of feel hypnotised as you step out of the bathroom, steps a slow shuffle and vaguely light-headed. Suguru looks different. He’s switched out the uniform he practically slept in for monk robes, and his hair’s been left to grow out. It was always long, but intentionally - now, his bangs aren’t carefully trimmed, his hair isn’t meticulously slicked back into its bun. He keeps it long, and down, falling prettily around sharp eyes.

Regretfully, he’s always been pretty. It’s not until now that you really find yourself wishing otherwise.

“Hi,” you say lamely, “sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry,” he replies, voice surprisingly warm. He’s got one ankle resting on his knee, your most recent book open in one hand as he skims the pages. “My arrival was surprising. I understand.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You hover in the lounge, watching him flip through your book as if nothings out of the ordinary. “Right! Do you want something to drink? Coffee?”

“I’m fine. I don’t know if I’ll stay long.” He turns his gaze to you as he says that, characteristically intense and yet unfamiliarly guarded. You settle awkwardly onto the sofa. “You said you wanted to see me.”

“Yeah.” Your words are too soft - you hate him, you hate him, you hate him. “I didn’t think you’d reply.”

“I was in the area.”

“Right.” Awkward silence lingers between the pair of you. “So, how have you been?”

“Fine. Better than I’ve been in a while.” He pauses. “I adopted two girls.”

“Oh?” Your heart thuds in your throat. “That’s nice. I always thought you’d make a good dad.”

“It’s turning out to be a harder challenge than I expected.”

You’re both silent once more. God, this is awful. “Hey, Suguru–”

“Listen, I–”

You shut your mouth. He shuts his. This atmosphere; stilted, awkward, like you’re strangers struggling for small talk instead of best friend’s of several years finally reunited. Well, he’s your best friend. You know you were always second place to Satoru. You try again. “Suguru.”

He replies with your name.

“I, um,” you lace your fingers together in an attempt to keep them still in your lap. “I just… I wanted to say- that is, um, that I missed you. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Before your eyes, he softens; his shoulders relax, his gaze turns languid, his uncomfortable grip on your book changes. It snaps shut, the soft sound echoing through the room. “I missed you too. You… you meant a lot to me. Mean a lot to me. I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye.”

“It’s okay,” you huff, even though it’s not. “I don’t suppose you being wanted was planned. Besides, from what I hear, you weren’t the nicest with your goodbyes to Satoru.”

He winces. “...How is he?”

“Not well. He misses you. We all do.”

Suguru hums.. He’s got the perfect voice for it; soft and lilting, a vague hum high in his throat. “I didn’t want to leave. I just…” he trails off.

“Take your time.” You press your laced hands down in your lap. Your arms are stiff against your side. “I, um, would like to know why you left. Why you took such… extreme actions. I wish you’d told me what you were planning. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed it.”

“It’s okay,” he says, about as honest as your own. “It’s okay. It’s just that… Satoru is on another level, you know? He’s the strongest - we can’t reach him anymore. I can’t reach him anymore. We can’t live off his ambition, and I finally found mine. I ended up struggling with it, with deciding what was right and wrong and how I felt about it.”

“About what?”

“About everything.” His eyes flutter shut as he relaxes into the seat. “Non-sorcerers… they have no idea what we do for him. I always thought we should protect them - that they’re weaker than us, so it’s our duty as the strong to defend them. But time passed, Riko - the star plasma vessel - died, Haibara died. It put a lot of things into perspective.”

You nod. Suguru doesn’t see it. He continues anyway. “Suddenly, I was asking: what’s the point in this? In any of this? Why do we have to fight and die and watch everyone around us be killed just for the safety of some… some monkeys that didn’t even know what we did for them? How is that fair to us?”

“Don’t call them that,” you say sharply. His eyes open, jaw flexing as he stares at you. “I never agreed with you on that, you know? It’s never been fair to us but it always felt patronising, the way you’d talk about non-sorcerers. Like they were so weak, you just had to help them because they’d be helpless without you.”

“Wouldn’t they be?” He asks. “Curses are born from their inability to control cursed energy. If they were all dead, there’d be no more curses. No more need to continue this, where everyone’s always dying for them and then those that don’t have kids to die in their stead.”

“I don’t want to fight with you over this. Why’d you kill that village?”

“For my girls.” Suguru’s lips purse, like he wants to continue what was clearly building up to be a fight, but he lets it go. His arms fall slack in his lap. “The village… they wanted to kill them. My girls are both sorcerers, and they picked up on it. They brought me in to exorcise them, and they were kept chained in this small, filthy cell. They were so scared. They hadn’t been fed properly and hadn't been able to shower in weeks. The leader was there, talking about how these two girls - they’re only six, you know that? - were a blight on the village and a bad omen, and they wanted to kill them. I beat them to it.”

How remarkably Suguru, to want to protect those two girls. He’s always been protective of his underclassmen at Jujutsu High, it’s no surprise he’d go this far. And yet, mass murderer. You remind yourself once again that you’re supposed to hate him. “So you killed them.”

“I killed them.” He confirms. “Witnessing that brutality… it makes it hard to feel any sympathy for non-sorcerers. They were like that after Riko, you know? Clapping endlessly at her dead body. Satoru asked me if we should kill them all. A part of me wishes he’d said yes.”

You nod slowly. It’s hard, biting down the immediate revulsion, the way it battles with your trust and affection. “I don’t think this is the right way to go about it, Suguru. The- the complete disregard for life among Jujutsu society, I don’t think the best way to go about fixing it is slaughtering innocent people. It’s kind of a, uh, systemic issue? Killing non-sorcerers isn’t going to stop the higher-ups from sending people to die.”

“What can I do?” He asks, rhetoric. “I’m already wanted.”

You reach out over to him. You hate him, you hate him. You miss him more. Your hand clasps his, half leaning out of the couch. He meets you halfway, and it dangles somewhat awkwardly in the air until you tug on it, gesturing for him to sit beside you. He does. “Yeah. You are. Do you regret it?”

“I don’t know. I feel happier.”

“Okay.” Your thumb rubs patterns into the warmth of his hand, running over the smooth ridges of his knuckles. You keep your eyes focused there, between you, rather than on his face. “I don’t agree with you, but okay.”

“Okay?”

Your eyes flutter shut, breath shuttering in your chest. His other hand moves, grasp fragile, to tenderly cup the back of your neck - to guide it into leaning against his shoulder. God, you missed him. You missed him so much it hurts. “Okay. I can… do you want to talk to Satoru again?”

“No.” Clipped, sharp, immediate. You suppose you’ll have to take what you can get. Feel like a bit of a monster, honestly, for not fighting him on it. “I can’t.”

“That’s alright,” you murmur, words pressed into the meat of his shoulder, cheek rubbing against the fabric of his robes. “Would you be willing to change? To not kill anyone else? At least for now?”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Why?”

“We can fix this,” you swear, even if you don’t know if it’s true. “We can resolve this, I think. We’ll find a way, if you want to.”

“Okay. But no Satoru.”

He’s not so far down this path that he doesn’t see reason. You couldn’t be more grateful. Before you sits Getou Suguru, mass murderer, your best friend. One of those titles holds more weight than the other. “No Satoru,” you repeat, “but you promise not to kill anyone else.”

“If I can help it,” he says, which is probably the best you can get. “And I’m not promising anything else. I don’t… I need to change things. I can’t…”

“I understand,” you soothe. You don’t, not really, but you will - for his sake, for your own, for the chance of your continued friendship. For what remains of the blossoming relationship you had before everything fell apart. “Just try. Please?”

He nods, the weight heavy against your skull.

“And I want to meet your kids.”

“What?”

“Your kids. They need someone aside from you in their life. I want to meet them.”

He huffs, the puff of air soft against your head. “You’re impossible.”

“This is my condition, Suguru. I’m meeting your girls.”

“Okay. They’ve been wanting to meet you, anyway.”

“You told them stories about me? They better have been flattering.”

“How could they not?” The words are tender, caressing the skin of your cheeks and settling deep in your chest. “Don’t be too nice to them. I want to come out of your meeting still the favourite.”

