#it always gets spilled on and still lives

[celiime]

inspired by die with a smile by bruno and gaga! ^^

thinking about how satoru’s death contradicted his own words, carrying no meaning when he found himself dying beside his, you, his wife.

“when you die, you die alone.”

satoru didn’t know how he’d come to swallow these words the second he found himself dying—with his sweet wife beside him, holding his hand through it all—he always held a belief that death doesn’t scare him.

at least, not when his beloved was right next to him.

the blood gushing down his cuts, his body split in half, each half parted from the other, blood a blinding red color bubbling from his lips, making its way down the side of his face. even to a sorcerer as strong as gojo satoru, it would have still been a scare, to die like that…

however, he found that he couldn’t feel any of that. no fear was in his system, no shred of concern, no worry. it was all just solace. he felt no pain, no guilt, no regrets.

everything seemed to float away as soon as his wife’s lips settled upon his sweaty forehead—marred with blood and cuts—soft and warm, reminding him of that same kiss you gave him just this morning.

“satoru…” a soft mumble of yours, so fleeting, almost lost to the own blood spilling out of the cut—where you lost your arm.

his eyes blinked drowsily at you, barely mustering the strength to focus on your arm—or well…the empty socket of what it used to be. despite himself, his heart clenches painfully at the sight of you like this, so weak and battered up…couldn’t you die in a less painful way?

his injuries didn’t hurt, his cut up body didn’t hurt. what hurt the most was the sight of you, the sight of you all cut up and marred with blood that shouldn’t be on your precious features.

oh…his precious baby. still doting on him even as they’re both on death’s door.

you had always loved him as if it’s the last time you will ever get to show your feelings, always hugged him so tenderly, as if he’s close to withering away. Your kisses were always so gentle, slow and passionate, taking his breath away.

and in turn? he gave everything to you. satoru promised to himself that he would give you anything you asked for, just a simple bat of your eyelashes and he would destroy the world for you.

he loved you as if it’s the last time he’ll get to love you.

and he will continue to love you, even as death precedes. death won’t separate him from his beloved.

“look at…you…” his voice, barely croaking out, was as soft as ever, “an…angel—“ a cough left his throat, choking on the blood leaving his mouth—

his heart warmed as you shakily smoothed your bloody palms over his face, half lidded eyes carrying worry in them.

“are you…coming to—to take me to heaven? heh.” even in his near death state, his delirious state, losing blood by the gallons, he still found it in himself to crack a small comment—to comfort his beloved bride.

satoru never believed in the after-life, but ever since he married you…he found himself wishing that there is one, so that his time with you will be endless.

a shaky chuckle left your lips, thumb smoothing over his cheekbones, “no, idiot. i’m—“ you gasped, feeling your body throb with the pain, “going with you.”

“wherever you go, that’s where i’ll always follow you, toru.” you had uttered the day you confessed your fear of losing him.

you knew it was the end. you knew there was no more living after this. no more seeing your students in the morning and greeting them, no more stressing over missions, no more…fighting curses.

your teary eyes studied your husband’s features, bleary gaze fighting to focus—to memorize his features even after you were in your own grave.

did this mean no more seeing your husband too?

oh, you were going to be sick. just at the mere thought.

satoru—the ever so strong sorcerer that never wavered—found tears welling up in his own eyes, breath hitching at the absolutely precious look on your soft features.

god, how can you be this pretty even while all marred with injuries and blood? how could you be this stunning even through his delirious eyes?

he hoped he would get to see that face in heaven. if the gods pitied him enough, surely they would.

they would pity this absolutely smitten man, so pitiful and pathetic in the face of his undying love for his wife.

because, even as you both were dying, blood seeping through both of your injuries, staining the ground with red—you were holding his hand, sitting next to him as you waited for the blood loss to finally grasp your soul.

you spoke true to your words, you truly did follow him—even to death.

his precious wife. his beloved bride. his world.

for his last breaths, he used them to pray to the gods, to beg and plead for him to see you in the afterlife. to grant the wish of a smitten man.

dying was not so bad, death is peaceful and serene, especially when the last sight he saw before his fluttering eyes was the soft smile of his wife—oh so delicate and full of love, the faint feeling of her forehead on his own being the last thing he felt.

“thank—you for…loving...” his last words, not meant to be a goodbye—but just in case, right? what if the afterlife did not exist? “m..e..”

“i’ll continue loving you.” you smiled down at your husband, feeling his chest stutter with a final breath beneath your weight, before it completely stilled. Your misty eyes fluttered, pressing the tip of your nose to his, stealing one last act of intimacy before eventually fading into darkness.

even death can’t snuff down the love you have for eachother. Nothing, no force, no strong force can stop you from loving eachother.

“you were soooo sappy!” a giggle left your lips, pink and plump, no signs of blood on them, both arms intact—evident in the way you had your arms wrapped around one of your husband’s toned arms.

a whine left his lips, “you’re such a hater! so what? i cant confess my love to my cute little wife? especially when i thought i wouldn’t see her pretty face again?” he huffed, looking down at you with a pout. no blood on his one face, either.

you stilled—

your big baby. your smitten husband. oh how you loved him.

“true…” a small hum left your lips, relishing in the way his free hand seemed to rest on your head, “thank you for loving me…satoru. even in the afterlife.”

your husband was the one to pause this time, her eyes rounding with surprise, heart stuttering in his chest—feeling his breath completely leave his body at your earnest confession of love.

“oh, who’s the sappy one, now?”

oh, how meek did his wife sound? he wanted to hold you for as long as the afterlife was eternal.

“but…i’ll continue loving you. wherever you go, and no matter what happens. ‘kay?”

the gods granted the request and prayer of a smitten man.

can’t believe i finished writing this heh!! this is a little something something…i’ve been so fixated on gojo’s death lately, and him as a whole…and bruno and gaga’s song just sparked up so many ideas!! i hope u guys enjoy!! a bit of a continuation—? or alternate ending to this!

[tragedy-of-commons]

"You're burning up" + Aventurine?

"You're burning up."

Aventurine doesn't know what else to say, so he goes with those three words. Safe bet - the doting parents in all the movies and sitcoms say it just like that; with care and worry, palm splayed out across the ill's forehead.

And holy hell are you ill.

Collapsed on his lavish sofa, you groan in response, swatting his hand away. "I'm gonna be just fine..."

He's inclined to disagree. You're sweating buckets despite how he'd mashed the thermostat down to its limit - he even had to shrug on a jacket. Perhaps Aventurine would have poked fun at you for your intolerance, but he has enough decorum to hold his tongue. He really doesn't like seeing you so put out, as much as you're welcome to crash here.

"Your poker face could use some work. Save your words, we can hang out another time," he dismisses easily, bracing himself for your incoming opposition. He reluctantly breaks away from your side to amble over to the coffee table, beginning to clean up the remnants of game night.

"No way," in the corner of his eye, he notices you shifting restlessly, "finals are coming up. Won't have time after this..."

Aventurine sighs, sweeping his very nice clay chips into one hand while using the other to click open their case. This time of year, things become almost unbearably hectic. He has exams coming up in a few weeks himself, and though he never needs to study, he always adheres to your modus operandi of 'cram now, cry later'.

"Well, you're not going back to those dorms in that state."

