#like than other things like art or writing

[dyaz-stories]

don't get cut on my edges || gojo satoru x reader

synopsis: Gojo is easily bored, you're the latest enigma that's caught his interest. He sets off in trying to figure you out. Lucky for him, you're coming on the week-end trip Shoko's planned for the week-end.

“Was I off script?”

You look up at him.

“You’re always off script.”

word count: 5.4k

genre: college!AU, fluff, slice of life

cw: unresolved sexual and romantic tension, reader has anxiety and is socially awkward, she/her is used for the reader, a little suggestive, overall very sweet and fluffy

a/n: this was fun to write! any feedback is appreciated, and i hope you enjoy my writing here :)

soundtrack

Gojo knows that people talk, knows that they talk shit, knows that there isn’t a soul on campus that doesn’t have an opinion on him. He can tell that eyes follow him around when he walks into a room, that his presence is enough to shift the atmosphere at a gathering, that some people roll their eyes at him while others try their best to catch his attention. It’s a lot to take in, for just one person.

Fortunately, he’s proved to be incredibly gifted in the art of not giving a fuck.

Then again, he’s incredibly gifted in most areas of life. Truth be told, he thinks people aren’t giving him enough credit for that. Sure, they tend to know that he’s a physics major, but that’s just tangential to what they know about the rest of him. He’s not just kinda good at physics, not some dude that goes to college mostly for the parties and then get a meaningless job at daddy’s company, no, he’s the fucking best, and he works fucking hard to be able to claim that title.

But that doesn’t really fit in with the rest of him, and at the end of the day, who cares? He certainly doesn’t.

With all that, it’s not statistically unlikely for him to catch people talking about him.

Well, he’d have to conduct a detailed study to calculate the exact odds, but with how much alcohol is in his blood at this very moment, it makes sense to him that it would happen.

Still, for people to be talking about him at a party he is at, in front of an open window, you’d think they would have some sense of shame. Not that he has any room to talk, because shame is not part of his vocabulary, but like. Come on.

“Gojo really can’t take not being in the spotlight for more than ten seconds, huh?”

That voice, he’s quick to identify, even if he can’t see her face from where’s he’s standing under the porch, belongs to Mei Mei. Aw. Bummer. They’d spent quite a lot of time around each other, have friends in common, slept— Wait, have they slept together? He can’t say for sure anymore. It seems to have slipped from his mind. Oops. Maybe that’s why he’s getting that treatment. Maybe he deserves it.

There’s a scoff, and really, the acoustic of this place are impressive. It feels like he’s straight in the room with those people.

“What else do you expect from someone who’s always had everything served to him on a silver platter?”

And that would be Noritoshi Kamo. Man. That was one of the few kids in the families his parents insisted on frequenting. They used to be sat next to each other at the kiddie table while the adults talked about the important stuff. They never had much in common — not then, not now. And, after all, maybe Noritoshi has a point, after all. His mother wasn’t a mistress, wasn’t turned into an outcast, and he’s never had to pretend he didn’t hear the loud whispers that tarnished her name. Yeah. Sounds like these two aren’t saying anything new after all. Not that he’s gonna change, y’know, but he already knows who he is, and he is all that.

“That seems like a very mean thing to say about a friend,” a quiet voice comments.

The world freezes.

A silhouette appears to go along with the voice, then a blurry face, then the picture becomes clearer. A figure sitting next to Shoko, giving him sweet, polite smiles when he approaches. Not chatty, kinda shy, pretty cute. Would get quiet when he was near, though, so he hadn’t paid a ton of attention. He’s used to giving it to people who asked for it, who wanted it.

You’d never asked.

But you’re… not wrong. He’s not sure why he hadn’t picked up on it himself. It is a mean thing to say.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Mei Mei protests, “I love Gojo, but you know I’m right about this.”

“Yeah, and I’ve known him my whole life,” Kamo adds. “It’s just a fact, we’re not talking shit.”

There’s a silence. Gojo’s invested now.

“I don’t know him that well,” you say. “Like I said. It’s just a mean thing to say about someone you hang out with every day.”

“Come on, don’t act like—”

“I think I’m going to go, actually,” you say. “This feels super shitty.”

“What the fuck was that?” Mei Mei laughs, just a second later — presumably after you’ve left the room.

“She wants to fuck him, I guess,” Kamo says.

Well, you’re making one hell of a headway then, because he’d do you so hard after that.

When he walks back in, you’re chatting with Shoko. You give him your usual, close-lipped smile, don’t quite make eye-contact. If you’re trying to get in his pants, you have a very original way of getting it done.

“Who was your friend again?” he asks Shoko, later that night. She answers without looking up from her phone.

“She doesn’t talk much when there are new people around,” she warns him. “Leave her alone.”

“When have I ever bothered anyone—”

She reaches to smack the back of his head, misses and gets the nape of his neck — that’s the downside about being so tall, there’s just a lot of him to hit.

“Don’t make her uncomfortable. That’s all I’m asking.”

He wasn’t planning on that. He’s just— curious. Intrigued.

It’s unlikely to last, though. He’s been known to get bored easily.

You’re already in the car when he gets in. Well, okay, when he gets shoved inside by Todo, despite his protests that his legs are too long for the backseat. You’ve squeezed yourself in the middle seat, with Shoko on one side, and him on the other now. There’s a bag of snacks in your lap, yet you still try to shift yourself to give him a little more room. It doesn’t help at all, but in your defense, the only thing that could help would be to buy a new car.

“Is everyone ready?” Suguru asks as he adjusts the rearview mirror.

“Sure,” Shoko says.

“Let’s go!” Todo shouts.

“No,” Gojo whines.

“Yeah,” you say, completely drowned out under the rest.

“Good,” Suguru hums as he starts the engine.

Gojo pouts, but he doesn’t insist. Well, he doesn’t make any more of a scene than he already has. Truth be told, he could have taken Todo — dude might be all brute force, but Gojo has brains and brawns, thank you very much.

But he’s curious, still, and he hasn’t been given enough information to quite satiate his curiosity. Everything he’s gathered about you says that you mind your business and keep to your corner.

So why did you say that to Mei Mei and Kamo? It makes no sense, but Gojo’s never met an equation he couldn’t solve.

That’s an overstatement. Obviously there are equations he can’t solve. Yet. He’s sure he’d figure it out eventually. Like he’ll figure you out. See? That metaphor does make sense.