“Hard ask,” you reply. “I’m going to impress the hell out of those kids. Do they like Barbie, or are they more Monster High kind of girls?”

[amirasainz]

can you do more of baby!sainz crushing on lando and lando really likes it and flirt with her any time ++ carlos’s reaction

Of coure I can. This is a Part 2 story, so I would recommend reading the first part. My stories are usually seperate stories, however it was quiet fitting in this case. Btw, Carlos ec gf is mentioned, Isa I love writing requests for you guys and hope you enjoy reading my work. Let me know if you have any whishes! -XoXo

Three times when....Part 2

4. The Quadrant video

Ah, the delicate dance of family dynamics and romantic getaways—the kind that unfolds against the backdrop of sun-kissed beaches and whispered secrets. Carlos Sainz, the Ferrari sensation, had planned a romantic vacation with his girlfriend, seeking moments of stolen kisses and moonlit walks. And what better place than Bali to weave their love story?

But life, ever the mischievous storyteller, had other plans. A new Quadrant video emerged, casting its spotlight on the youngest Sainz sister. There stood Amira, flanked by Lando’s friends, Max and Keegan, her eyes fixed on Lando as he explained the rules of their karting challenge. Karting—a miniature ballet of speed and precision—would be their canvas.

Lando, the showman, draped his arm over Amira’s shoulder. His friend Keegan would take the wheel, aiming to beat Lando’s time. But first, Lando had to set the benchmark. As he zipped around the track, Amira’s gaze never wavered. Her words flowed like a river of admiration: “He is an amazing driver. It won’t take long before he takes his first win. Look how easy he makes it look.” Her grin was infectious, like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds.

And then, in a hushed whisper, she added, “Como un profesional.” Keegan and Max exchanged puzzled glances, their linguistic compass spinning in confusion. But Amira knew. She’d witnessed her friends’s journey—the sweat, the sacrifice, the hunger for victory. In that quiet moment, she held a secret: Lando Norris, the boy who’d captured her heart, was destined for greatness.

When Lando finally finished his run, he sprinted toward her. “And, what do you think, darling?" he teased. “Maybe I’ll be able to take you on a ride one day.” His flirtatious tone hung in the air, and apparently, it was working—because Amira was giggling.

Throughout the video, Lando would sweetly explain things to her while she had her whole attention on him. At the end, Max had to do the outro, because Lando was sitting in a kart with Amira on his lap. He clearly showed her things on the wheel, so he moved her hair aside and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"What the fuck did I just watch" thought Carlos to himself

5. The Spa crash

Carlos Sainz found himself in the midst of an interview when his eyes caught sight of his friend sliding across the treacherous Spa track. The Belgian circuit had claimed its share of lives over the years, and the rain only intensified its danger.

In that heart-stopping moment, Carlos’s mind painted worst-case scenarios. But then, relief flooded through him as Lando Norris responded to Sebastian Vettel’s thumbs-up signal and was soon escorted back to the safety of the team garages. Carlos wasted no time, ending the interview abruptly to ensure Lando’s well-being.

Yet, what awaited him upon his arrival was unexpected—a scene that tugged at his heartstrings. Lando stood in the rain, his little sister, Amira, by his side. Tears streamed down her face, and Carlos heard Lando’s soothing words: “I’m fine, darling. Nothing happened. It was just a little jump-scare. I promise, I’ll always come back to you.”

But Amira’s worry persisted. “How can you be so sure about that, Lando? What if—” she began, her voice trembling. Lando cut her off, determination in his eyes. “Hey, none of that, okay? It will take a thousand armies to keep me away from you, okay?” He waited for her nod, their bond unbreakable.

Carlos watched the scene unfold, touched by the depth of their friendship. He approached them, pulling them into a group hug, seeking solace in their shared connection. Together, they retreated into the warmth of the Ferrari garage, a sanctuary against the rain-soaked night.

Later, as Carlos settled into bed with his girlfriend, Isa, he recounted the events. “I didn’t know the two of them were such good friends,”he mused. Isa sighed, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “You truly know nothing, Carlos Sainz.”

6. DJ Lando

Ah, the nightlife—the pulsing heartbeat of music, neon lights, and secrets whispered in the dark. Lando Norris, the McLaren sensation, was no stranger to the DJ booth, spinning beats that made the crowd sway and lose themselves. Clubs welcomed him like an old friend, and this weekend was no exception.

But amidst the thumping bass and swirling lights, something shifted. A new presence graced the scene: Amira, Carlos little sister. Her usual decline to join club outings had become a predictable pattern, making Carlos’s job as the protective older brother straightforward. Yet this time, she stood there, defying expectations.

And what a sight she was—dressed in a short dress, high heels elongating her legs. Lando kept her close, his arm around her waist or fingers tucked under her hairtie. Carlos’s attention zeroed in on them—the way Lando leaned in, whispering things in Amira’s ear. Her cheeks flushed crimson, embarrassment or amusement dancing across her face. What secrets did they share? Carlos couldn’t fathom, and it gnawed at him.

Lando’s proximity to his sister grated on Carlos’s nerves. Why was he so close? What did he want from Amira? The frustration simmered, and Carlos’s annoyance grew. Why hadn’t anyone clued him in? The club’s rhythm pulsed around them, but Carlos’s mind spun with questions. Perhaps it was time to confront Lando, to unravel the mystery that danced between them.

[aesethewitch]

Ghosts 101

Spirit work has always been the ultimate base of my spiritual and magical practices. Some of my earliest clear memories are of encounters with spirits, and I’ve always had a talent for sensing them. In a horror movie setting, I’d be that person who gets the weird feeling in the hallway right before all the doors slam shut at once, feeling the shift in the air before whatever ghoul’s around makes its mischief.

I mention this right out of the gate so that you, the reader, know that most of what I know about ghosts (and spirits in general) comes from personal experience. Not books, not videos, not other people’s work. There’s a lot of UPG in this little essay. Just keep that in mind as you read.

If there’s something you disagree with or have different experiences with, I’m not surprised! Everything in the realm of spirits, including ghosts, can really only be theorized about. Disagreeing opinions, experiences, and theories are very, very welcome. Drop ‘em in the replies, reblogs, or my inbox. Or, if you want, make a post of your own and tag me in it. I want to see them!

Anyways, with that lengthy UPG disclaimer out of the way, let’s get to the good stuff.

What is a Ghost?

I think it’s important to note, though kind of obvious, that ghosts are a sub-category of spirit. All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. But what is a ghost, exactly?

As with most things, theories differ. In general, ghosts are thought to be… well, dead people. Some folks think that ghosts are the soul, essence, or spirit of a person who has died. Others believe that ghosts are just a fragment of a person’s spirit. But I’ve also seen theories stating that ghosts aren’t really ghosts, they’re echoes or imprints of human energy that once existed in a place.

Then, there are folks who think ghosts don’t exist at all. I can’t really blame them; empirical, repeatable proof of ghosts is tough to get in order to be satisfying in a scientific way. The only reason I personally believe in ghosts is because I’ve had several encounters that can’t otherwise be explained. Plus, for me, it goes hand-in-hand with other types of spirit work. Ghosts being real just makes sense with the framework I use to engage with the world.

So, obviously, there isn’t one single, concrete answer as to what a ghost is. We can only theorize.

My Theories

My personal theory aligns more or less with one of the more common theories. I think that ghosts are the lingering spirits of living beings who have died. Note I say living beings — some people think that only humans can become ghosts, but I think that any living thing can become one. In the case of plants and trees, ghosts behave somewhat differently than animals; but that’s a whole other conversation to be had. For the sake of this post, I plan on focusing mainly on human ghosts.

The way I understand it, ghosts are the whole, complete essence of a person that lingers in the physical realm for a time after their physical body no longer functions. I believe there are also energetic imprints — energy left over from the living, often (but not always) caused and fueled by strong emotions and lingering ties of memory in a place. These imprints can seem like a haunting, but the key difference is that they aren’t sentient. They may echo when you call, but they won’t give answers that are intelligent or timely according to questions asked or stimulus provided by the living. Sort of like recording a ringing bell; playing the bell’s chime back doesn’t ring the bell again. It just plays the sound it knows.