"You sound like a dickhead," you murmur. "You think I wanna live there? Shitty thin walls... shitty dining hall food..."

He chuckles, snapping the case shut and dusting his hands of nonexistent dust. "You're cruder than usual when you're feverish."

Aventurine almost startles when you gasp. "I have a fever?!"

...and you're loopy, too.

He gets you to sit still with the promise of retrieving a fever reducer and some water. Aventurine roots through his bathroom cabinets, combing through his own extensive collection of self-care and skin products to reach where he keeps his medication.

It takes several minutes of crouching down on the tile for him to realize he doesn't have any. He clicks his tongue - well, it seems his own lifestyle has backfired on him once again. Aventurine doesn't get sick often, doesn't spend a lot of time at home, and has enough stubborn resilience to power through any ailment that might plague him.

But for you? The only reason he spends any time at all in this stupidly expensive penthouse?

Yeah, he'll make a quick trip to the drugstore.

When he walks back into the living room with his shoes on and wallet in his pocket, his heart warms. You've somehow slipped into an upside down position, hair spilling over the edge of the cushions. You somehow make it look comfortable, eyes closed and brow free of any creases.

"Does that help your sinuses?" he asks, really only to test if you're awake.

"You smell good..."

Aventurine ignores how those words make him feel, eyeing the door (and where your shoes are lined up neatly against the wall).

"I have to restock on Tylenol," he swallows. "Will you be okay by yourself?"

"Yes," you respond coherently this time.

Before he departs, he cajoles you into another position in case you throw up like that and end up choking - not without some strangely endearing complaints that you'd normally never voice, positive thing you are.

He doesn't get to the inside mat before you pipe up again, making him stop in his tracks.

"C'mere," you cough. "Please, humor a dying star's last wish..."

He really should be going so he can get your temperature down quicker, but leaving you on the sofa while you're about to cough up a lung strikes him as cruel. Aventurine gives into your dramatics - which happen to perfectly align with his own at times - and makes his way over to you.

"What is it? Did I forget something?" he sits down on the armrest, perching there with perfect balance. When you don't respond immediately, an odd little expression on your face, he rests his chin on his fist, pensive.

You hum.

He doesn't expect much; a request for another pillow, a plea for him to turn on a movie for you while he's out. Instead, he's caught off-guard as you throw an arm around his waist and pull, effectively whisking him off the high ground and right into your grasp.

Aventurine initially tenses but settles as you nuzzle closer. You're the only person in the world that can get away with loving him so easily.

"M'sorry I got sick on game night..." you whisper, uncaring that you're spreading your sickness (and your homely oxytocin).

He finds himself not caring much either.

"Do you believe me to be that hung up on you catching a cold?"

Aventurine's heart rabbits cruelly - he's sure you can hear it, with the way you're snuggled against him and whatnot, but maybe he'll get lucky like he always has, and you'll remain oblivious and perfect and unbothered, despite what you do to him.

You sniffle, words thick with exhaustion. "I dunno. Just stay."

He can't. Not just because he has to go pick up that Tylenol, but because he feels like he might die if you keep saying things like that.

"Five minutes," he acquiesces.

Aventurine waits for your celebration of victory, but no such thing comes. You're fast asleep, clinging to him like he's worth something.

He stays for a lot longer than five minutes, only wriggling out of your arms when he's sure you won't wake up to find him gone. When he returns later with his spoils (which also just so happen to include your favorite drink), you're cradling a pillow in his place.

Before Aventurine is your boyfriend or lover, he is a liar.

He is most definitely, unequivocally, one hundred percent hung up on you.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: modern au because i couldn't possibly resist. just wanted to mention here that u guys absolutely killed it with these quotes. you have my gratitude! also why is he like that. soggy wet cat

event post here

[orbitsaturn]

the virtues of a hero.

─ he truly believed that the noblest of characters were the ones hailing from nature.

until he met you.

kinich x reader angst + 2.8k words TW: death + graphic imagery spoilers for kinich's character stories

────────────

Kinich always wished for freedom. It was an escape from the wars in his household, the violent voice of his father ringing through the walls, and the arguments that plagued his home every week.

He hated his father.

He hated how his family fell apart because of his violent outbursts, hated how he always yelled at his mom and hated how he chased his mom away. He longed to get away from his father, to be free from the negativity that consumed his life, he wished for freedom.

On his seventh birthday, he got what he wished for.

"Dad, do you know where mom went?"

Kinich looked up at his dad expectantly, the smell of alcohol hitting his nose. It was his birthday today, usually, he wouldn't ask for anything but the curiosity of where his mother is ran through his mind often.

But he came to regret his words for years to come, the moment he mentioned his mother, his dad was instantly enraged.

"You little brat!"

The giant figure above him looked at Kinich with stricken eyes, the sight filling the young boy with dread. That wasn't his father anymore.

That was the monster who ruined his family.

With the looming figure's hands raising to hit the boy, he fled. The figure chasing him in pursuit. It was terrifying for a boy his age. He ran through the highest cliffs in Natlan, the sight of the monster behind him pervading him with the sense to flee.

"You wretch! Come here-"

As the man yelled at him he lost his footing due to the steep terrain, plummeting down the cliff. Only when Kinich's adrenaline wore out, did the realization hit him. He stared at the body of his father down the cliff. Kinich slowly crawls down the steep terrain, his palms and knees getting abrase from the rocks.

"Dad."

"Dad."

"Dad!"

"Dad?"

Kinich can only yell for the prospect of his father responding. Any response, whether it'd be a movement of his hand, the utterance of a groan, anything that could show that he's still alive, but there was nothing. The only thing that in his hearing is his own voice, one that's growing wearier and wearier. Yet the only thing in his sight was his dad's lifeless body.

Kinich's father was dead.

His father, the man he lived with for years, the man who frequently yelled at him, and his mom, the man he detested was dead.

Kinich's stomach churned, and the sight of the lifeless body overwhelmed the young boy. He could only stare in a daze before tears threatened to spill out of his amber-green eyes.

The only thing he could do was squeeze his eyes shut, scrunched his nose, twisting his face to prevent any tears from spilling. His lips pressed shut, preventing the whimpers that threatened to come out.

He hated his father, but he was still his father at the end of the day.

It's absurd how you remember a person's greatest qualities, even if they were a terrible person once they're gone.

Kinich could only bury the times when his father would spoil him with sweets, how heroic he looked when he would secretly watch him use his grabbling hook, and how he would always hug him when his mother was still around.

Kinich gained his wish for freedom, yet the only thing he truly gained was solitude.

───

After the departure of his father, Kinich became adept at living alone. He never sought help from anyone, and he didn't trust anyone.

Thoughts of his old life often plagued his mind. He questioned why he still kept the old alcohol bottles from his dad, why images of his family frequently haunt him in his dreams, and why he would ever ask about his mother on his seventh birthday.

All of this was witnessed by Elder Leik, the individual responsible for the children's education in the Scions of Canopy.

So when Kinich visited the market he was approached by the elder. The young boy was offered education in return for courier services. Yet, Kinich refused, and he bid goodbye to the elder before returning to do business at the tribal market.

But that wasn't the last time he'd see the elder.

Every time Kinich visited the market, he'd be met with the familiar face time and time again with the offer of an education. So after months of the elder's insistent offers, he finally relented.