Suguru’s music is playing in the car. The sun is still low in the sky, the day is quickly getting warmer, and the phone says that they’ll be at the beach in two hours.

Satoru closes his eyes. Fun fact about him? He can fall asleep anywhere he wants to.

He wakes up with his face smooshed against the window, a hand tapping his shoulder carefully.

“We’re here,” you say, giving him a smile and then shuffling to leave the car from the other side.

Todo’s already running towards the beach, while Suguru and Shoko are getting the bags out of the trunk. Somehow, Shoko manages to sling a bag over his shoulder, but he takes off before she can stuff the cool box containing all the drinks in his arms.

He then lies to Todo to get him back to the car, so that he can carry the damn thing. Shoko better thank him later for that.

He catches up with you, and he sees your eyes widen a little when he approaches, as you visibly search for something to say. He can’t resist the temptation to shoot you a grin. There’s a light breeze in the air, but he won’t be fooled that easily — with his skin, he’s going to need an insane amount of sunscreen, if he wants to survive the day. Which makes him think, actually—

“Wanna help me apply sunscreen?” he asks.

“Huh?” you say.

He leans towards you, looks into your eyes from over his sunglasses. You appear to be fully frozen in place, only swallowing once as he gets closer. His grin gets wider as he takes in all of you, and he’s once more fascinated by the idea that you had been able to say something to Mei Mei and Kamo but you can barely face him.

His gaze drops to your parted lips.

Then the bottle of sunscreen smashes against his cheek with impressive precision.

“Todo can help you put that on!” Shoko offers as Suguru starts setting up a parasol. “Right, Todo?”

“Of course I will, my brother,” Todo say as he appears, but by then, Satoru has already started running for his life.

“Just kick him in the balls if he pulls something like that again,” Shoko says.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” you reply, shaking your head in mild horror. “I just— I don’t— know— how to react sometimes. But he doesn’t bother me.”

That statement has her raising an eyebrow at you, filled with doubt, but she doesn’t insist.

“Play nice,” she does warn Satoru once more, later on. “Don’t push it too much.”

“Aw, Shoko, are you saying you wouldn’t approve of me?”

“Do whatever you want to,” she replies, rolling her eyes, “but give her more space. She’s not used to you being… you.”

Satoru rests his chin on his knee. He’s taking refuge under the parasol for now, and you’re already in the waves with Todo and Suguru. You seem comfortable with Todo, laughing at something he said, less so with Suguru. It all looks like a lot of work, all to satiate his curiosity. He’s all about committing to the bit but— he doesn’t know about that one.

This, too, all this thinking and questioning, is a lot of work, though, so he ends up shrugging it off.

“Are we getting in or what?”

“Absolutely not. No— Gojo— Don’t you fucking dare— Gojo!”

Shoko’s full-on shrieking by the time he throws her in the water. You burst out laughing. She comes out screaming for revenge, and Gojo starts scampering around to try and avoid her.

The sun is high in the sky, there’s a light breeze.

The time is good.

“Satoru!” Suguru calls when the watch on his wrist starts beeping, “it’s been two hours!”

It takes a second for the information to reach his brain, but the second he understands it, Gojo’s sprinting back towards the parasol at full speed. You look up, surprised, from the towel on which you’re lying with a book. Shoko doesn’t even bother with lifting an eyelid to see what’s going on.

“You okay?” you ask.

Ah, so she does speak.

“Yeah,” Gojo says, ruffling through a bag. “Just need to reapply some sunscreen. I’m not trying to look like a lobster.”

“Oh,” you say, “so, did you want me to help you with that?”

His fingers finally close around the bottle, and he stills to look at you. Shit. He’s curious again. Shoko’s words are swirling around in his mind, though, and he has no interest in forcing your hand.

“You didn’t look like you wanted to do that,” he says with uncharacteristic caution.

You roll your lips together, glance away from him, and your hand curls into a fist in the sand.

“No, it’s just— Um, I’m sorry about earlier. You— caught me off guard, I guess. I couldn’t figure out what to answer.”

“I usually just go with whatever appears through my head first,” he shrugs as he comes to crouch in front of you — you in the sun, him in the shade.

You laugh softly, but you avert your eyes, focusing on the sand as you trace patterns in it.

“Yeah, I think that’s the preferred method, but it— doesn’t— really work for me. So I have— I have a script, kind of, for interactions.”

“And I was off script?”

You glance back up at him.

“You’re always off script.”

For a moment, he just looks into your eyes, and you look back without any of that earlier nervousness. Then you shrink back into yourself, and the smile that so rarely leaves your lips reappears, like a shield that comes back up.

“Sorry. I know— I know how silly this sounds. I also wish I didn’t feel the need to do that, I just, um—”

“All good,” he replies with a shrug. “Sure. Help me with that.”

He throws you the bottle and you miss it, and he can feel you eyerolling at his back without needing to turn around, but when he shoots you a grin from over his shoulder, he can see how your breath catches in your throat.

Softly, your hand goes over his back, your touch gentle and cautious. It feels quite nice, actually, especially when your nails brush over his skin.

“It’s not too cold?” you ask.

“All good,” he repeats.

Shit. He’s invested again.

“Okay, we have the tickets, we have the water bottles, we have the hats, we have flat shoes, we have Gojo, we have the car keys—”

“I’m sorry, why was I just in the middle of a list of belongings?”

“We have cellphones and portable batteries… I think we’re good,” Shoko concludes, fully ignoring him.

“You don’t think we’re just a touch overprepared?” Suguru asks.

“You can never overprepare, my brother,” Todo says, grabbing his shoulder firmly. “If you want to triumph in the face of adversity, you need to know everything about the enemy.”

Suguru opens his mouth, closes it again. He knows how to pick his battles.

Gojo doesn’t.

“We’re going to a festival, not trying to breech the Pentagon,” he deadpans, and then, from the corner of his eye, he tries to see if you’re laughing. He delights in how you lower your head and try to keep it discreet.

“You never know what—”

“If I have to hear a second more of this nonsense, I swear to God I’ll kill someone here,” Shoko announces cheerfully. “Let’s move.”

Finally, after a good fifteen minutes by the door of the Airbnb you’ve all spent the night in, you start moving.