Now, death does funny things to the mind. Depending on the circumstances of the death, a ghost might have full awareness that they were alive, have died, and are now a ghost. I find this is most common for people who died of old age and long-term diseases: people who knew they were nearing the end, for one reason or another.

Ghosts formed from more sudden deaths, on the other hand, are likelier to not know what happened. They may figure it out given time, or they may never learn the truth. As with most other things dealing with individuals, the exact circumstances vary. No two ghosts are exactly the same. Some people don’t become ghosts at all, I’ve found! They simply move on.

Another important aspect of my theories on ghosts is that I think they fade. Unless they’re continually tied to a space, fed a steady supply of energy, and purposely kept in the physical realm, I believe that they can’t sustain a form here. Without a physical body to keep the spirit, soul, consciousness, or whatever we are, a ghost is gradually pulled into the more ethereal side of things. The astral plane, the other side, the afterlife, et cetera; I’m not sure, personally, where they end up. Maybe it depends on what they were attached to in life, maybe it doesn’t. Who knows!

I think this is where I draw the distinction between ghosts and ancestor spirits. “Ancestor spirits,” in my practice, aren’t individual people from my past. Rather, they’re a sort of collective consciousness made up of all the people who came before me who are connected to me through familial, cultural, and blood ties. I like to believe that ghosts become part of that collective when they fade out of the physical world. All this is to say, ghosts are just people who are dead. They won’t be around forever unless they’re bound and kept “fed.”

On Hauntings

The first half of the things everyone wants to know is: How do we know when a ghost is actually present? It’s a good question, one that’s hotly debated in ghost hunting circles. For the sake of argument, I think we need to define the word haunting first.

To be clear, a haunting isn’t just when a ghost is present. A ghost just passing through or lingering for a little while doesn’t necessarily make a haunting. That would be better described as a presence. A haunting, in my opinion, is a long-term, sustained presence of a ghost or imprint.

And the first step to dealing with a haunting is to determine whether the place you’re in is actually haunted. You don’t have to have super sensitive psychic powers to detect the presence of ghosts. Some folks might have an easier time of it than others, but anyone can learn how to discern when a ghost is hanging around.

It’s important to note that commonly-reported signs of ghost presences and hauntings are also symptoms of other issues like mold, electrical issues, pressure changes, carbon monoxide, stress and anxiety, noisy neighbors, animals outside or in the walls (including bugs), sleep apnea or insomnia, and more. It’s important to consider mundane reasons before leaping to magical, spiritual, or ghostly ones.

With that in mind, let’s say that you’ve ruled out all the mundane possibilities, and you’re still left wondering whether that place is capital-H Haunted. How can you tell?

In my experience, there are a few signs that will stick out:

Disembodied sounds, such as voices, knocking, and walking

A pervasive chill or prickling feeling, particularly on parts of the body that are covered

A feeling of being touched, poked, or prodded

Visual disturbances like mist or shadows

Sudden smells that can’t be explained, such as perfume, tobacco, or food

Batteries in things like phones and cameras draining very quickly

Now, note that even with these signs, a lot of these things can happen with spirits that aren’t ghosts. The only way to know for absolutely sure that you’re dealing with a ghost and not a mischievous, physical-realm-poking non-human spirit is to make contact and ask.

My fellow sensitive individuals may experience other signs during a haunting. Depending on where your abilities lie, you might experience stronger sensations or detect signs of a haunting earlier than others who haven’t trained these senses.

What Causes a Haunting?

It’s hard to say. Some people (particularly ghost hunters with big TV shows who need to make those viewer numbers go up) say that ghosts stick around because they’re pissed off or had some tragedy befall them in life. Trauma ties them to their surroundings, trapping them between life and death as a specter, or something like that.

Honestly, all that tells me is that these guys are trying to sell you something (their show). I’ve met maybe two ghosts that were like that, and they had extremely good reasons for it. That’s not to say there aren’t traumatized ghosts out there; just that they aren’t nearly as common or the only explanation for a haunting.

I’m personally not sure what causes some ghosts to linger over others. I think it does partly have to do with emotion, but it may also have to do with the amount of energy the person had left when they died. For example, the ghost of my great-aunt faded within a couple weeks after she died, because she was old, tired, and ready. On the other hand, the ghost of a guy I went to school with who died in an accident a few years ago is still lingering on the train tracks where it happened. It’s an extremely individual thing.

Another part of lingering ghosts and hauntings, I think, is interaction with the living. Without a physical body, the ghost has no native source of energy. Part of working with ghosts, for me, has been learning how to share energy (mine or from other sources) with ghosts to help them communicate, interact, and continue existing. When the energy runs out, they fade. With a steady supply of energy sources, a ghost could theoretically haunt a place indefinitely.

So, what causes a haunting? I don’t really know for sure! What causes a haunting to linger? A steady source of energy, I think.

Making Contact

So, you want to talk to a ghost. Cool! You’ve got a ton of options at your disposal.

There are the witch-typical methods of spirit communication, most of which would work fairly well for talking to ghosts. I’ve talked a little bit about spirit communication methods before in a more general sense, but I find that ghosts don’t always respond well to divination.

In my experience, simpler tools are better. Unless I knew for a fact that a person understood tarot in life, I would be unlikely to use it to talk to their ghost. Tools you can easily explain that provide clear answers would likely serve you best for most ghosts. My biggest suggestions are pendulums, which are easy for ghosts to understand and manipulate, and ouija boards. Yes, yes, I can hear the gasping and booing already.

Listen. Ouija boards are not evil. Ouija is a game. But talking boards really are good tools for talking to ghosts. Again, they’re easy to understand and manipulate. Plus, you can get really clear answers from a talking board if your ghost is chatty.

There are other tools that have been popularized by ghost hunters that may come in handy, too. Personally, I’ve had success with voice recorders catching EVP (electronic voice phenomena) and, on one notable occasion, a ghost box.

Honestly, I’ve had little use for tools like these outside of ghost hunting scenarios where we’re trying to prove ghosts’ existence in a scientific sense. Voice recorders catching wisps of voice in the background are super cool, and I definitely would suggest having one on hand when doing a ghost adventure. But they’re not great for in the moment communication, since you have to stop a recording to listen back to it and then react who knows how long later.

Where ghost boxes are concerned, I’ve only had the one opportunity to try it out. We were in a location I knew to be haunted thanks to previous visits, and it did seem to work okay. I’d like to try it again sometime to see if it was just a fluke or if it’s an actual, viable thing to use. With any tool commonly used in ghost hunting TV shows (or that’s otherwise Popular By Spectacle), I always approach with serious skepticism. Those shows are all about creating a reaction that can be captured; and when they don’t receive a response, they’re liable to make shit up for the cameras. It’s annoying, especially when a tool might really be useful but it’s shrouded in the very necessary skepticism around these shows.

Now, my personal go-to method to connect to ghosts is to just… talk to them. I don’t usually need to use any tools for it. But I’ve spent many, many, many years honing the skills needed to do this. It’s worth learning how to do if you plan on working with spirits, but it does take effort to get good at, even if you have an innate talent for it. If you can, take some time to develop a sense for spirits. Learn what spiritual presences feel like for you. You may not get immediate results at first, but the skill of sensing energy can apply across the board. And even if you get no “real” response, you can still talk to the ghosts.

When you go to communicate with a ghost, just remember that they’re still a person. They’re not a spectacle, though they are fascinating. Not all ghosts are going to want to talk to you. Not all ghosts are going to like you. Be respectful. Treat that ghost like you’d treat any stranger out in the wild. Don’t be an asshole.

On Mediumship

This is mostly just a brief note, since it’s an adjacent topic that I’ve gotten questions about before.

Not everyone who talks to or works with ghosts is a medium. A medium is a particular career or path that describes someone who acts as a connector between the living and the dead. I tend to think of mediums as the telephone in a conversation — relaying messages back and forth. I used to do medium work all the time. It’s an exhausting path that requires a lot of self-discipline and solid boundaries dealing with both the living and the dead. I don’t do it anymore, though I do still communicate and work with ghosts regularly.

Just keep in mind that you don’t have to take on the title or mantle of “medium” in order to talk to, work with, or research ghosts.