───

Curious stares permeated Kinich's figure, yet the intense looks from peers his age didn't bother him. All he needed to do right now was listen and leave after to do more substantial activities anyway.

"Kinich have a seat anywhere you like!" Elder Lief exclaims with a big smile, happy to see Kinich attending a class.

Without any word, he heads away from the circle of kids, before a hand pulls him down. Catching him off guard, he looks to the owner of the hand, a young kid his age.

"Sit next to me!" You give him a toothy smile, patting the space next to you, "okay," Kinich obliges, not wanting to bring any more attention to himself if he sat away from the other kids.

"I'm (name)! What's your name?" you whisper to him, and he turns to look at you with an inexplicable look, "Kinich."

"Hi Kinich!" you stretch your hand towards him. He hesitates for a bit before grabbing your hand and shaking it.

"Ahem, now children, settle down," Elder Leif coughs, beckoning the kids to quiet down, "Today we'll talk about our honored heroes and their stories, with each of them deserving to be remembered by their contributions and their self-sacrifice for the nation of Natlan!"

Kinich raises his hand, "Why would they want to sacrifice themselves?" he looks at the Elder inquisitively, to which he responds by gently smiling at him, "It's not a question of why, it's simply a virtue innate for heroes to do whatever they can to help those they love."

"And what did their self-sacrifice get them?" Kinich asks again,

"Virtue is a priceless trait, those with it gain the highest rewards"

"The highest rewards? Like fame or mora? "

"Haha, those are part of the rewards," the elder chuckled, "But that wasn't the reward they obtained. They gained and maintained their virtue, they stayed a hero due to their unchanging morals." The elder gave him a sincere smile.

Kinich didn't really understand how a trait could be the greatest reward for self-sacrifice. Would the forest boar be filled with virtue as they relieved his hunger? And would the river water be a hero since it relieved his thirst?

If anything, he wanted to become a hero to gain the reward of mora.

"Hah! Of course, a dirty kid like you would only think of mora!" a little boy shouted, laughing, "Just leave if you're just a money-grubbing monkey!"

"Children! Mind your words!" Elder Leif scolds them, not noticing Kinich already heading out.

"Wait!" you stood up, grabbing his wrist, "Don't take their words to heart, they're only self-projecting!" you whisper to Kinich, "In fact! I heard them talking about how they don't even need to be a hero since they're well-off already! Ugh! Selfish jerks right?" you give him a reassuring smile.

Kinich stares at you, "oh," he pulls something out of his pocket, "Here, this herb can help you heal your scrape." He looks down at your scraped knee, handing you the herb.

"Wow! Thank you so much!" you reply, waving goodbye to him as he leaves the Learning Lodge.

Although he declared that he only wanted to be a hero due to the prospect of mora. You knew deep down that wasn't the case.

Why else would he look down at your scraped knee with a slight furrow of his brows and the apologetic look he gave Elder Leif when he left without informing him?

───

As the years grew, so did Kinich's reputation. He was incredibly skilled, and more and more people started coming to him for dangerous commissions. Kinich also grew closer to the old man he once found annoying, Elder Lief. The old scholar guided him throughout the years, giving him invaluable lessons that would help him for years to come. Yet the only thing the Elder wanted in return for his teachings was the promise with Kinich to learn what it truly meant to be a hero during his journeys.

He also grew closer to you, the first person who gave him words of reassurance ever since his mother's departure.

You were the complete opposite of him, you had a bright personality, always helping others freely. Yet, you were his best friend, even though he was different from you like night and day, You never judged him for his demeanor, you encouraged it.

"Let the people get mad! I mean, you're only making sure they aren't scamming you right?" You exclaim to him, "Mhm, I'm simply making sure I get paid adequately," he smiles at you amused by your unrelenting support for him.

"Yeah! So keep doing what you're doing." You throw your arm around him, "Don't think about those old geezers complaining," you flash him an earnest look. "Let's buy some Saurus Crackers once you're done for today!" you give him a grin.

"I'll pay using those old geezers' money." Kinich gives you a smirk.

And when you give the smile you frequently flash, he finds himself getting dragged into your world every time.

He didn't understand what it meant to be a hero.

But if he had to pick who would be fit to be a hero,

It would be you.

───

Kinich was still the same old Kinich even when he gained an ancient name and a 'pet' dragon. So when he emerged victorious in the Pilgrimage and threw himself into the Night Warden Wars with no hesitation it wasn't a surprise to everyone. Yet, only one person was surprised, it was Kinich.

You were participating in the Night Warden Wars along with him.

"Worried to see your little partner participating? Heh." The dragon beside him said in an irritating voice, causing him to smack it.

"Hey!" the dragon growls.

He knew how strong you were, and that you could easily fend for yourself. But he had an inexplicable feeling in this gut, one he couldn't identify.

As Kinich's team headed into the Night Kingdom and began fighting off the abyss his gut feeling became stronger.

There was something wrong with this place.

"Kinich!" A yell from his left direction catches his attention, "T-There's something wrong with this place! The creatures they can mask as your─" yet before his comrade could relay the news, he was ambushed by a creature of the abyss.

The creatures were disguising themselves as their loved ones.

The warriors that emerged from the pilgrimage were faced with the vile tricks of the abyss. The faces of their loved ones appeared before them, which caused them to hesitate to draw their weapons.

And that hesitance proved to be deadly.

One by one, many warriors that came down to fight in the Night Kingdom were ambushed. Only a few remaining comrades prevailed through the harsh conditions.

"Kinich?"

A familiar voice called out to him, one he thought he had long forgotten. He turns around, seeing his 'mother', who he hadn't seen for years.

The figure opens her arms to hug him, yet, the instincts and reflexes he honed over the years caused him to swing his weapon.

With one swift movement of his claymore, he cut through his 'mother's' body.

"Wow. Heartless." Ajaw laughed heartily.

"Hah..." Kinich wipes the sweat off his forehead. The situation was getting dire, more and more abyssal creatures were flooding near him. Yet, he didn't relent, one by one he slayed every creature that came near him, each making his heart and body fatigued. Once he was done with all the abyssal creatures in his area he looked around, yet he could only see the wretched landscape of the abyss, with no sight of his comrades in sight.

The continuous fighting made him lethargic, but he had to prevail so his fallen comrades could come back again. He looks up, checking the crack in the sky. It was getting smaller, he needed to find his comrades soon, he needed to find you soon. As he drags his tired body to the other areas of the Night Kingdom, a deep pit of worry fills his stomach.

Is (name) okay?

As he scans his surroundings again he spots you lying on the ground, seemingly lifeless. A feeling of dread washed over him.

"(name)!" Kinich runs over to you with a worried expression. His eyes were quivering, a sense of relief washing over him once he saw you breathing.

You were still alive.

"Kinich! I'm okay, just catching my breath!" You reassure him, giving a tired smile, "No, your arm is gashed," he says breathlessly. With his hands trembling he holds your arm before taking out the gauze in his pocket.

He wraps the gauze around your injury tightly, yet the hold on your arm is gentle, careful even.

Looking at you with concern he shoves a herb in your mouth. Which you immediately spat out in response, you give him a disgusted look, "Kinich! You know I hate that herb!"

"But you gratefully accepted it back when we first met, didn't you?" Kinich laughs before stretching his hand towards you, "That's cause I didn't need to eat it!" You grab his hand and he hoists you up.