The good news is that you don’t have to get in the car, in the smothering heat, to get on the overcrowded streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. The bad news is that you have to walk there, in the smothering heat, near the streets packed full with the cars of the other attendees. Suguru’s in charge of the map, which everyone seems happy with. Gojo had offered to do it, too, and there’s not a shred of doubt that he’d be able to read it competently, but Shoko had insisted the risk of him taking everyone to the wrong place ‘just because it would be funny’ was too high.

She’d been right but like, that was still rude.

The march in the heat and the waiting in line, while painful and unpleasant, as Gojo makes sure everyone around him is well aware of, go pretty smooth. Everything is planned and accounted for. There’s a game plan once they make it into the festival, too, because of course there is, but that’s when things start going south. First, Todo tries to go rogue when he spots someone wearing Takada merch. She’s not performing here, but he’s heard rumors that there would be a stand for her, and he lurches towards the woman. He’d get lost in the crowd immediately if not for Gojo’s lightning fast reflexes.

Unfortunately, soon enough it’s Gojo’s turn to get distracted. What can he say, there’s the smell of sugar in the air, and he needs to know where it’s coming from. Suguru’s the one to get him back on track, as they all head towards the main stage. Because that’s what Shoko’s grand plan leads to: sweet, sweet, close-up spots to watch the Sorcerers, headliners for the festival and also unarguably greatest band of all times, with minimum wait before their show.

There are a couple other close calls, but the group manages to get close enough to the stage. There are people here already, but they’re here for other artists mostly, and they’ll no doubt move quite a bit before the start of the real show. From where they are, even you and Shoko will be able to— Wait a minute.

“Huh,” Gojo say. “Hey, Shoko, do you happen to see (y/n) around?”

“If you can’t see her from up there, why would you think I— Fuck.”

“A fallen soldier,” Todo sighs somberly. “Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices for—"

“We should go get her,” Shoko interrupts him. She’s biting her lower lip, staring at her phone. She looks quite worried, Gojo notices as he stares at her.

“Why isn’t it enough to just text her?” Gojo asks. It’s not ideal, and it won’t be easy to find the group in the middle of this sea of people, but it’s not impossible.

“I just— I don’t know if she’ll want to deal with all that” she gestures at the crowd “alone. I’m afraid she’ll say she doesn’t mind and then she won’t have a good time.”

Gojo tilts his head. It wouldn’t cross his mind to say something he doesn’t mean. It’s an incredibly weird thought, actually. But Shoko’s better than him at, well, people, and she might have a point. He also doesn’t want you to have a bad time, after all. With one last glance at the stage, he nods at her.

“I’ll go get her.”

“Are you sure?” Suguru asks. “I can go, if you want me to. It’s your band.”

As if it isn’t his, too. But Gojo shrugs. His attention span is fleeting, and he’s got his sights on something else right now.

“Nah, don’t worry. I’ll make it back.”

“Thanks,” Shoko says sincerely.

He waves vaguely at her before making his way back through the crowd, earning his fair share of nasty glances. He still doesn’t care.

A few minutes later, he receives a text from Shoko with a screengrab where you say you’re getting something to eat. Sure enough, he has no trouble finding you waiting in line. You’re typing on your phone, not paying attention to your surroundings, and he’s grinning already. He lets himself half fall on you, arm wrapping around your body as he drops his chin onto your shoulder. You jump, glancing back bewildered, but you don’t stay tense long once you see it’s him.

Which makes him feel things, actually, but he’ll unpack that later.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, brow furrowing. “I thought you guys would be in front of the stage by now.”

“I came to rescue the princess, obviously,” he says, and you laugh. You laugh a lot when he talks, instead of rolling your eyes like people usually do.

Maybe you’re a bit too good of an audience.

“I don’t need rescuing, Gojo,” you answer, and it’s interesting how calm your voice is. “It’s packed too tight for me in here. I told Shoko but…” You shrug. “It’s not always easy to understand how it is. For me.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I don’t get it at all.”

Your shoulder’s pretty comfortable, though. And you haven’t tried to get him off of you yet.

“Do you want to order something, too?” you ask, pointing at the food stand. They sell waffles, and just the smell has his mouth watering. “Strawberries and whipped cream, right?”

Gojo pauses.

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it. A few times, actually.”

He’s sure he has, but—

“You were listening to that?”

You blink at him. He realizes how close your face is, with his head on your shoulder.

“Of course I was. You were talking.”

“Shoko didn’t tell you? It’s like, rule number one of being around me, don’t listen to the stuff I say. There’s a lot of dumb shit in there.”

You tilt your head, looking kind of confused.

“I still want to hear what you’re saying.”

Something inside him feels warm all of a sudden. Very warm.

“Yeah,” he says, but his throat is tight. “Strawberries and whipped cream.”

When you step forward to they can take your order, he begrudgingly gets off your shoulder, which allows him to swipe his card before you can get to it.

“I had that,” you protest while he bites into the insane amount of whipped cream in his waffle — he asked for more until the guy behind the counter looked like he was going to murder him.

“I had it first,” he says, and then he sticks his tongue out at you. He anticipates your laugh this time, finds himself waiting on it. When it comes, it sounds just like he wanted it to.

For a while, the two of you sit on a fence. You hand him a water bottle, say that he needs to stay hydrated. With no one else around, you don’t seem to have such a hard time speaking. You’re so quiet when everyone’s there and, well, him and Todo take up a lot of space, when it comes to conversation. Neither Suguru nor Shoko struggle with making their voices heard either, and in the middle of all that, you tend to stay silent. Apparently, that doesn’t stop you from listening.

“Shouldn’t you be going back?” you ask, after a while.

Gojo tilts his head as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I’m good. Let’s find some place where you can enjoy the show.”

“You don’t have to—”

A grin, and then he’s jumping from the fence to come stand in front of you. Even like that, he doesn’t have to look up to meet your eyes.

“And how d’you plan on stopping me?”

Your eyes go wide. He can almost hear your heart racing, and he thinks he’s starting to get a little too high on that feeling. It’s just so easy, so fun, so delicious.

“Okay,” you squeak, averting your eyes and jumping down after him, clearly trying to hide your reaction. “Okay, I’m coming.”

When you start walking by his side, grabbing your hand is just too easy not to do it.

“Wouldn’t want you to run away again,” is what he says as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Now you’re stuck with me.”

You still refuse to look at him, but there is no actual discomfort in your reaction, just what he thinks is uncertainty about how you’re supposed to behave now.

“Have I gone off script again?” he practically purrs.

You glance up, a flash of amusement on your face. Lots of fondness, too, and this time he’s the one who gets caught up in it.