Ghostly Q&A

I received a handful of questions about ghosts in the run up to posting this; thank you everyone who sent in a question! If you’ve got a question and want my perspective on it, feel free to drop it in my inbox or in the replies/reblogs of this post.

From @moonmargaritas: “How do you tell the difference between nervousness at discerning the presence of a ghost (new practitioner who still gets jitters 🤙) and sensing actual hostile intent?”

This is a really great question! This is something I had to work through myself when I got started. And honestly, I still get jitters sometimes many years later! It can be scary, even when you’re used to it.

The biggest piece of advice I have is to learn how your body experiences nervousness or anxiety. Where does that sit in your body? What kind of feelings to you experience?

For me, nervousness is a sort of itchy tingling around my shoulders and tightness around my ribs. It also manifests as the feeling of being watched or observed too closely. It’s easy to misattribute those feelings to a ghost’s presence — tingling and feeling like something’s watching? Those are classic ghost interactions! But I know that’s what anxiety feels like. That’s how I feel when the lights go out too fast or I hear a branch snap in the distance.

Once you know, you can work past those feelings and focus on what’s actually happening with the ghost (or spirit). I think of it like knowing when someone’s mad at me. Are they mad, or am I just anxious? It’s the same idea.

And, as a note, ghosts with hostile intent are few and far between. I personally don’t think that most ghosts, even the nastiest ghosts, can actually hurt you; they don’t have the energy resources for it. The ones that do are obvious, and you won't really have to question their intentions. However, you can always work with the communication methods mentioned above to determine the ghost’s feelings and intents. If you’re worried about negative interactions, a bit of salt and rosemary in a little pouch placed in your pocket goes a long way for protection.

From anonymous: “What’s an unusual way people could use to communicate with spirits? Like an expected divination tool or something we should pay more attention to.”

Hmmmm! Honestly, I think that classic, actual call and response is underrated specifically when it comes to ghosts. Yeah, we’ve all seen the Ghost TV Guys call out for a knock or a word or whatever, but when they get a response, they wig out and don’t do anything with it. It’s annoying!! Because genuinely, saying “tap once for yes, twice for no” and asking questions is a really, really solid way to communicate with a ghost when you have no other tools that will work on hand. I’ve had ghosts lead me to important places and objects within houses doing this. I think more people should give it a try without falling prey to the over-the-top reaction of “DID YOU HEAR THAT?!”

From anonymous: What advice would you give someone dealing with a haunting?

For a run-of-the-mill, regular old haunting? Let it run its course. Most hauntings, when left alone, will fade. However, if you’re inclined to talk to the ghost(s), get them to leave quicker, or get them to be less intrusive in your life, there are a few things you could do.

To talk to them, choose a method of communication and try to reach out like I described above. Get to know them if you can, and set some ground rules. If they won’t (or can’t) communicate with you, and you really want them gone, I would probably recommend a gentle banishing ritual. Something that doesn’t scream “get out” so much as kindly say, “It’s time to move on.”

Or, if you don’t want the ghost gone, just a little quieter at night or out of your bedroom, you could set up wards or activity-dampeners around specific spaces. Choose ingredients and spells that protect against unwanted spirits or just unwanted activity. Keep it activated all day long or just at night while you’re trying to sleep.

Thanks for Reading!

Posts like this are usually put on my Ko-Fi as exclusives first, but since the questions in this one came from Tumblr, I decided to post it in both places at once! (:

With that said, if you did enjoy this post, consider throwing a couple dollars at my tip jar. Tips, commissions, and shop purchases get you 30 days of access to my entire backlog of exclusive posts and upcoming ones. Monthly members get continuous access plus extra benefits! All support helps me keep the lights on, so it's very much appreciated.

If you've got Ghost Questions, shoot 'em my way! My inbox is open.

[rainbowsky]

This is not a question, but a reflection. With this BF story, I thought a lot. And I think that as French, I don't have the same point of view. I was especially shocked by these words: “he must be educated”. France has a deep colonial past. and I thought: "we must educate these ignorant Chinese? but who are we to think that we are better and superior? we who today have so much hatred for them?" Each country has its point of view depending on his history. no need to respond if you don't want to. And thank you for your always respectful and thoughtful publications.

This is in reference to a previous post.

Bonjour lyndariell, j'espère que tu vas bien. ☺️

This is a perfect example of what I was saying about this being a very complex issue with a lot of different perspectives and angles.

In order to make sense of and come to terms with this issue we each need to find the right balance between upholding our own values and respecting the values of others. That's bound to be a tricky process because we're each coming from a different region, with different backgrounds, experiences and perspectives on the world.

Each of us will have a different degree of empathy and alignment toward one or more of the various stakeholders in the situation as well, based on our own experiences, interests and values.

In other words, it's complicated.

It is true that for some people, hearing so many white Westerners say that a Chinese man half a world away 'needs to be educated' on any topic might legitimately feel distasteful and wrong. There is this Western conceit that our values and way of life are superior and obviously correct, and that other nations are just 'behind us' in heading toward the same goals*.

*Although the same is also true going East to West.

It would be totally understandable if some people were to reject the Westerners' characterization of this issue and say that the choices that led to blackface being used in this film are not our choices to make. After all, the filmmakers are telling a Chinese story to a Chinese audience, and they know best how to go about that.

Fair enough. But...

Speaking of colonialism

While we're on the topic of colonialism shouldn't we also be talking about China and its role as a neocolonial power in Africa? As I said in my previous post, it's not really fair for us to look at things solely from our own perspective and in the context of the cultural environment we are in rather than considering the cultural environment this film was made in.

Have you heard of the Belt and Road Initiative? Actually you don't need to answer that question, because almost every turtle has definitely heard of it. GG sang a beautiful song in celebration of that initiative not that long ago, complete with a video highlighting some of the major projects involved.

I didn't post that video on my blog, but you can watch it here. All the bridges, trains and other infrastructure you can see in the video are projects from the Belt and Road Initiative; China investing across Asia, Africa and other regions to improve transport and trade (and to build on China's power globally).

I'm no @potteresque-ire, so I'm not going to break it all down in a meticulous, intelligent, well-cited masterpiece, but you can learn a bit more about it here. There are also countless online articles, papers, analyses, critiques, accolades, etc. from every possible angle out there if you want to dig deeper.

Some of the core strategy of the initiative involves proposing massive infrastructure projects in poor regions, loaning them the money to make the projects happen (loans in the billions), and stipulating that the contracts must be completed by Chinese companies. Resulting in countries with shiny new railways and hospitals built and paid for by the Chinese government and Chinese corporations, with these countries massively in debt to China for many decades to come and with deep trade ties to China.

Depending on who you ask, Belt and Road is either an exploitative, environmentally disastrous neocolonialist power/resource grab, or it's an innovative unifying effort to improve the lives and trade of its member nations.

I personally feel its a bit of both.

Whichever it is, it does have a very dark side. There have been many stories coming out of these regions, telling about slave-like working conditions and horrific abuse from the Chinese contractors toward their African workers. I made the mistake of researching this and let me just say that what I've seen cannot be unseen. There is a reason people make snide jokes about the "belt" in Belt and Road.

And that's just the Belt and Road Initiative. There are a lot of other Chinese individuals and companies going into regions across Africa to take advantage of the people and resources for their own monetary gain. I posted about one such example the other day.

So in considering imperialistic attitudes it's only fair to reflect on what it might mean for a Chinese person to wear an African ethnicity like a costume, in a country that is frequently racist toward Africans and which is thought by many to be exploiting African nations with a form of neocolonialist debt slavery.

Particularly when said costume leads to a massive increase in the amount of racist posts on Chinese social media, and with a tone of raucous mockery and disdain.

We should consider the impact of this film on Chinese attitudes toward Africa and Africans. Based on what I've seen on Weibo, in various articles and on international social media it seems like there is a strong colonialist 'white savior' narrative coming out of this film; glorifying China as swooping in and saving these helpless Africans.

Taken alongside the horrible racism of Chinese audience reactions to the blackface, I don't think looking at it through 'the other lens' gives us a prettier picture.

If the primary category of people who are not offended by this tends to be audiences who are reacting with racist mockery, then a deeper reflection needs to happen.