"We need to go, the opening is going to close soon." He looks up, the crack in the sky getting smaller and smaller.

"Mm. Let's hurry, you nod in response.

The two warriors run to the crack in the sky with hordes of abyssal monsters pursuing them. It was getting smaller and smaller, they needed to be quick. He made sure you were in front of him, it's okay if he didn't make it back. At least one of you needed to return the Ode of Resurrection, and he wanted it to be you.

He didn't want you to experience the feeling of death.

"Kinich!" You yell, spotting a rift hound that caught up to him. The sight of it preparing to attack Kinich made you act without thinking.

Kinich has a better chance of going back.

Without having the time to react, Kinich finds himself pushed onto the ground. You get slashed by the rift hound but you put it down with the last of your strength.

"(name)!" Kinich yells out your name in horror.

Deep gashes painted your abdomen, causing you to wince in pain. You press on your stomach, trying to stop the bleeding but it barely does anything to no avail. Kinich runs over to you, his eyes quivering, lips pursed together.

"(name). (name). (name). Please." he supports your limp body in his arms. Fumbling in his pockets for any gauze, medicine, herbs, anything to keep you alive.

He couldn't lose you.

He was fine losing everything but you.

He sets you down on the ground, hastily wrapping the scarce gauze he had left on your stomach.

"Kinich," you look up at him, giving him an apologetic smile, "Go without me." His hands stop momentarily, before going back to bandaging your abdomen.

A brief moment of anger flashes in Kinich's mind

"Are you serious?" Kinich looks at you in disbelief. He quickly finishes wrapping your abdomen. He hoists you up, the feeling of your limpening body causing panic to bubble in him.

He should've been the one who got slashed.

Why did you go out of your way to save him?

You cough, before putting a hand on his cheek, "You know you're stronger than me, if anyone was getting out alive, it'd be you." you give a weak smile.

"No, you're making it out. You're gonna be okay (name). Please," his hold on you tightened, "Please don't leave me." he looked at you in distraught, his voice trembling. "(name). Please, please don't leave me."

"I should be the one saying that." you laugh at him weakly, causing Kinich to glare at you, "Go without me Kinich. I'm quite heavy." Your hand falls down from his cheek, your eyes slowly shutting close.

"I really need a good sleep too."

Kinich's eyes quivered, his hold on your limp body weakening.

"(name)."

He calls out to you.

"(name)."

This time he shakes your shoulders.

"(name)!"

This time he yells out your name.

He looks at your face, it looks peaceful even with the amount of wounds that littered your body. He strokes your head, fixing any stray hairs and clearing the hair from your face.

He takes in a deep breath.

He doesn't linger any longer, he stands up and starts heading to the crack again.

He squeezed his eyes shut again, he scrunched his nose again, and his face twisted to prevent any tears from falling again.

The bright light seeping from the crack created a stark contrast compared to the dark environment.

He looks back to the direction where you last stood before the light took him back.

He truly believed that the noblest of characters were the ones hailing from nature.

Until he experienced you.

───

a/n: guys don't worry ode of resurrection magic

ill do part 2 (?)

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Poly marauders where it’s like there teen daughter gets into a fight and like smokes and stuff and like conversations and text trying to figure out what’s going on and telling each other what’s happening and like her yelling at them and finding out she’s been hanging around the wrong kind of people and she’s been stealing and just like good angst but then she says sorry walks away and slowly stops but like still ofc and teen girl 💕💕

𝟷.𝟹𝚔 || 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your teen daughter was hanging out with wrong kind of people, causing all of you to confront her.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: poly!marauders x mom!Reader

"She's stealing, James. STEALING." Sirius’s voice came through the phone, low and angry. You could hear it even though James had stepped into the kitchen to take the call. Your heart clenched, dread coiling tightly in your chest.

You glanced at Remus, who was sitting on the couch, his brow furrowed as he typed furiously into his phone, likely messaging Peter. It had been a few tense days now. First, your daughter had gotten into a fight at school. Then came the smoking. And now…you were learning about the stealing.

James walked back into the living room, running a hand through his hair. His usually calm demeanor was shattered, his hazel eyes full of worry. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Sirius’s voice on speakerphone, growling, “This is bloody ridiculous. Who’s she been hanging out with? How did we not know?”

You winced. “She’s not a bad kid,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. “We must’ve missed something, right? Maybe if I had—”

“Don’t,” Remus cut in gently, finally looking up from his phone. His eyes softened as he reached for your hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong, love.”

But the guilt gnawed at you anyway. You were her mother. You were supposed to protect her, guide her, and yet here you all were, blindsided by her sudden spiral.

The front door slammed, jolting you out of your thoughts. There she was, your daughter, stomping into the room with an air of defiance.

“Sweetheart, we need to talk,” James started, his voice steady but filled with concern.

“No, we don’t,” she snapped. “I’m not a child. You don’t get to control my life!”

Sirius, who had hung up and now stormed in after her, looked livid. “You’re stealing now?” His voice was tight with fury, and you saw James reach out, placing a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him from escalating. “We didn’t raise you to act like this. What the hell is going on?”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you actually paid attention to what I want, instead of what you want me to be, I wouldn’t have to sneak around!”

Remus took a deep breath, stepping in. “Who have you been hanging out with, darling?”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, you saw the scared girl beneath the rebellious facade. “It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “I’ve got my own life, alright? You guys don’t get it.”

Peter, who had just arrived, slipped in quietly, standing by the door. He had always been the quiet one in confrontations like these, but his eyes were filled with worry. “We do get it,” he said softly. “We’ve been your age. But hanging out with people who are getting you into fights, into trouble…it’s not the way.”

Her lip trembled, and for a second, it seemed like she was going to break. But then she just shook her head and stormed toward her room, slamming the door behind her.

The silence that followed was suffocating. You sat down hard on the couch, burying your face in your hands. “I failed her,” you choked out, your voice thick with tears. “I should’ve known. I should’ve seen it.”

Sirius’s anger faltered, and he knelt down in front of you. “Hey, no. None of this is your fault.”

James crouched beside you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You’re a great mom,” he whispered into your hair. “She’s just…lost right now.”

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. “But what if we lose her, James? What if we're not enough?”

Remus was there in an instant, sitting beside you, pulling you close. “We won’t lose her,” he murmured. “We’ll figure it out together, okay? We’ve always got each other.”

Peter nodded from the side. “She’s tough, just like you. She’ll come around.”

Sirius, who had always been the most protective, clenched his fists, still simmering with frustration but trying his best to soften for your sake. “I just don’t want her getting hurt,” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “I don’t want her to turn into someone we don’t recognize.”

James kissed his temple, his voice gentle but firm. “She won’t. We’ll make sure of it.”

Over the next few days, things were tense, but slowly, you began to see changes. She came home earlier, didn’t pick as many fights. It wasn’t a complete transformation—far from it—but there were glimmers of hope. She even sat down with you once, just to watch TV. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

One evening, she came up to you while the boys were scattered around the house. “Mom?” she asked, her voice quiet.

You looked up, your heart in your throat. “Yes, sweetie?”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes were filled with genuine remorse. “I…I messed up. I’m still mad, but I know I messed up.”