“You haven’t been on script once today.”

“Good,” he says, managing to pass off the emotion that just choked him for a second there as impatience. “Someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“I’m always on my toes,” you mumble behind him, but you can’t explain to him what anxiety feels like, so you just let him drag you away. His fingers are long, his hand engulfs yours easily. You like the feeling of it more than you should.

Your eyes are on Gojo’s broad back as he pulls you through the crowd, which parts effortlessly for him. You’re enjoying this.

You don’t think it’s going to last.

Gojo doesn’t think about that though, just like he rarely thinks about tomorrows. What he’s thinking about, as he keeps far, far away from the stage, is how to find a place with enough air around for the two of you. It’s easy for him to get a good look at the stage, and he earns his fair share of pissed off glares — “Seriously, it should be illegal to come to an open-air stage when you’re that tall” — but it takes more work to get the perfect space for you. Finally, his eagle eyes figure out some place that’s just perfect, and he beelines for it with you in tow.

“There,” he says, pulling you in front of him and putting his head on top of yours, just to check that the line of sight is good enough.

Ha. He nailed it.

“Thanks,” you say. There’s surprise in your tone.

“Is this a good spot for you?” he checks, but really, he just wants to hear you praise him?

“It is, but— I thought you said you didn’t get it? My—” You gesture vaguely. “—struggle. With all that stuff.”

Oh right. You actually listen to what he says. He needs to keep that in mind for the future.

“Does it matter?” he asks with a shrug.

You stare. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out, and then the crowd starts absolutely howling and you spin around to see the Sorcerersget on the stage. Whatever moment there was there, is forgotten right away. He sees you fish in your bag for your phone, then raise it over your head and tiptoe around, trying to get a good photo.

It’s cute, it’s adorable even, but it’s not very efficient.

“Do you want some help here?” he asks, leaning close to your ear so you can hear him over all the noise.

Your body shivers into him, and he files that away for later.

“Um, yeah,” you shout over the noise. “Here, could you—”

But he pays no attention to the way you offer him your cellphone, and instead he’s bending down, and ignoring your surprised protest as he pushes his head between your legs.

He bench presses a hell of a lot more than he looks like he does, for the record.

With a grunt, he manages to get you up on his shoulders, and some people behind him complain loudly, but whatever, they can wait for you to get the perfect picture. You struggle to stabilize yourself for a dangerous second, and then you stop moving around for a second. Your thighs are supple and warm under his hands and around his head.

One more thing to remember.

“I’m good, I’m good, get me down,” you say quickly, just as he’s storing the thought away.

You seem relieved when your feet get back on the ground, and Satoru lets his hands linger on your waist.

“Was it a nice pic?” he asks. He knows he’s all red in the face, but he’s grinning so wide it almost hurts, actually.

“Perfect,” you squeak. “Thank you. Again.”

Aw. He’s going to get used to that word real quick.

A familiar guitar riff comes from the stage, and you turn away from him once more, but his hands are still on your waist. He uses that to pull you against him and this time, you don’t hesitate to let yourself lean back against him as the two of you move in rhythm with the music.

The concert is a blur after that. There’s a lot of singing, a lot of screaming, basically no time to catch a breath, because the Sorcerers are fucking beasts that don’t let up, not even for a second. At some point, you tell him something, but he can’t really hear, so you crane your neck back and he lowers his head. Your lips brush against his neck, an accident really, but it sends such a jolt of electricity through him, he thinks he’ll go into full overdrive.

The only thing that stops him from chasing after your lips immediately after that is Shoko’s voice, going around in his mind. ‘Don’t push it.’ What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

You move away, and he still has no clue what you were saying. If after that, his hands hold your hips a little tighter, if he pulls you a little closer, he can’t be blamed. If, during one of the more sulfurous song of the show, as you’re swaying against him, humming along to the song, his lips find your neck, he doesn’t want to hear about it.

When he presses a kiss right by your jaw, you turn to look at him. You’re pretty. He’s always thought you were pretty.

Fuck Shoko, he thinks, and he’s ready to put his mouth on yours, to slide his tongue between your parted lips that have looked so inviting this entire week-end, when the riff of the band’s most popular song starts playing, and he loses you attention once more.

Cock-blocked by his favorite band. Fuck his life.

When the song ends, there’s movement in the crowd as the band gets off the stage and people start chanting for an encore. In Shoko’s fool proof, perfect plan, this is when you’re supposed to start leaving. Gojo doesn’t want to — how is he supposed to do anything about how much he wants his mouth on you once you’re back with the other — but this time you grab his hand and pull him away from the stage and he has even less of a clue of what he’s supposed to do about that.

You get to the meeting point before Shoko, Todo and Suguru, which makes sense, considering you were much further from the stage than them. It’s a specific pole that Shoko had pointed to as you were first getting in, and the urge to push you against it and to taste your lips is strong. Gojo isn’t typically one to ignore that kind of feeling. He just goes for it, doesn’t let his brain get in the way too much. He’s not sure what it is with you and your doe eyes and your sweet smile that makes him act different.

Whatever it is, it makes him ask “Did you have a good time?” instead of kissing you senseless behind the pole while watching to make sure Shoko doesn’t catch him in the act.

“It was amazing,” you say. “I don’t think— I don’t think I’d have gotten that close without you.”

“Did I force your hand?” he asks, frowning.

“No, no, that was great, actually.” And there it comes, his favorite words, and then he’ll kiss you. “Thank—”

“There you guys are!”

You have got to be kidding him. The Gods of timing are so set against him, he must have done something to piss them off badly in another life.

“Okay, we should start heading towards the exit,” Shoko announces.

“Nah, we ‘re staying until the end,” Gojo says, burying his hands, balled into fists, in his pockets. He’s being needlessly belligerent, but whatever, she deserves it, whether she knows it or not.

“Don’t be a dick,” she glares.

He smiles at her. And he doesn’t budge.

“We’ll run,” you say, stepping in. “I’m sure we can still beat the crowd if we run.”

She narrows her eyes at you, then at Gojo.

“You’re a bad influence, you know that?”

So many delicious thoughts coming to him, and he can’t do anything about it. Damn it all.

Of course, it ends with the five of you sprinting on the lawn and all the way back to the house. Of course, he doesn’t catch five seconds with you after that. Of course, your face is on his mind the whole night.

Of course, because it’s just his luck, isn’t it, in the morning, Shoko tells him you had to catch a flight early in the morning.