All that aside, DD isn't working in a vacuum. He has been actively cultivating an international audience and working closely with international brands. He doesn't have the luxury of ignoring Western values if he wants to continue down that path.

And let's not forget that the culture he's so enamoured of is black American culture. If he loves Western hip hop culture so much it would behoove him to better understand and support the people at the root of that culture. The people who literally made it possible for him to find and enjoy that culture.

DD is a good person at heart. I feel that participation in cultural harm is beneath his dignity, and not something he'd consciously choose to do if he had a better understanding of the impacts.

When it comes to culture clash and differences in values it's also important to remember that while everyone is free to make their own choices about what they say and do, so too is everyone else free to make their own choices about how to respond to what that person says and does.

DD is a massive star, so his behavior and choices go far beyond his own cultural environment. It's inevitable that some people are going to have different takes on it all.

And I don't feel like people are telling DD what to do, so much as they're talking about what he needs to do in order to maintain their support. They're drawing out the boundaries of what they deem acceptable as fans. From there everyone has their own choices to make, including DD.

My own position

Here's the thing: I've come under loud, vehement fire from black fans for not taking a strong enough stand on this issue, while some other fans feel I'm being too hard on DD. Now you're saying I should consider the colonialist angle and reflect on whether it's even appropriate for me to think DD has anything to learn.

I can only ever be myself, and speak and act from my own values. I will always think for myself and take my own positions, no matter how unpopular they are and no matter how harshly people attack me for it (and they have).

I am capable of holding multiple conflicting perspectives in my heart and feeling compassion for them all.

I empathize with black people who ***for fuck's sake!!*** have been so thoroughly fucked over on every level and in every possible way by people around them who just don't get it about racism. Who just don't get how deep and broad and far-reaching it is and about how soul-destroying it is to live in a world where this shit is normalized.

I can't even begin to imagine how hard it must be to be a black fan who loves DD and then see him in blackface, and then watch all the fans try to gloss over it as though it doesn't matter.

I empathize with Chinese fans who are in most cases probably not at all ill-intended, whose reactions came honestly even if they were jarring to Western fans, and who have mostly found this story and its telling both exciting and moving.

I empathize with diaspora fans who are having to deal with a whole bunch of sanctimonious lectures about who DD should be and what he should think, say and do.

I empathize with the filmmakers, who after all were probably just trying to give an accurate retelling of something that actually happened in real life.

I empathize with DD, who was likely doing what was requested of him and probably didn't realize that it would turn out to be so controversial or negatively impact so many people.

Anyone who can say with a straight face that they think DD would ever intentionally or knowingly do something that would be this controversial or that would be hurtful to so many of his fans can KMA. That's not the kind of person DD is at all.

Blackface is a huge deal here in the West, and even people in this region are constantly getting it wrong. How can we expect people in regions where it's not traditionally been a big deal to do better than people here who are steeped in awareness*?

*And before anyone says that cultural relativism is such that only people in the West really think blackface is wrong, why not try talking to some of the African fans who've been deeply upset by this?

This is what it is to live in the world. Life is complex, and people are messy. Like I said before; nothing is black and white. Everything is a million shades and hues. As much as people will try to oversimplify the issue and try to intimidate us into taking 'their side', or try to punish and attack us for not doing so, we can only ever live by our own conscience.

No matter how much pressure I come under to condemn one of the individuals or groups I listed above, I will refuse to do so. My conscience tells me to be compassionate and understanding to all of them, and that everyone is always doing their best.

I hope and believe that our differing opinions can coexist. We can disagree and still be friends, as long as we remain open to accepting one another, and as long as we respect each other's right to our own conscience and values.

Merci pour cet échange d'idées intéressant. 💛.

[hypersonic04]

Fresh Out The Slammer: Part One

circa 2019. ross is 29, its the notes era. imagine graham norton ross. there's a lot of waffling because I feel like I need to get back into the swing of writing, and also set the scene because this is going to be three parts! so apologies for that. i've missed you all so much and i'm just glad to be posting something for the first time in ages. i hope you're all okay i would love to hear what you've been up to in the, like, five months i've disappeared into the abyss for. I'M WAFFLING AGAIN. sorry. okay. fresh out the slammer! enjoy. i'm nervous. okay.

Word Count: 2,848

Part One: 'Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you.'

Who were you supposed to call on nights like this? The question seemed to be the only thing your brain circled back to as tears streamed down your face, a sob caught in your throat, heels harsh and loud on the pavement, even over the chaos of muffled bars. Your 28th birthday, stood outside a club that you were probably too old to be at in the first place, phone vibrating with 'where r u???' - who were you supposed to call?

Your birthday didn't feel very worth celebrating when you looked back on the year you'd had, your freshly shattered heart stinging as a very raw memory of being walked out on a week earlier seared itself through your memory. He'd always been a dickhead, the kind of boyfriend who'd told you that he was the best thing to ever happen to you, or that the whole writing thing wouldn't work out, but what did you have if you didn't have him? He'd been a pillar in your life since, well, forever. He'd shown you your favourite holiday destination, your favourite wine, your favourite book - were you just a product of him? The thought panicked you. No, you were cool. You had loads of interests, and friends, and hobbies.

The one thing he'd not shown you was something you'd kept a secret from him.

Your favourite band.

Even now, your stomach twisted as you recalled him and your youth, nights tangled up in bed sheets and clumsy hands on sticky dance floors, the mere thought of his recurring aftershave sending a wave of nostalgia over you as you perched on the ledge, lighting up a cigarette. It'd been years since you'd spoken to Ross. Now that you thought about it, it was probably around the same time Charlie had come on the scene, private-schooled, 5'9, biology-studying Charlie. You'd ignored Ross' messages inviting you to their gigs out of guilt for Charlie (his ego would have been well and truly tarnished), reluctantly un-followed him on Instagram when there'd been questions asked about him, tried to pretend that there wasn't an invisible tattoo of his hand prints at your waist, the memory of his fingertips forever stained in your hair, remnants of his kisses on your starving lips. Nothing has ever come close to Ross, and you'd be lying if you said that when Charlie had been away for work, you'd replayed the reels of your nights together in your mind.

You looked at the time - 3:17.

His number probably wasn't even the same as the one you had in your phone.

You leaned your head back, looked up at the sky, squeezed your eyes shut. There's no way you were about to do this. He probably thinks you're a weirdo anyway, cutting contact like he'd been a random one-time snog in a club. He might not even be in the country, for all you knew, with his world-famous band and world-famous records and most likely world-famous girlfriend. You'd not thought about that up until now - his girlfriend. Perhaps non-existent, probably existent. Jealous curled up your spine, a sick feeling settling in your stomach.

It was like your hands weren't your own as you scrolled through your contacts, brain on auto-pilot and suddenly feeling 20 again, stood outside a bar at university, ringing him to come and get you. The picture you'd set all those years ago was still the same somehow, and it made you swallow heavily - his head pressed next to yours, hair swooped to one side and probably wearing a Hollister polo. You both looked so young. It stopped you in your tracks, almost. You thought of how different things could have been if you hadn't ran away from everything, panicked and settled down like you thought you'd wanted, let him go on tour with the band and forever have the 'what if' hanging in the windows of your newly-purchased house with Charlie. What a success that was.

You pressed it and waited. It rang. And it rang.

As if you'd thought he'd pick up. It probably came up as an unknown number. You felt daft as you held the phone to your ear, tears stinging at your eyes again. The only person you'd thought to call.

Your stomach dropped when the ringing came to a halt and you could hear crackling.

And then his voice. Sleepy, low, tired.

Familiar. Warm.

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" he repeated as you stood in silence, lips pressed together at the sound of his name down the line.

"Ross," you managed to choke out, running a hand through your hair.

"Is everything okay?" he sounded concerned and you could hear his footsteps across what sounded like a hardwood floor, pacing.

"I just..." You looked up again, swallowing. "I'm so sorry."

"Y/n/n? What's going on?" Coming to a halt, his voice softened.

"I'm in Manchester, and I guess I'm kind of lost? I don't know, it looks different than it used to, and I'm on my own. I don't know why I called, you're probably not even here, are you?"