You pulled her into your arms, tears welling in your eyes again, but this time from relief. “I love you,” you whispered, kissing the top of her head. “No matter what, I love you.”

She nodded, hugging you tightly before stepping back. “I’m gonna try…to do better.”

It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.

hope this is what you were going for! also i wasn't sure if you wanted reader insert, so i twisted it up a bit

[hyunebunx]

💛 w/ felix please!!

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💛- 'a kiss shared during sunset, often romantic and serene'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff!! the fluffiest kind

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: i loved writing this sm :( it's a little self indulgent but i still hope you'll like it! thank youu for requesting!! <333

Sunsets were your absolute favorite.

It might sound cliché or overrated, but witnessing such mesmerizing beauty whenever you were lucky enough to, genuinely made life worth living to an extent other things didn’t. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder but nobody could deny the one of a kind colors and the bright light that was slowly dimming with every minute that passed weren’t painting one of the most gorgeous pictures of them all. Mother Nature herself was the most talented artist after all, her creations admired all over the world by all sorts of people, even the ones who didn’t have a keen eye for the arts in the first place.

Yet somehow, the sunset was even more dazzling now while you were admiring it with Felix, your one and only who everyone was convinced was related to the sun himself.

Lowering your hands, you let the cheap film camera dangle from your wrist casually, the sand warm under you. “I’ve always loved taking pictures of the sky.”

Felix tears his gaze from the ocean, the warm breeze softly ruffling his long blond hair as he smiles. “I know. You never miss a photo opportunity, wiping out your phone and stopping everything we do to get that perfect shot.”

You return his smile, sheepishly, bumping your shoulder into his. “So, you’ve noticed.”

“Of course I have.” He admits like he couldn’t phantom someone not noticing, leaning closer and staring at you in such a way that had you believing he forgot all about the beautiful view in front for a moment. “Because while you’re busy staring at the sky, my eyes only see you.”

Your eyes widen, heat rushing to your face alarmingly as you finally turn to look at him. Wrong move, because the sight of him takes your breath away, especially since you’re close enough to notice every single detail that made Felix who he was. His freckles were not hiding behind any makeup, spilling all over his cheeks like actual constellations – the ones on his eyelids were always your favorite, having taken too many pictures of them to even count now – plump lips naturally pink and still stretched into a faint smile that only pulled you closer by your heartstrings, tugging at them and never really letting go.

The sun was setting, and there were numerous other couples around enjoying the view and the last days of warmth on the beach, but now you could only see him.

“Now you’re just lying to fluster me.” A giggle escapes you, awkward and shy as the beautiful shades of orange begin caressing his side profile, mesmerizing you.

Felix shakes his head instantly. “Why would I?” His hand finds yours on the sand, intertwining your fingers. “People find beauty in different things. So, while you’re enthralled by the sky and all of its colors, I’m bewitched by you and only you.”

Bewitched, like you were some sort of otherworldly being in his eyes, a piece of art deserved to be hung in a museum in its own separate section, surrounded by security 24/7.

You’ve never doubted Felix’s love for you but at the same time, you had no idea he regarded you so highly, in the same way you did him.

Without a second thought, you lean over and plant a lingering kiss on his cheek, feeling his smile widen before you get the chance to pull away, happiness radiating off of him.

“Sure, the sky is beautiful.” You nod, a little tongue-tied and emotional by his previous statement. “But there’s something I love capturing in pictures even more.”

His brows furrow, turning his whole mind upside down in search of the answer he’s looking for, sure you’ve told him about this before. There was no way he wouldn’t remember.

You reach to smooth out the skin and stop him from stressing. Felix beams in response, catching your fingers and bringing them to his mouth to kiss one by one.

The waves were crashing against the shore, bringing a rare serenity you and Felix could never get enough of as the sun seemed to pause its descent to also witness your love, giving you a few more moments of light.

“The moon?” He tries, thoughtful while bringing your hand to his chest.

You shake your head and almost close the distance between you to whisper. “You.”

Then, you kiss him, tenderly and softly like you’re afraid once you pull back and open your eyes he will disappear like he was nothing more than a fragment of your own imagination. Or a ray of sunshine personified whose time ran out and he needed to hurry home and be among his people, to allow the moon to take front stage.

Felix holds your hands like he feels the same, not believing someone like you was actually real and bothered to give him the time of day.

There is no rush or desperation, just two people who love each other like it wasn’t the first time, like they somehow met before in a past life and were separated by the cruel passing of time. Like soulmates destined to find each other over and over again, guided by the red string of fate that never tore no matter how far apart your paths were, or what obstacles dared to stand in your way.

When you pull away, he chases after you, pecking your lips repeatedly until he’s satisfied. But he doesn’t seem to get enough, deepening the kiss at the last second while pulling you even closer as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to feel you near.

The sun is almost gone when you come back for air, forehead resting against your lover’s as you both break into the biggest smiles, delighted to be together and make even more memories.

And for once in your life, you don’t mind missing a sunset for you found an even more beautiful view. 

[andcars]

# 𝗖𝗦𝟱𝟱 ─── TO THE PODIUM N' BACK DOWN MASTERLIST . . . REQUEST ME . . . TAGLIST . . . AO3

IT'S YOUR FIRST WIN with carlos trailing behind you. to celebrate, the both of you hit the club. things ensues, sexual tensions are sexual, and holy shit he just pinned you to the bathroom door and fucked you raw. ────── original prompt req.

PROMPTED DIALOGUE . . . # “We can run away together, somewhere far away” + “We’ll only be caught if you’re loud” PROMPTED TAGS . . . # breeding kink, bareback, obsessive behaviour, body worship, teammate!reader ADD. TAGS . . . # cunnilingus, slick as lube, wall sex, semi-public sex, creampie WORD COUNT. . . # 2k

The victory anthem plays as champagne is sprayed all over you. There’s nowhere to hide from the liquid shooting at you from both ends. It’s warm. It smells addicting. You’re living the high of being a winner and Carlos is right there with you.

When most of everyone’s champagne has spilled, you drink yours to the bottom of the bottle. The adrenaline screams at you. Your heart is still finding its resting pace. You think to yourself, You really got your first fucking win.

Coming down from the podium, Carlos has a hand on your back. “You did well, mi reina (my queen). How are you celebrating?”

You don’t have to say a word to him to tell him. He laughs beside you when you stay silent.

“We can always run off,” he suggests, “we aren’t needed anymore.”

“I’m pretty sure we will be,” you retaliate, despite not caring anyways.

He tells you, ignoring your concerns, “We can go somewhere far from here. Where they won’t find us.”

You look at him then. He’s already looking at you. The smile on your face is something he’s seen time and time again. You don’t think he’ll get tired of it. “Sounds like a plan.”

────── SHORT WHILE LATER. . .

The club music roars in your ears. There is not a single drop of alcohol in your body and yet you feel like you’re intoxicated from the win alone. It’s like your body knows.

In the edge of the crowd, your body is pressed up with Carlos. For the greater part of this season, he has been helping place high into the ranks. More often than not, you out-qualify him in the race. 

Ferrari finds their strategy and you have never been more glad to be the one to receive the win. Turning around, you place your arms around Carlos' neck.

Maybe it’s still the high of the win. Maybe it’s because Carlos has been nothing but a good teammate.

It really could just be because he’s really hot.