“I told you, don’t you remember? She’s going back to her family for the summer.”

Of course, he doesn’t.

Ah, whatever. It bothers him for a minute, but then the day continues unfolding, and the sun’s warm, it’s the peak of summer, and he only really knew you for a couple of days. He’ll see how he feels about it when college starts up again in the fall. He’s not known for sticking with things, anyway. He’ll probably forget; you probably won’t capture him again like you did; it was probably a fluke.

That, or these will become famous last words.

sequel

thank you so much for reading! i had a ton of fun writing gojo's pov and i hope you enjoyed it too, even if i'm still finding his voice :) please reblog or comment if you've enjoyed this, i'd love to hear from you! getting readers' feedback on my writing is what keeps me motivated to write so if you'd like to read more from me, that's the way to do it!

tagging the people who expressed interest in this: @elidebrey @xstom @chosospookiebear @xmysticredx

[quibbs126]

Dark choco cookie x milk cookie fan kid plz

This is like my 2nd oldest unfinished request by now, over a year old, but I got it done finally, this is Choco Milk Cookie

So to be honest, I’m not sure what gender Choco Milk is. They started out as a guy, but as it went on and as I look at the final product, I’m not so sure anymore. I’m making them nonbinary then

Anyways, so Choco Milk lives in the Milk Village, and they work in building construction, in part due to their incredible strength (and because they want to help people by giving them homes). They do work outside of the village and help around any parts of the kingdom, whoever needs it

They’re a very calm individual, not having much of a temper. They also don’t fight, though they can throw a punch if needed

While they like chocolate milk, their favorite food is the hot cheese soup from the Milk Village, which they are enjoying in the sketch. They enjoy cheese in general, they say it goes very well with chocolate

Choco Milk was supposed to have a twin, named Milk Choco, but I didn’t end up making them, I could only think of stuff for Choco Milk. Though maybe one day I’ll draw Milk Choco, I’m not opposed to Chilk still having a twin

The names Choco Milk and Milk Choco came from the fact that both can come from a combination of milk and chocolate. There’s no real elaborate thought to their ingredients

Chocolate milk:

So I recognize that Choco Milk’s colors, on the surface, aren’t the most similar to their parents, with the light brown hair and eyes. I was mostly basing their color scheme on Milk’s chocolate costume in Kingdom. And I made their eyes like that because they’re a milk Cookie, even if they’re also chocolate. Tried to give them a more red tint though

I also added in those white streaks to reference Dark Choco. I think it works as a pop of bright color

The hair was giving me trouble at the front, but I think I got something all right out of it? The back of their hair is supposed to be a mullet, sort of like what Brock Samson has

I also made Choco Milk’s outfit brown instead of the blue/white of the Milk Tribe, but it works with them being chocolate. Probably makes them stand out in the village though

I do wonder if their outfit looks too similar to White Velvet. Whom I now realize I never fully finished or posted. Should go back and do that. But I bring it up since they both have the poncho and live in the Milk Village. And are both supposed to have the milk eyes. Maybe I should change that on White Velvet, not sure

But anyways, I think that’s about it on Choco Milk. I think they turned out pretty all right

And yeah, hope you like them!

[sunflower-fields070]

As the SMP comes to an end in just under a month, I'd like to say a few words of appreciation to you all.

To start, the Cast. You all need a lot more credit than you get. With all of the commands you do behind the scenes of lore, and all the time and effort to make cutscenes, art or cosplay, or even in minecraft, we all thank you for such a wonderful job you do. I started watching Fable SMP during August last year (Sherbert's last sherbathon) and have loved it since the first episode we watched there. Slowly, I managed to get really into it and then the brainrot hit. Though I thank you for it. Without this SMP I don't think I could ever be where I am now. You guys have created a wonderful story that helped me realise things about myself, and you all have created a safe and all-including space here on the discord server. Without that, I wouldn't be as motivated to write, or as confident to talk in VC and even sometimes show my face. Thank you.

And to you, Chatters. Thank you for all you've done to support and uplift not just me, but everyone in this community, to make a welcoming space for new people and assist them in how to quickly catch up to lore in this next month before the finale. As someone who was very nervous first joining this community and to talk on these online platforms, you have allowed me to gain comfortability and grow as a person, fanfic writer who wrote that one prison duo fic, and occasional artist. You also helped me grow comfortable with talking and sometimes even showing my face in VC, especially after I had some not-great experiences in other servers.

So in conclusion, the one thing I have to say is Thank you. <3 yes i was being sappy today, i love you guys <3

[katuschka]

Olalla – Chapter 01

Josh Kiszka x female OC, Jake Kiszka 4.965 words

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere. Warnings: sadness, heartbreak, talking about death, anxiety, alcohol consumption

Taglist

I had a dream that the sky above the mountains darkened, but it was just my beloved’s darkening eyes. 

I had a dream there was a lightning brightening the skies above those hills, but it was just my beloved’s cheeks that lightened. 

I had a dream in which I saw storm clouds approaching, but it was just a boy making love to his beloved. (I Had a Dream, Čechomor)

It was true that Jake and Josh had seen the world, but their trips and explorations were always restricted by time. Everything was scheduled, planned and adjusted to fit the itinerary. Wherever they went, it was – first and foremost – a “business trip”. Sometimes they had days in between shows, oftentimes just hours. Be there on time. We don’t have enough time. You can visit only one of those galleries this time. Maybe next time... They were now rapidly approaching thirty, but haven’t yet experienced the simple joy of backpacking with all its perks and benefits. Freedom being probably the most important of them. 

So, when the last show ended and it was time to fly back home, they decided to stay behind for a little while. It was a spontaneous decision, made in Josh’s hotel room after having had one too many beverages with several other people, none of whom shared their enthusiasm. Everyone just wanted to go home. They say there’s nothing like home and it’s true that there had been times when it meant something to the two of them as well, even after months spent away from it. But right now, their beds back home were cold and empty – a sad consequence, as well as a memento, of the lives they’d lived and the things they’d done. Could it have been prevented? Maybe, but what is past is past. It was the present that could and should be taken care of, and there was still the future to be shaped. 

Even though the others tried to talk sense into them and nearly succeeded, by 4 am, the two of them finally made up their minds that it was time to really choose the road. “Time to write my own fucking screenplay,” Josh said. After a short nap, they repacked the essentials, said their goodbyes and hopped the train that was supposed to take them to all those yet to be discovered places. 