There was silence from across the line for a second and you squeezed your eyes shut. If he didn't think you were crazy before, he definitely did now.

"No, I'm here. I'm in my flat." He said softly.

"Oh, right," Your head was spinning. "I'm sorry for bothering you, I just-"

"Whereabouts are you?"

You breathed in sharply.

"I'm not sure, it used to be that bar we went to every week, but it's changed now, it's a kebab shop, I think." You glance at the neon sign, voice shaky.

"Are you staying in a hotel or anything? I can order you an Uber, or-"

His voice crackled down the line.

"I was, but I've lost my friends, and I've had a drink and I can't call Charlie and I don't know what to do." Your throat feels tighter when you say it all out loud. "I don't know, I called you because it was the only thing I could think of, but it's fine, I can-"

"Stay there," you can hear him moving around, "I'm leaving now."

It felt like an eternity between him hanging up the phone and arriving, perhaps because all you could do was think about how you've ended up here.

The car pulled up slowly and your stomach dropped, the window rolling down and his smile visible as he ducked his head.

It was like your feet were frozen to the ground for a second. His lips curved at the sides, hair messy and just as dark as you remembered it, but his eyes were older. They creased at the corners a little, slightly darker, a bit more tired. It wasn't just you who'd been trying to figure things out since you graduated, exhausted by the demands of post-graduate existence.

"Just move that, sorry." he mumbled as you opened the car door, throwing an empty water bottle onto the backseats. His eyes seemed immovable for a second, like he was having the same thought process as you. You felt intensely vulnerable for a second, and suddenly remembered the ladder in your tights and the mascara stained cheeks that faced him.

"God, it's been so-"

"I've missed you-"

You both started at the same time, an airy laugh escaping as you let the silence consume you.

He started the car without another word. It took everything in you not to stare, or cry, or say how much you'd missed him and how sorry you were that you'd abandoned it all. Instead, you kept your gaze forward, drinking in the streets you'd traipsed as a student.

"We're here." he glanced at you, pulling up outside an apartment block.

"Oh, you didn't need to bring me here, it's okay, I think there's a Premier Inn up the road." You furrowed your brows at him, shaking your head and starting to rifle through your bag. "I've got my card, it's fine, I-"

"It's fine." He said with a slight smile, shaking his head. "You can stay at mine. 'Will be nice to have the company."

You smiled at him softly, in the way you might smile at a cashier or your boss. It felt strange, transactional, like maybe there was a void between the two of you. You'd put it there.

"Thank you." You said quietly, following him out of the car and up the steps.

The lift was creaky and you closed your eyes for a second, the tiredness hitting you. The past two weeks had been a lot, and you'd thought a night out might fix everything.

His flat was just as you'd expected it to be. Records and CDs and books on every available surface, a scattering of guitar picks, some empty mugs, a weeks' worth of unopened post.

"Is it just you that lives here?" You asked as you stood awkwardly in the kitchen, watching him as he put the kettle on and grabbed two mugs. A Macclesfield FC one, and a souvenir one from Germany, it seemed.

He nodded with a hum, glancing at you. "You can get comfy, it's fine."

The fluorescent kitchen light felt exposing as you slid your heels off, placing them neatly by the door with your bag. He handed you the cup of tea promptly after and you followed him into the living room. It was spacious, yet the sheer amount of stuff everywhere made it feel lived in.

"Why couldn't you ring Charlie?" he asked after at least five minutes of the two of you pretending to watch whatever random Top of the Pops repeat that BBC 2 had shoved on for the 4am slot. He looked at you intently, but his tone was calm, simply wondering.

"We've split up." You looked down at the mug, mouth drying out. "About a week ago."

"I'm sorry to hear it." He said after a beat, looking back to the TV.

"Don't be." I shook my head, lips pursed. "Wasn't as good as it seemed, all that house-owner, engaged shit."

His gaze softened, but you could sense his sadness for you.

It's strange, to sit in a room with someone you once slept with on the regular, thought you were going to marry, like people do when they're 19, and feel like you know nothing about them. You could mentally draw him, the identical placement of the birthmark on his right hip, the exact colour of his eyes, yet you couldn't identify which bedroom was his in this flat, or what he'd had for tea the night before.

"I'm sorry for calling you at this time." You said meekly, looking back at the TV.

"I was awake anyway, it's okay." He glanced at you. "It was nice to see your name on my phone."

"I'm sorry for not calling sooner, then." You corrected your earlier statement, watching as his lips tilted into the oh-so-familiar smile your fingers had traced over countless times.

"I missed hearing from you."

"I missed hearing from you, too."

The silence was deafening, almost claustrophobic as you inhaled deeply. His eye contact faltered, skitting back to the TV, blinking heavily. You wondered what he was thinking, whether memories of you under him were also still as fresh in his mind as if they'd happened yesterday.

He downed the last of his tea, sitting forward.

"There's a spare room across from mine, down the hallway. Feel free to get a shower, use some of the clothes in those drawers, whatever you need."

"Thanks." You placed the half empty mug next to his on the coffee table. "Do you have any paracetamol or anything? I can't really hack hangovers anymore, even if it is just a couple of cocktails."

"Could you ever hack hangovers?" He teased as he stood up, walking into the kitchen. You blushed - so he was thinking about those mornings, too.

He handed you the box to take to bed with you, showing you the bedroom.

"There's a clean towel in the bathroom," he pointed to the on-suite, "I'm just in here if you need anything." His neck craned to look into the bedroom behind you, pointing to the bathroom and drawers, but you could only look at him. His tan skin, his tousled hair, neat, tidy beard, the chest hair that poked from the top of his t shirt.

Standing across from each other in the hallway, you could see into his bedroom. Light green sheets, a book next to his bed, a pair of jeans thrown over the end of the bed-frame. You wanted to know him again. To know him, and his life, and his body. Charlie was superficial - his lavish proposals, extravagant holidays, Instagram posts declaring you as 'the love of his life' and lonely nights spent waiting for him to get back from a boys night out. Ross was everything. He was 'picking you up at 3am', remembering how you liked your tea after 7 years apart, dark eyes and curls and haphazardly strewn clothes and empty beer cans on bedsides and you.

"Thank you, again, for letting me stay over." you looked up at him, his gaze already fixed on you.

"It's not a problem."

A second passed before you turned on your heel, a shaky nervous hand reaching for the doorknob.

"Night," You said, with a small smile.

"Night."

You closed the door and watched his turn away, broad shoulders disappearing into the opposite room.

The shower was hot, steaming up the bathroom, as you turned it on. You'd dug out a stripy t-shirt and some joggers you could roll up from the back of the wardrobe.

You tipped your head back in the shower, letting the hot water run over you. The shower gel lathered against your skin, and it felt symbolic, to be washing away the day, the thoughts of Charlie, the fake smiles of your fake friends in fake, pose-y bars. Ross had always felt real to you, the realest thing in this city. He'd been brutally honest with you when you'd needed it, soft with you when he knew he had to be. The memory of your fight flashed into your mind - the last day before you went back home after graduation, tears in his eyes, down your cheeks, raised voices and a final, slammed door. Your eyes opened quickly as you remembered how you'd told him you wanted stability, not to follow his 'silly band around the world'. You hated yourself for it, even now. He's been hurt, like it had meant nothing to either of you, the way you'd got into your car and drove back to your parents with blurred vision, Car Seat Headrest blasting through the stereo as you fled the scene.

You thought about him laid across the hall. Was he wide awake? You tossed over onto your side, duvet pulled up to your neck. It must've been about 5am. You willed yourself to just fall asleep. The sound of floorboards creaking forced your eyes open, but they hushed as soon as they'd chorused through the flat.

The smell of coffee was the thing that roused you from your sleep. So I did sleep, you thought.

His back was to you as you entered the kitchen, the rustle of the TV and clanging of utensils echoing off the walls.

"Morning," You yawned, smiling as he jumped and turned to you. His gaze trailed up and then back down for a second, the sight of you in his clothes clearly taking him by surprise.

"Did you sleep okay?" He smiled. His hair was flat on one side, sleepy eyes, crinkled t-shirt. You nodded, heat rushing to your stomach at the sight of him. "Did you?". He just hummed in reply, pouring water in the mugs.