“You’re looking at me,” he says, like an idiot.

“Not like you don’t look at me first,” you tell him. “Always following me around, one would say you’re my stalker.”

Both of you know it’s true. The amount of times he would follow you around the garage though he has his own duties. In the hospitality, he would find anything just to keep the both of you together.

You've watched the onboards, him always inquiring where you stand. You know he always finds a way to make sure you’re beside him in the rankings.

He shrugs, barely hiding it. “I like being with you. Should there anything be more than that?”

Without thinking about it anymore, you pull him for a kiss. He comes easily, body pressed against yours as warmth spreads between the two of you. The taste of champagne is still on his tongue.

Of course he loves you. It’s like he got one taste of you and he can’t get rid of you now. His tongue memorised the shape of your lips. His mouth can’t help but utter your name. Now, his hands find themselves on your hip. In slow strokes, he caresses you tenderly yet his kisses tells differently. It’s hungry. It’s insatiable. You can barely breathe under the pressure.

When his lips trailed down your neck, you moaned.

“You like that, corazón (heart)?” he gasps, the sound barely noticeable over the deafening music. “You like it here?”

He doesn’t need to hear your response as his kisses and turns to bites. You squirm under him. Both of his hands come to steady you by the hips, immobilising you in his arms. He’s heavy on you, his dominance alluring you to give in. Fucking addicting, so fucking good.

You don’t think about why you let Carlos take you like this in the corner of the floor. His touch feels electrifying. His body is warm—fucking hot. It’s in the way he sways you to the music and the open mouthed bites on your neck.

“Carlos,” you breathe out as you pull him away, “maybe don’t fuck me in public.”

He laughs, seeing the sly grin on your face. “Surely you won’t mind the bathroom? I don’t think I can go far like this.”

Pretending to ponder about making Carlos exit the club with a hard on and you by his side, you lean against him. “I'll tell the whole world how ungentlemanly you are.”

“You’ll tell the world about us?”

You smile, “I’ll tell the universe about us.”

With his hand in yours, he leads you to the bathroom. You’re thankful that it’s not like one of those dingy bathrooms in most clubs. Despite wanting to fuck your teammate this bad, you don’t think you can stand the smell of vomit and piss.

Carlos takes you to a room inside—this level of privacy for a singular toilet is crazy, but then again, you're sure this was often visited for sex—and pins you by the door.

It’s not tight in here and yet he finds a way to suffocate you. One of your legs wrap around him as he undresses you. The strap of your dress falls and the skirt is pulled up. He moans against your skin as his hands love your ass.

“Carlos,” you moan, his hands feeling your cold skin, “fucking hell…”

Distantly, you hear the bathroom door open. Carlos chuckles against your neck, kissing it after. “Better be quiet, corazón. Unless you wanna tell the universe now?”

“Shut the fuck up, Sainz.” You pull him to a kiss as he unbuckles himself. The need to grind into him is convincing. You’re weak against him, letting your panties caress his erection.

He sighs, his mouth biting at your bottom lip at your crudeness. You hear him swear under his breath, mumbling something in Spanish as he finally pulls out his cock.

Before you could offer him anything, he pulled away to kneel. You moan at the sight. He pulls up your skirt and practically breathes in against your clothed cunt. Your underwear is a futile barrier.

He pulls it off with one hand as he spits in the other. You tug at his hair as he goes forward, kissing your clit and his finger fucking into you.

“Shit…” you moan, trying to stifle it afterwards with your arm, “Carlos.”

His eyes look up at you. Your little pleads don’t stop him as his mouth trails lower to your hole, peppering kisses on it as his finger rubs your insides. He gets two more fingers in easily with the wetness. Your thigh quivers around him and you pull his hair.

A whine leaves you when his fingers leave. It was too short. You want more. He hears you and is quick to replace it with his other fingers, drier yet more eager to stretch you out. Though your view is obstructed, you can hear his hand working his own cock. 

It makes you feel manic the fact he’s using your own slick as his lube.

“Fuck, Carlos,” you moan, a leg over his shoulder. Your cunt is directly over his mouth, his nose bumping into your clit perfectly. This is enough to drive you fucking crazy. 

You’re close. The beat of the club thrums with your heart. His tongue is lapping at your leaking pussy as four fingers stretch you out. You’re entirely sure that you’re being heard throughout the bathroom now. It doesn’t matter. You don’t care—

He stops. You squirm on top of him as he comes back up to you. “Corazón,” he whispers as his fingers pull out to tease your clit. “So pretty, so good for me…”

“You fucking tease,” you grunt. He smiles at you.

“I want you to cum on me, huh?” his hand is noisy as it fucks his cock with your juices. “My girl, always want to see you come apart for me.”

However much you wanna hit him right now, it dissapates as his cock slaps at your hole. You wince, “Carlos!” and throw an arm around him.

“So beautiful,” he pants, “tastes so good to me. Tastes like a winner.”

You wanna retaliate. You wanna whine and say no to his love. But he pushes his cock inside of you without protection and it makes you lose your head.

“Carlos, condom—”

“There’s none here,” he says, breathless as he enjoys the way you clench around him. “There’s none. Either I leave you like this or I fuck you raw.”

True to his words, he does fuck you raw. Every thrust of his bare cock inside of you drives you crazy. His warmth, his skin, his leaking pre-cum all touching the most intimate part of you. Just the thought that this is the closest he's ever been with you makes you wanna cum.

“So fucking good,” he says, breath tickling your neck. “My girl, corazón, so fucking loose on me.

“You’re so hot. So wet. I want to keep fucking you like this. Feel my cum drip down your cunt—” you moan—”as you get so full of me.”

Carlos is lost in his own fantasy. He thrusts into you harder, your hips moving along his as you relish in the idea together. He doesn’t miss the way you clench harder on him. The way your moans just get a little bit louder.

“You’d like that?” he asked, “Don’t want me to pull out? Does my girl want to keep my cum inside of her? Fuck her full until she’s bred full?”

“Carlos—!” you scream out into his neck, hiding your red face. “You fucking- oh God, yes, fuck! Just like that, baby. Fucking breed me.”

He doesn’t need to be told again. Your moans echo through the room as your hands pull at his head. He kisses down your jaw, to your neck, and bites and marks you.

You don’t understand him anymore. He murmurs to you in Spanish which you don’t understand. But the way his teeth scrapes, his hand tightens, his hips fucking into you like they’re determined to stuff you full with his semen. You can’t stop yourself from cumming all over him.

His pace is overstimulating, too much for you. Though he slows down, his cock grinding into you has you punching his back.

Carlos understands perfectly. He pulls out with only half his cock inside, still erect, still wanting to feel you. You don’t get him soft as your hands go down to finish him off.

“Fuck,” he grunts as you feel him resist the urge to fuck your first. Your delicate hands moving on him with the head of his cock still feeling your pulsating pussy. He’s fighting everything not to give in to this bliss.

“Come on, Carlos,” you say, “cum in me. Let yourself win today too.”

He looks into your eyes and you can see something primal behind them. Though he doesn’t move, he forces your lips to lock with his. Your hand falters as you taste yourself on his tongue. But his hands intertwine with yours, helping you finish him off.

“So good,” he says between breathing, “letting me have you like this—how I’ve always wanted.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck, I’m gonna cum in your pretty little pussy.”