Because it was summertime, last-minute accommodation options were pretty limited in larger cities. That only made it even more exciting, though, and turned out to be quite beneficial in the end. More often than not, they had to share a room that only had one king size bed. Not only they didn’t mind, it seemed as the most natural thing to do, and they welcomed it. Sightseeing or hiking during daylight hours, they didn’t want to part and disappear in their separate dens in the evening, like they did on tour. Touring – with all the rush and stress and boredom – often made them feel lonely. 

They knew they had been hurting, they were well aware of the reasons why, but there had not been enough time to come clean about it. So, now, their late night talks often ended with at least one of them crying as the reminiscences of the people who no longer wanted to be part of their lives turned into shared melancholy. 

Sharing…that’s what the trip turned out to be really about. Two brothers who once shared a womb, who later forged their mutual dreams about healing humankind through art into their shared destiny. Now they opened up to each other about how much they feared loneliness and lack of love. And it was a shared fear, too. It wouldn't be fair to say that there wasn’t enough love or affection in their lives, on the contrary. They were showered with it in great abundance. Their parents, siblings, other family members and all their numerous friends all loved them dearly and unconditionally, simply because they existed. The plentitude of it, including their mutual love for each other, shaped their personalities and nurtured their souls as they grew up. 

That’s how they learned about the importance of love. They knew very well how lucky they were. Forever grateful, they wanted to share it and to pass it on…and then they were told that they didn’t. The reality hit them in their faces like a freight train loaded with reproach.

That’s how they found themselves mourning the kind of love they thought they failed to provide, the one they thought they consequently didn’t deserve. Once they conceded this to each other, they had to face the fact that they felt ashamed. They also had to admit that their own broken hearts still hurt, the raw and barely healed wounds opening up again during those midnight talks. A few times they fell asleep in a comforting embrace. 

Wawel Castle, Krakow 

“I think we should head back to the hotel.” 

When Jake came back from the bathroom, Josh was still leaning over the railings, looking down at the river bend just below the high stone outer wall. He felt so much at peace up here, the fragrant summer air saturated with the scent of trees, damp stone, vanilla ice cream – as well as sudden whiff of ozone – filling his nostrils. They weren’t alone here. The courtyard was still full of people at this time of day, but the humidity muffled all the conversations as well as shrieking kids that were running around, and turned it all into a pleasant hum. It all felt almost dreamlike. Somewhere in the distance, less than a hundred miles further south, were the mountains…

Their adventure was nearing the end, it was their time to fly home the next day. It had rained heavily that morning and the forecast for the whole day promised volatile weather as the fronts collided, but that didn’t stop them. There were still a few places in Krakow which particularly Josh wanted to visit. Not really in a hurry, they went out for early lunch; later they were just idling around in the old town, eating pretzels and doughnuts, drunk on wine. It was almost 5 pm now. 

“You're probably right,” Josh finally replied, looking at the sky with a frown, “but I’d really love to stay here a little longer.” 

Jake didn’t say anything, just nodded. They stood next to each other for another ten minutes, overlooking the southern part of the city as well as ominous clouds that had formed near the horizon and were now slowly approaching. The wind was rising, playing with their hair, tossing the strands wildly from side to side. They should have been running for shelter by now, but the fresh breeze made them feel completely and utterly reckless. Jake started humming a familiar tune and Josh quickly chimed in: “But the fool on the hill sees the Sun going down

And the eyes in his head see the world spinning 'round…” …and they bursted out laughing like two madmen as the other people around them scrambled in their feet, looking for a place to hide, girls squeaking as the first raindrops hit the ground.

Now they were running too, heading back to the Old Town, passing crowded restaurants and pubs that didn’t appeal to them anyway. People were running around like ants and the storm clouds and the heavy rain quickly covered the streets in a blanket of semi-darkness. Soon they no longer knew where they were headed. They obviously missed a turn back to the main square and not much later found themselves on a much more quiet and nearly abandoned street that probably wasn’t on a tourist map. The storm hit in full force. 

“Not a fucking thunder,” Jake groaned. They were both already absolutely drenched. Trying to find their way back to the hotel in the pouring rain now proved completely futile as they were probably at least a mile away from it anyway, and being no longer in the area of fancy cafés and parfumeries, looking for shelter of any kind wasn’t that easy anymore, either. A small – and already closed –  grocery shop here, a tenement doorway there…finally they spotted a pub that looked promising. Both of them craved a beer anyway. 

The pub was pretty cozy and warm. It was actually more like a café, only situated below the street level, in the cellar of the building. They sat in silence for a while, but Josh was becoming increasingly restless with each minute, chewing his lip and tapping his fingers on the table. “Ok, what’s going on,” Jake finally asked. 

“I’m staying.”

When it was met with a half-confused, half-annoyed stare, he continued. “I mean, just for two more weeks. I’d like to go hiking.”

The confusion was gone. Jake was just annoyed now. “Explain. Where? Why?”

“The Tatras. A guy told me the other day… You were still asleep, so I went out to have some breakfast. You know, Krishna bistro across the street… The place was already crowded by 9 am so these two guys joined me at my table. They just came from their hiking trip down there and showed me some pictures.They called the place ‘miniature Alps’, so you can’t get lost,” he laughed nervously. “It’s a spur-of-the-moment thing, see? But I feel I need it.”  

Jake needed a moment to decompress. This whole trip had been a “spur-of-the-moment thing”...and they did it together. They had also agreed that it was exactly what they needed, so what the fuck is this bullshit? Josh sensed the impending question even before Jake formed the words in his head. 

“You still have some work you need to finish before the start or the next leg…but I don’t. That’s why I didn’t tell you before. You’d just try to convince me to go home with you. I know it’s a long flight…I’m sorry Jake, but I really need to do this. For once in my life.”

“It’s insane Josh. And probably dangerous. And it’s mid-season. You probably won’t even find free lodgings. Then what?”

“I already booked it. The guy gave me a tip. Jake…don’t be mad. You know it’s irrational. We’re adults.”

Jake was angry. But he had to agree that it was irrational. They drowned the irrationality in a few more beers and so it happened that the next day, their ways parted. Jake boarded the plane headed for Gatwick while Josh took the train south. 