You sat and ate scrambled eggs on toast. You talked about work. You discussed the rugby, each other's siblings, old uni friends. It felt comfortable, and right, and you had to catch yourself when you stared at him for too long and began to picture doing this every morning.

"We leave soon, though."

"Leave?" You asked, sipping your orange juice.

"Yeah, for tour." He looked up at you from his plate. "Next Wednesday."

Next Wednesday, for tour.

You felt silly for thinking your lives would be sewn together seamlessly, that you would fit into his world like you'd never left.

There wasn't much conversation after that, and it was like you could read his mind for a second. He'd said that to warn you, to prepare you, because he too was imagining this as a constant. This wasn't going to work, and you both knew it. You wanted it to, desperately, and when you left his flat that morning, your eyes welled like they had that fateful day in 2011.

You'd hugged him tightly before you'd left, his arms around your waist firmly, yours around his neck. He was going away for a year, touring the world, and you were going back to your mum and dad's, because where else could you go?

[separatist-apologist]

What are your thoughts on the possible ACOTAR show?

Like, what are some things you're hoping to see or not to see?

Any fancasts for characters?

Personally I had always imagined LoA as Annie Wersching but she passed away last year.

I think I'm in the minority of people who do not want this show made, especially with live actors. I'd be more on board with animators/animated style but even then it's like...I don't know. Not everything needs a netflix/hulu series and I just don't trust it to be done well or faithfully (or be allowed to continue beyond a second season).

I am just pretending its never happening and choose to know as little as possible about it

[ambeeuk]

Ineffable duo always saving each other

So those pair of idiots are always doing things to save and protect the other one. Sometimes its just outright saving, sometimes its something dumb like protecting the other by not telling the other something. And lets face it they would both risk destruction for each other.

But have they thought about what that would mean? Aziraphale would do anything for Crowley, do anything to save him. But has he thought about what would happen if that got him destroyed? What would Crowley do if Aziraphale was taken away? Well we saw how distraught he was when he thought Aziraphale was killed when the bookshop was on fire. And that was just a short time of thinking he was gone. And what would Aziraphale do is Crowley was gone? He could hide in his books for a bit, but I think he would be like those dogs whose owner dies and they just fade away.

They both just see it from their own point of view. That they want the other to be ok no matter what. But at no time do they see it from the others point of view, how lost and incomplete they would be if they lost the other. They are two halves of a whole, one without the other is broken. I hope in s3 they get to see and understand that better and how doing crazy stuff is sometimes not the best option. I just hope they get their eternity together doing crazy stuff and the fanfic goes on forever. Yay for AO3 and fan made youtube videos

[chdarling]

Ommggg I have so many thoughts on the new chapter I don’t even know where to begin!

I love the consistency with Snape’s twisted morality. Just like later, when he’ll beg Dumbledore to save only Lily, here he’s only concerned with protecting Lily, other innocent students be damned.

The reveal that Lily had been spiked with Felix makes so much sense in retrospect. I even remember thinking that she was so optimistic as soon as James sent Snape away, and thought it must’ve just been James. Excellent foreshadowing.

now I can’t stop thinking of all the things that happened because it was “lucky” for Lily??? Like suddenly needing to send Mary a letter so that she’d overheard Aisha and Florence, and instigate Flormes’ breakup by revealing the James dad thing! And how Sirius and Graham were right in the blast but unharmed. And did she say she was going to the bookshop so someone would rescue Arabella?? So good.

Sirius listening to Lily fret about how he specifically must hate her because it’s her fault that James is hurt as Snuffles is so sad. Like it’s sort of messed up that he’s doing this but it’s also so… sweet? He knows Snuffles brings her comfort in a way Sirius can’t. I can’t stop thinking about what Lily’s going to feel when she realizes this whole time Snuffles has been Sirius. I think at first she’s going to be betrayed, but after the dust settles I think she’s going to realize how much he’s sought her out to comfort her without ever once revealing what she said to anyone, and that will go a long way for their friendship.

UGH LILY NO JUST KISS HIM ITS THE RIGHT TIME I SWEAR.

Jammessss she’s not with Graham!! She never was!!! She only was bc she was sad about YOU you idiot (Me, & Sirius probably)

Such a masterpiece. Thank you for writing as always.

Heheheehee. 😈 Writing all the little ways the Felix made Lily lucky and the consequences of that luck (and those yet to be seen…) was genuinely so fun. And hard. But mostly fun lmao.

Thank you so much for this lovely message ❤️❤️❤️

[midnight---hollow]

Ok i need to yap for a second

I love how well written and thought out the ipc is in honkai star rail. I feel in general we dont always get the best discussions about capitalism and giant corps because said giant corps are usually sponsoring or are creating them most of the time so there is usually bias. I just saw some of the boothill story lore leaks and im not gonna talk about them here cus leaks but it gave me real big appreciation for how the ipc is handled.

Im personally a real big fan of complicated situations in my fictional stories. Ever since mob psycho ive gained a new lens of trying to find sympathy and reason for any situation, keeping my own opinions and preferences while still understanding the other side. I feel star rail has done a great job at show casing the many sides of the ipc even if i for one really dont like the ipc and its my least favorite organization

(I feel i should also say this is an opinion piece and im not informed enough on the real life issues as i would like to be. I just want to yap my opinion out and express why i find joy in this and maybe even come back later with more research to make another post but with references and proof to explain why besides what i remember and like. If i do get anything wrong then please inform me cus i would like to learn more about this and plan to)

|Spoilers for basically all the ipc related things in hsr|

I started out hating them cus i just dont like capitalist corps and they just rubbed me the wrong way. When the arum alley event happen i was originally pissed at it because even though it was confirming my beliefs of “big corp bad” it felt cheap and like almost every other story told by a big corp trying to tell us big corps are bad. Yknow the “look at this obviously in the wrong guy dont be like him, look at him get his comeuppances in the end and ignore how we actually are alot more complicated and worse than this super evil and obvious example”

arum alley then did something i didnt expect. It gave nuance to the story. It started out with that obvious example yes but the next one wasnt that obvious, the next part of the event talked about how some workers feel they wont be able to sustain their lives as independent workers and feel they need to work for the big corps for a safe job and it started getting into the logistics of big corp vs independent business. Yeah we where fighting them but there where reasons and concerns and fears to be given. It wasnt just big corp bad it was “yeah big corp bad but here is why and here is also how its good” and it brings up the questions on what can be done so we dont need to rely on big corp

Topaz and her whole arc is another situation i find interesting. Topaz is a character i dont care to much about to be honest but i think she plays a good role in this whole ipc debacle. To me she feels like she represents someone who used the system because they needed to and made it work and flourished in the system. Her planet was basically unlivable and she lived in a capitalist waste that failed. In comes the ipc and they are almost what her world was but better for they offer to help and save them. All they need to do is sign their lives away to join the ipc and they did and their planet flourished because of it. Topaz herself was able to rise the ranks into being a cornerstone. I think her story shows both the light and dark of the ipc because they saved her planet but they only did it because it benefited them, if they didnt sign their lives away it is very likely topaz and everyone on her planet would have suffocated from the toxins and died. They had no choice but to join the system and its stated in game that topaz’s planet is one of the few that where able to be saved.