Few more strokes and he finishes inside of you with a loud moan. You feel it splatter your insides and your legs give in for just a moment. He holds you upright. His grip on you is strong but never enough to bruise. You know that he was never one to hurt you.

Only after calming down could you hear both of your cum drip down onto the tiles. You blush, whining a little. “Carlos,” you say, “I can’t go out like this.”

“Like you became mine?”

You punch his chest. “Like I’m a fucking whore!”

He laughs and presses a short kiss on your lips. “Mhm, I don’t know, I like seeing you dirty like this.”

After he cleans you up, you hit him in the head for being such a dumbass. He doesn’t really look like he cares. Not with those hearts in his eyes.

🗒 𝗣𝗔𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗟 . . . the funniest bit is that i was finishing up the graphic for this fic as i watched carlos hit the barriers in singapore q3- so, that happened. anyways! working on a lot of requests so i hope this one is a great start for everyone . ˎˊ˗ ᝰ. ──── 📨 @delululeclerc @hiireadstuff

you support me best on tumblr with reblogs and comments ! ── by andcars ⟡

[luvsimskaos]

With Elijah out of the house and the chores done, Casper and Daphne choose to go out to the park with their friends. Daphne races against Phillis to see who can get the first, while Casper piggybacks on Isaiah talking with Lucinda.

The group of five first plays London bridge is falling. They run around playing and laughing. After the kids start a competition on the hanging bars to see who can last the longest. Phillis keeps watch to make sure no one cheats. Casper manages to win while Daphne is the first to drop.

The group splits up to talk to each other, with Daphne and Phillis staying at monkey bars. Casper sticks with Isaiah and Lucinda, choosing to seat on the grass underneath the swing chair.

Back at the property Cato is up, still feeling weak from his bout of sickness. He feels miserable knowing once again that his siblings are out and about while he's stuck at home.

Cato grabs his journal and proceeds to write not only about his feelings nut also stories of how he wished he could live his life. Writing does help a little but Cato still feels stuck in his depression.

Sable catches a glimpse of Cato's writing. Reading what his wrote worries her greatly. She decides to talk to Cato and asks him what's wrong. It's rough at first but soon Cato is spilling how he hates being so week and how he's always the one left behind. Sable tries to comfort her son but she isn't sure how she can help

Finally Sable decides to invites Cato to lie in bed with her, wanting to hold him. Cato agrees, happy for some sympathy. Cato manages to fall asleep in his mother's arms forgetting about for a moment his lonely feelings. Sable on the other hand can't help but wonder how to help her son out.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Worlds Collide Anemo Boys minus Aether

Return to File

Recovery date: September 20th, 2024

Description: ok, fourth time?! I rlly am addicted to ur blog atp ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ so uh this time, maybe the reader and the anemo boys meeting their deceased friends and family? Separately ofc, but maybe not for aether bc I don't rmb him having any deceased friends or family. Thank you, and as always, feel free to delete if this is too angsty for u!! (i think i might come back a lot, so can i be ⭐️ anon? If u allow, ofc!) aaaaaa im so sry i forgot to say that for the anemo boys, i meant that if they're decreased friends and family were still alive what would their relationship be with the reader aaaaaaa in sry😭😭

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with researcher ⭐️, we thank them for their contributions. So glad to have you back! I will say it's funny that you were worried it would be too angsty, and I think I made it angstier because bringing the dead back/ making it so they never died would seriously change our character and their stories. So I found other ways for them to meet reader!

Back to directory

Venti

Unfortunately, retroactively reviving the nameless bard would cause a lot of problems

But, Venti likes to think about how your lives might play out if he were here somehow

He thinks you’d get along

You’d love the bard’s lyre playing

If you sing/play an instrument with Venti, he’ll totally write songs for the three of you

Likes to think you’d play pranks on the bard with him, maybe you would, or maybe you’d scold him

If you ever got married the Bard would be his best man

Xiao

Once fell asleep to Cloud Retainer’s dream machine

He “awoke” to thundering laughter and a hand slamming against a table

You were sitting against a tree, his head in your lap, and his fellow yaksha were sat around the nearby table

Bosacius is slamming one of his hands against the table as he’s doubled over laughing

Indarias is laughing too, she’s leaning against Bonanus who’s trying to to spill her wine

Menogias is trying to use one of Cloud Retainers many inventions to grill fish with Pervases

It’s when he starts to sit up that you realize he’s awake

He notices your clothes are different, they must have been made by Menogias

Before he can say anything, he’s called up to play his flute

You join the other Yaksha at the table as he starts to play, and as he closes his eyes he sees many others approaching from the distance

Kazuha

Having settled in Inzauma with you, he finds his sleep to be deeper and more restful

This results in him dreaming more, finally able to indulge in the deep sleep required

On this night, he opens his eyes to find you crouched down with a white cat

It’s his friends, though he thinks it’s odd it’s not standing guard of his grave

Then his friend speaks from above him, calling you adorable

He looks up to find him lounging in the tree branches

His friend looks down at him and calls him lucky, asking to be invited to the wedding

Before Kazuha can say anything else, his friend jumps down and challenges you to a sparring match

You eagerly agree, declaring the winner Kazuha’s best friend

He sits back to watch, joined by the cat, with a fond smile

Heizou

Heizou dreams of his friend often when the festival where they met rolls around

This year you attended together and left an offering at his friends grave after

Maybe that’s why tonight he doesn’t think this is quite a dream

It feels to real

You lean against him, leaning across him to talk animatedly with his friend

He should feel embarrassed as you swap stories

He should remind you to eat your food that’s growing cold

Instead he places a kiss on the top of your head and turns to his friend

Two can play at this game, he cuts in with an embarrassing story of his own

You’re thrilled, and Heizou finds himself keeping you up right on your stool as you laugh so hard it shakes

He’s glad you got to meet his friend, and he thanks whatever power gave him this chance

Wanderer

It’s a gift from Nahida

When you agree to spend the rest of your life/ forever with him

That night you dream of the furnace, and Niwa and his family

The boy, his first friend, is there as well though he’s grown

Niwa pours you some more tea as you happily discuss your most recent trip together to Sumeru

It all feels so comfortable, Wanderer finds himself slumping against the table

The boy struggles to peel a bulle fruit, and you gently take it from him to help

Niwa elbows him and whispers something about children

He rolls his eyes

The boy sets the bulle fruit in the middle for you all to share

The next morning Wanderer finds his pillow stained with tears

[iwaoiness]

Every time Oikawa asks Iwaizumi to take a picture of him, it’s never just one picture—it’s at least a dozen. Between his “Iwa-chan, you’ve got to tell me if I’m backlit!” and “Hold the phone straight, Iwa-chan, don’t tilt it!” and “I need a different background” and “Are you getting my shoes in the shot, Iwa-chan?” and “Wait, is live photo on?”

And while Iwaizumi always protests, giving him an exasperated glare with his own retorts like, “How can you be backlit when it’s cloudy?” and “I’ll tilt your face if you don’t fucking stand still” and “I swear, I’m going to punch you” and “Yes, your damn shoes are in the shot”, deep down, he doesn’t really mind.

Oikawa is beautiful. Incredibly beautiful. He has a striking physical charm that makes anyone turn for a second glance. He’s naturally photogenic, always has been. There’s no picture where he truly looks bad, not even that one from when he was three, crying his eyes out in front of a piece of cake spilled on the floor, snot dripping, his face flushed red.