Jake

London, 12:15 pm

The weather improved considerably since yesterday, but I still couldn’t shake off the sense of impending doom. At first I thought that it was just the anxiety I often felt when flying, this time multiplied by the fact that I was completely alone thousands of miles away from home and wouldn’t even get there sooner than the next morning, at the very best. Only to be greeted by my housekeeper, if I were lucky. Then I remembered that since there was no one else there, she also only came on Mondays every other week while I was away, to do the most necessary tasks like making sure that the house wouldn’t be buried under a layer of gray dust when I came back. 

However, I landed in London about half an hour ago, downed a beer, had a smoke, but the unpleasant feeling that something bad was about to happen still lingered. I couldn’t put my finger on it, all I knew was that I already missed Josh. 

It was completely irrational. We were adults. I had no right to be angry that he stayed behind, but I was. We spent more time together in the last two weeks than we had in over a year. I mean really together, not just next to each other. It was supposed to be our trip, the purpose of which, among other things, was to shake off the growing feeling of loneliness that comes with this lifestyle. So, me being annoyed with him now was perhaps understandable. But anxious? As I said, I hate flying. Having to fly alone sucks and I was about to board a transcontinental plane later that afternoon. I finally convinced myself that anxiety was also understandable. Nothing to be ashamed of…I guess. Still, something seemed off. 

Agnieszka

Zakopane, 5:40 am

I checked the weather app again. Yes, definitely a perfect day for a hike. The sky was perfectly clear after yesterday’s storm and the air coming through the open window felt crisp and fresh. With a bit of luck, it would stay that way well until early afternoon, although one could never be sure here.  

That’s what I both love and hate about the mountains. Even now, at the age of total control over everything, the mountains are unpredictable, uncontrollable and untamed. Even if we destroyed all the life they harbour, bare and stony valleys would still kill you even more easily if you were bold and arrogant enough to venture too far. Many people come here to conquer the mountain. That’s why we hear the sound of rescue helicopters a few times a week. 

Have you ever smelled wet granite? I don’t mean cobblestones or granite walls, but the rough stone, spewed out to the surface of the earth by the untamed power of this planet, broken and twisted with the forces of nature like plasticine…even though a small piece could easily break your skull. There are places here where jagged rock towers a kilometer over your head. When the clouds hang low, try just standing at the bottom of a glacial cirque, surrounded by numerous peaks. It’s a deeply humbling experience. The place literally breathes. You can hear it sing its ominous song and its cold breath can chill you to the bone. These places are indescribably majestic and beautiful…and also scary when you experience the power firsthand. 

Dominik was never scared. He loved the mountains very much, but he had lost all his humbleness. This place does not forgive such folly. He fell 500 meters and was probably dead even before his body hit the ground. It took them three more hours to find him. By that time he was already half buried under fresh white snow. They couldn’t save him. It happened in one of those gorgeous, scary places and I never saw him again. I burned my white dress that day. 

But that was more than 6 years ago…and I’m still here, taking care of pretty alpinists who come and go, but never stay. Fucking them is convenient. Sometimes, the sensation left by their warm skin pressed against mine lingers longer than I’d deem comfortable and safe, but no one broke my heart again. Mom keeps telling me that my decision to never marry after what happened is breaking hers. She prays for me every Sunday, but she never understood. My father is like a domesticated chamois. A former mountaineer, tamed by a local beauty. Now he spends more time chopping wood and fixing old pipes. He says his knees hurt, but I know he’s happy down here with her. I like men who are just as wild as the wolves running over these hills, but to actually love them is a slow and painful suicide. I barely recovered from the first one. The next would also be the last. 

My dad has been a caretaker of Villa Eulalia for as long as I remember, and even before. I grew up here, surrounded by wild nature and the people who tried to monetize it. Later, my parents bought the building and Eulalia became our family business. It’s much more than that, though. It’s home. Surrounded by new, modern and luxurious hotels owned by townspeople who don’t know this place at all, we’re old residents who offer shelter to those searching for peace here. 

There are generally two kinds of people who come to Zakopane: vacationers and explorers. We don’t offer nice views, jacuzzis and sparkling wine. We will – however – make you breakfast at 5 am.. Whether you want to explore the hiking trails that belong to all or hidden places in your mind that are your own, we are your people. We are the same. 

I couldn’t imagine my life to be any different. I had been climbing these hills since I’d learned to walk. I went to Krakow to get my master’s degree in tourism management, I travelled a bit, made some new friends and even considered some other life options for a while, but I came back eventually. I missed the fresh air and the soapy smell of mountain grass. I needed to be here. 

I was also needed here. With my parents getting older and my younger sister having a family of her own in her cozy city home, I became a maid, a receptionist, a cook, a webmaster and an occasional mountain guide. My parents don’t speak English. Well, not much, anyway. They know a few phrases, so they can greet our visitors and ask them about their day, secretly praying that they wouldn’t really want to answer those questions. Most of them don’t…unless they’re young and handsome. Those talk to me, though. 

We didn’t have any foreign visitors at first, but later they slowly started coming. It was my sister’s job to take care of them at first, with me being away most of the time back then. But later, with three young kids, she couldn’t – and no longer wanted to – keep doing that any longer. So I came back and took over. 

In August, the holiday season is in full swing. I didn’t have a day off since early July and really needed to get out and clear my mind a bit. I can’t stay in town all summer, not when the paradise is literally just a few steps away. This morning seemed like a perfect opportunity. There were no planned checkouts for today, I already managed to get all the rooms for all the new expected guests cleaned and ready the day before and most of them were locals, with one Slovak family arriving later in the afternoon. Dad should be able to take care of that. 

While I was sipping my morning coffee, I checked the mailbox one last time just to be sure everything would be taken care of while I was away, only to discover there were two new last minute reservations. Kováčová…some Slovak lady with two more people who wouldn’t arrive until later in the afternoon, room 8. That one’s also ready. I vacuum-cleaned it two days ago. So, that should be OK. Aaand, the attic room for…some Kiszka. Perfect. I took one last sip, grabbed my backpack and was ready to go. 

Agnieszka wasn’t in a hurry, knowing too well that her muscles would hurt like hell the next day if she didn’t take it easy. She was fit enough to set a much faster pace, but this was not a workout. Not today. In mid august, the former sheep pastures in Hala Gasienicowa were in full bloom and covered in violet. It was also a rather steep route that led there so even though she reached the place at half past nine, she could already feel a familiar burning sensation in her calves. 