That’s probably what i like most about the playable ipc characters, it reminds us that these big corps arent just mustache twirling bad guys, it reminds us there are people there just trying to keep going and some of them are genuinely trying to do right and think what they are doing is right. Again topaz for example, she genuinely believes what she was doing was for the good of belabog. She saw a planet so similar to her own and i think she did what she thought was right and tried to help them (i dont think what she did was right but i can see where she comes from in thinking its right) i also think its showing that when she learned their was a way out for belabog that allowed them to not give their lives away to the ipc she gave in and stopped trying to convince them. She risked her own job security to allow them that right and because she didnt force an entire planet of innocent people who just got out of a horrible situation to sign their souls away (including the children mind you) she got demoted. Im not saying that she deserves a pat on the back for doing the bare minimum esp after she tried killing us, she is a rich, a conerstone, owns an exotic pet that she throws into battle and design her gun after, is a high member of said capitalist big corps, im just saying this is a very nuanced and interesting situation that i like to think about because there are so many thoughts and arguments

The whole belabog vs ipc thing was interesting in general for me because i think it was just such a good concept to bring forth the conversation of the goods and bads of big corps. Technically the ipc does have the right to want their century old debt repaid (ignoring the fact we later learned the robots where never used i think idk the end was confusing ngl) yet also at the same time we as people have a hard time siding with them when belabog didnt even know they where in debt because they where so isolated because of the stellaron and they just got out of the stellaron crisis and are trying to make their world habitable and yknow survive. We cant blame them for being unable to pay a humongous debt when these where the same people who stood in awe as march shower them a photo of their planet that she took while on the express. It creates a situation where yeah technically the giant corp has a right to take that money because its theirs but its still feels so cruel to make them have to cough it up right now with only a few days time. Belabog is basically forced to sign that deal because there is no way they could have payed that off they where doomed the moment topaz set foot on the planet. I remember talking to each of the people in belabog and getting their opinions on the matter and constantly having to rethink my stance because there where so many good points for why they should and so many for why they shouldnt. I can go on and on about this but this bit is already to long.

Aventurine!!! Aventurine aventurine oh where to start. Unlike topaz i actually like aventurine alot he is just such a well written character but we arent here to talk about how amazing him and the games writing is we are here to talk about the capitalist cooperation he is a cog in. Aventurine in a sense has a similar story to topaz but its more cruel and less happy. The ipc didnt save him, the ipc what going to arrest him and its thanks to his luck and a deal with the devil (or in this case a bet with a snake) that he was able to become aventurine.

I havent seen the writen stuff for him in his characters story because i dont have him but i will say from what i saw during the main story, something i question alot is what the ipc did during the avgin genocide. This might be a small tangent but the avgins said they had the support of the ipc. What happened that caused for the entire avgin civilization to be wiped out when they had the help of people with better weapons and armor and equipment. Apart of me is nihilistic enough to think the ipc didnt really care for saving the avgins and might have used the katakans attack as a way to know out the two groups that where causing them the most trouble but at the moment i dont know if theres anything supporting this theory so its just a crack theory

Aventurines spot in penacony is again interesting. Penacony is a prison planet of the ipc, that was taken over and turned into a party paradise thanks to the hamrony, family, and a stellaron. Aventurines goal was supposed to be to put penacony back in the ipcs control and to be honest i cant tell if thats his plan or not because of how crazy and confusing the story was (i loved it) but that being said it is another example how how grey ipc is. It isnt just a big bad corp there are people with lives and in avens case, people trying to gain their freedom with any risks necessary. I also think again the ipcs role in penacony is like belabog, very interesting, just for different reasons.

Penacony is based off America and in this case im assuming the ipc is their Britain. I feel like if you ask most people they would say that the ipc is the only group in penacony they hope fails (minus aventurine again i feel everyone wants aven to succeed even if we want ipc to fall) but i think the family being as grey as they are (basically a cult and also a representation of newer day amarica and its “its us or them” mentality in a way. I can make another yap ses about that lmao) adds an air of mystery and confusion on who we want to succeed since they are on two very different sides of the board so if one wins the other loses. It makes it feel like a fight of two big corps against each other and not really knowing who to support. Do you want to support the capitalist or the cult, pick your poison. We need the rest of penacony for me to go more in-depth on my opinion of ipc here and to rant but i can say its already making me question and argue both sides with what we have seen so far

That was fun for me. I havent ranted on tumblr in a long long time but hsr has been my recent hyperfixation and again boothill makes me crazy. While writing this is made me start to think about how much i wanted to talk about the hidden story of immigration i feel penacony is aso trying to tell. I think penacony is handling so many deep and interesting topics and im very excited for the next update. This has made me hyped to talk about the immigration stuff but i want to do reaserch and gain a proper strong stance besides “thats just my opinion.” I think this is an interesting topic and yapping about it made me want to do more reaserch on the topics of capitalism and big corps cus i hate them but i also think its important to know about it and understand there is more to the issue than just stingy old white rich people. I havent even gotten to jade yet. When we learn more about her imma have some words prob

Srry this was long but anyways cant wait till boothill comes out so i can get him and his light cone

[skyartworkzzz]

COTL Headcanons ramble

Felt like sharing these in case I take a long ass time to draw it out These are still raw in my mind, so some things may change futurely or the way I explain it might not make sense BUT ALAS it is fun to ramble

SO WATCH OUT FOR THE LIST UNDER THE CUT!!

Before Narinder was banished, a feeling of mistrust was already growing amongst the siblings, and one of the reasons for such a thing involved envy (except for Shamura, I like to think they were above finding themselves lower or greater than anyone) Ever since a young age Narinder has always been a fast-learner, and quite skilled at everything he did. Gardening, fighting, cooking, strategizing, he was good. Definitely not perfect, but alarmingly good So as time went by, the Bishops grew colder with him until he eventually turned against them all, and thats where their feeling of envy turned into fear. For both of their own lives and their brother's, because that's when they realized his "flawless" abilities were always and clearly prone to turning him into the monster he then became (smtng like Anakin Skywalker if the image I have of him in my head makes any sense-) Naturally, a feeling of guilt lingers in them for not having been able to see it sooner and stop it, but as Shamura pointed out after Narinder was sealed, this was meant to happen. He was meant to be a monster, and a really good one

Aym and Baal were secretly given to Narinder by Shamura; they performed a ritual by themselves and killed the kits to send them to the Gates. When the brothers arrived, Narinder reluctantly took them in and naturally grew fond of the twins as time went by, but because they were sacrificed as offerings, Aym and Baal were half-immortal (something like the Lamb once they receive the Crown), meaning that they still had mortal needs such as eating or sleeping At the time, Ratau was serving Narinder as the bearer of the Red Crown, and amongst the rat's adventure, the god of Death eventually introduced the red chest we use to sell things for gold. He would request Ratau regularly to send in meals and fish in order to feed Aym and Baal (and I feel like a genius for coming up with why that chest exists hi-) When the kits were finally fully grown and well-trained, they ascended to Divine Guardians of TOWW and officially started serving him Despite their Ascension, Aym and Baal were never trapped into the Gates, so they were able to visit the world above but as ghosts of sorts (which means only a few ppl would be able to see them). It was through these ghostly travels that both were able to learn who their mother was and watched her from afar when not serving TOWW

The Bishops were once mortals before becoming bearers of the Crowns, a long time to ago, meaning that they likely have a life they no longer rememeber For the funs and giggles of it, I like to imagine that this "long time ago" for them was around the times animals still did not wear clothes nor knew how to speak aside from their respective noises AUHAUHASDJSD ALSO POSSIBLY LESS HUMANOID I like the thought of them looking either much more beast-like or just- tiny. Very tiny. As the animals they are AUHAJMDKADS

The Lamb doesnt know how to do SHIT aside from fighting. Im writing my Lamb as an artist in my Death After Life fic for the sake of the angst, but in actuality, they do not care about art that much. I like to think that they'd prefer small silly doodles over full-blown paintings, but if they do put in the time and effort, they manage to make smtng Mona Lisa-esque. So the skill is there, but they prefer to not use it unless for smtng specific. Its like those kinds of hobbies nobody knows u have til u make smtng CRAZY yk This also goes for cooking, except they are truly a Terrible cook, in modern AU Lambert lives off from cheap pizzas and dollar-stored cupnoodles u cannot change my min-

Leshy is the one who'd soften up the most for me. Obv still a fcking GREMLIN but I think he'd be much more considerate than his former self My guy would go from "kys /srs" to "kys /j" ALSO I like to think his and my yellow cat's love language is gifts and/or acts of service, theyre oftenly pampering each other out of the blue <3

This idea is still in the approval stages but.............Shamura remembers a bit of their pre-Bishop life. A bit. And that bit revolves around the fact that they might have known love in the past. Perhaps a romantic one, Im still not sure- Which now that I think about it would make the most sense as to why theyre so forgiving to Narinder, since the Bishop of War would probs want anything but peace with those that wronged them, unless they had a good reason not to cause havoc immediately............