That’s why Iwaizumi can’t help but smile a little bit every time he frames Oikawa in the photo and presses the button to capture him. He likes how Tooru smiles at his phone, genuine and soft. Or how he tries to seem distracted, looking away while shaking his hands. Or when he puts his hands to the waistband of his jeans, adjusting it, and lowers his head slightly, as if paying attention to what he’s doing. Or, his favorite, when he tilts his chin up and lets the sun kiss him completely, closing one eye and subtly shielding his face with one hand as he smiles.

Or he turns to the side and looks over his shoulder at the camera, that intense gaze paired with a playful smile curling his lips. Or he sticks his tongue out naughtily and flashes a victory sign. Or, when he’s sitting, he spreads his long legs with feigned carelessness, his arms resting on his thighs as he looks off to the side, his head tilted just enough to show more of his pale neck. Or he leans against the wall, pretending to be interested in what’s going on around him, hands clasped behind his back. Or he walks forward, one hand in the pocket of his pants and the other holding one of his favorite bubble tea.

No matter how he poses, even when he’s being a goof, Hajime always thinks about how beautiful, handsome, cute, and stunning he is. And sometimes, when Tooru isn’t being so damn picky about the angles, the background, or the pose, he says it out loud. And just that—a soft “you’re beautiful”—is enough to leave Oikawa speechless, his eyes wide, with a blush creeping from his neck all the way to his eyebrows.

(And if, while Tooru's babbling incoherently pretending the compliments don’t affect him, Hajime Airdrops all the photos to himself to choose a new wallpaper, well, he doesn’t say a word.)

...

did u know i love iwaoi?

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[otterquirks]

Really am glad to have a desk pad to catch my coffee every time I spill it onto my desk... because it happens too often.

[andy-clutterbuck]

Years - The Ones Who Live - 1x01

[corfisers]

it's so fascinating to me how little there is to work with if you want to go with the (most likely) intended reading of yashiro as a cis man. if you ignore what other characters are saying, all the instances of "bitch" being thrown at him, men comparing him to a woman as an insult, and just focus on his own feelings regarding his gender and masculinity, there's… nothing really? the few times when he explicitly says that he's not a woman go hand in hand with "therefore it's okay to hurt and abuse me, to be rough with me, to want to leave me, etc etc". the way he talks about men usually reads as "men and me" with a level of separation there. all the "what type of women do you like? is this how it is with women? are you gentle with women? women women women?" there's no attachment to being a man, not that i can see at least, so reading saezuru through the lenses of sexuality and gender rather than just sexuality is this weird experience of "i know what you want me to think, but thank you for leaving so much room for the other interpretation"

[screamingay]

somehow these current roommates we have are the worst that ive known yet and last semester we literally had a girl who smoked cigs IN her bedroom. list of grievances below lol

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

So for me, I've got Yuko's main colours down as pink and green in contrast with Nishiki's red and blue (when he's not wearing the black and white), with pastel tones vs jewel tones. She avoids muted, washed out palettes, and will wear black but not white. Reminds her of the hospital.

But when I consider the frog animal motif I naturally start thinking of poison dart frogs, and aposematism. That thing when animals will have brightly coloured patterns to warn of danger. "Eat me and I'll kill us both". Power with weakness, danger not from one's own strength, not the ability to fight and come out on top, but that one's death means their opponents too. If I'm going then I'm taking you with me.

And suddenly I imagine Yuko in red and yellow.

[arr-jim-lad]

a lot of people still have trouble spotting AI art and i just want to give some quick tips on how i usually quickly recognize it

often it's the smoothness of the image that sets off my initial alarms, a distinct lack of minor textures you'd expect from real things.

sometimes the texture doesn't match what it was supposed to represent, and often things look oddly soft and rubbery. the light doesn't bounce off it quite right and it feels over-rendered.

i've seen weird random blurring on many AI works as well

The longer you look, the more you realize that it's lopsided in several places, positions and distances of objects make no sense.

A closer inspection usually makes you notice the smudged details, which i think is what truly gives it away - AI mimics real patterns, but doesn't always nail them.

More complex small objects get smudged and blended together, and complex patterns look more like an oil spill rather than anything designed with clear vision and intent.

If there are any letters, they never look real or readable

I've seen people AI generate ""historical"" objects and paintings and post them with a fake caption, claiming that they are real

Be wary, because we live in a very uncertain age when it comes to information. Learn to spot AI-generated images, reverse image search and fact-check when something seems off.

In this case it's just a fake camera, but this technology can, will, and already is used in much more malicious ways.

[abandonedandforgottentimes]

Many of the younger ccs speaking up about Wilbur's manipulation is INCREDIBLY concerning, and I don't think they'll be the last. I think it's also a big indication that it happened to Tommy too, and that he'll take a while to respond. People demanding an immediate response need to remember that he was likely a victim of it too, he just may not have been aware of it.

I mean, Wilbur's ADMITTED he relied on Tommy for his mental health when he was still a minor. That is NOT something adults should ever do and it has always been odd to me. It also makes it very hard for the minor involved to leave the friendship, since they see themselves as responsible for the older person. I don't think I need to really go into how unhealthy that sort of thing is, it isn't an uncommon occurrence and lot of people will have a better explanation than me. But it is something to keep in mind, that Tommy may feel responsible or have been groomed to excuse the behavior.

The library stream is another example of the manipulation, and I'm surprised no one is talking about it. Tommy literally talked about how uncomfortable he was at Wilbur's house. It was cold, he had no blanket, he didn't want to keep staying there, he would rather be out in public at night in a strange place. Then Wilbur just shows up out of nowhere and tells Tommy he's misremembering/being dramatic and pretty much shuts him up, gets him to stop talking shit about him. Everyone's exasperation with Tommy in the situation (being a minor alone and uncomfortable and uncertain of what to do, far from home with nowhere to go), helped Wilbur pull Tommy back in and convince him to go back to his house, especially since it was passed off as Wilbur being caring.

It was obvious to me during the stream that Tommy was telling the truth and Wilbur was the one lying, but I figured he was just being defensive because he didn't want all that online. Now we know that he had a LOT more to hide about his living situation that he didn't want being spilled, and manipulators/abusers don't tend to like it when someone goes and starts talking about the truth. They want to downplay it as much as possible, and Wilbur showing up in person to shut Tommy up and make fun of him for not wanting to stay with him, make it more lighthearted, is incredibly telling and I'm surprised I haven't seen anyone point that out.

There are so many other things I found odd throughout the years that finally have a proper explanation to them, but that's just a few examples. I'm not going to get too much further into it. Wilbur isn't who we should be focusing on, I just needed to get that out to move on from it.

I do think pointing out that Tommy has openly been manipulated is important because it may cause him to take a while to respond openly to all this while he processes. If Wilbur treated so many of his ex-friends badly it's safe to assume he did it to all of them, and we need to give everyone involved time to stop and think about the situation. A lot of people want Tommy to respond immediately, but he will need time to do that and it's only fair we give him the space to do that properly.

I also think it is so, so incredible that Shelby has given so many people the space and bravery to come forward. I believe there will be more people speaking up soon, they just need time. Support her and other victims!