This was a perfect place for late breakfast. Yesterday’s wind was gone and once she got past the tree line, the sun was already high up in the sky, warming her skin enough to let her shed all the unnecessary layers of clothing. “Bathing in the breeze” was her favourite pastime. There was no better way to describe it. It was also still early enough to be able to enjoy the calmness of this place, which would be buzzing with life only an hour or so later as more people arrived. 

It was already past noon when she reached the borderline ridge at a beautiful spot called “Lily Saddle” that separated High and Western Tatras – her final destination for the day. Most people aim for peaks, but she always loved mountain saddles and ridge routes. Reaching them wasn’t easy. You always had to overcome steep, rocky and often exposed tracks to get there. By the time you reached the saddle, you were high on endorphins and adrenaline, your whole body overheated from exertion, only to be greeted by icy wind that kept rumbling up there even during the hottest days of the year, sometimes tossing you from side to side like a rag doll. It was like falling in love…

She usually felt at peace here, even when she had to literally wrestle with the element. Not today. Today, she felt agitated. It started further down the road and intensified exponentially as she reached the saddle. She contemplated going further west along the ridge to calm her nerves a bit, when her telephone rang. It took her a while to find it in her bag, but the caller seemed super determined. 

“Dad?”

“Neszka, where are you? An American just arrived… Apparently, he’s got a reservation. I need to house him.”

That must have been a mistake, she went through the reservations. Someone probably arrived at the wrong hotel. There were several of them called Villa Something Something in Zakopane… 

“Daddy, that’s impossible. I double checked. We’re expecting a small German group on Saturday, but otherwise no foreign guests.”

“I’m not making this up. He’s here in front of me and I see him in our reservation system as well.”

“Name?”

“Joshua Kiszka.” 

Fuck… That was probably why she felt so uneasy? Never underestimate your gut. Her subconsciousness knew she fucked up. 

“Ok, get him on the phone.” She took a deep breath, expecting an outpouring of anger, the person on the other side berating her and demanding an explanation. Some people had the weirdest reasons for complaints and refund reasons, and this situation clearly was her fault. 

Instead, the voice belonging to a young man sounded amused. He, too, tried to explain the situation he found himself in, even though there was no need for him to explain anything. With the wind gushing and roaring around and the service being shitty up here, she couldn’t even hear him properly, so – after what she hoped was the most heartfelt apology she could deliver – she tried to make it as brief as possible. 

“Ok, listen, my father – that’s the man you tried to talk to – my dad will show you your room. Just…. make yourself comfortable, there’s a large garden behind the villa and free beverages in the fridge outside your room… You will find it with ease… And I’ll be there in three hours at the very worst. Then I’ll show you around and will tell you everything you need to know.”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t slept much at night so I’ll probably just take a nap. All I need is a bed to lie on…if it’s ready,” he chuckled again.

Fuck. With that, she took a few big gulps of water and started descending. 

It was past four in the afternoon when she got back home, hot and sweating and out of breath, but the shower could wait. She stopped briefly by the kitchen to ask dad how well it went and then headed straight to the attic floor, taking stairs two at a time. She knocked on the door and…nothing. She had to repeat it two more times – at least it gave her the opportunity to catch her breath – before the door finally creaked open. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry I kept you waiti…oh!”

The man who answered the door was unlike anything she had expected. He was approximately the same height as her, slender, not overly muscular but still well toned. She could tell quite easily, because he was in fact naked from the waist up, rubbing his sleepy eyes and smiling at her while still trying to shake off the post nap confusion. 

She didn’t realize that she was staring until he spoke, and took a few steps back inside the room, basically letting her in. “Uh, oh, sorry, it’s a bit hot here under the roof, he chuckled again as he picked up a basic t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over his head. “And you must be the charming lady I spoke to on the phone earlier?” 

He looked like someone straight from DaVinci’s painting…if DaVinci lived in some arty, boho community instead of a 15th century Milan: fine features, rosy cheeks, kind yet mysterious eyes, plump lips and soft curls with trimmed sides and a messy braid that ended between his shoulder blades, decorated with a tiny shell. 

“Uuuh, yeah, yes, that’s me. I tried to get here as soon as possible, but it took longer than I expected and…”

“Please, don’t apologize. I see you went hiking. So cool! It must have been absolutely fabulous up there today. You must certainly give me some tips. Where to go, what to see... I heard how beautiful it is here. Saw some pictures too. But I’ve never been here, so I absolutely don’t know what to expect. I will need to buy some clothes and other essentials as well, this was a last minute decision. I helped myself to a beverage from that fridge, by the way. I hope it’s ok. I had peach iced tea…,” he kept on rambling as he tried to clean up the room that already looked lived-in even though he had been here for only a few hours. 

She watched him, completely bewildered. But she already liked him. He was cute and wild and kind of sexy. Strange, but with a pretty face. Two weeks. He’s alone…yeah, and you’re sweaty, red faced and you stink, you idiot!

“…me around?” 

She realized he was still talking, when put her back to earth. “What?” That chuckle again…

“You told me you’d show me around. I got my key, I know where the drinks are, I saw the garden, it’s fanTAStic, by the way…so, what else do I need to know?” he asked cheekily. 

That put her back into her professional mode. She explained that she wouldn’t clean the room more that once a week unless he would specifically ask her to do so, privacy being held in high regard here…; she showed him where to find extra toilet paper and fresh towels, where to throw the dirty ones; she showed him the kitchen he had to share with several other rooms, told him about free tea and coffee and that he shouldn’t bother with washing the dishes, he should just leave them in the sink and she would take care of it. She also told him where to buy everything he needed and she had to bite her lip a few times when he absentmindedly touched her arm. 

Later in the early evening, Agnieszka still couldn't shake off that unfamiliar restlessness she felt back up on the ridge. It lay heavy on her chest, compressing her lungs. She tried to read, but it was no use. Reading was a distraction fit for dark and rainy evenings, but the cloudless sky didn’t want the night to take over just yet. Even here, among steep hills where the sun sets early, the skies were still ultramarine blue and… vast. 

The warm light on her bedside table wasn’t enough to disperse the magic of the blue hour. Instead of trying to reread the same paragraph for the third time, she put the book down and opened the window to let the cool and fragrant air in. 

As soon as the scent of pines and freshly mown grass hit her nostrils, she also heard a soft hum coming from below. Looking down, she saw him sitting on a wooden garden table, with his feet on the bench. He had his back to her, sipping beer, his fingers rapping on the withered wood. He was also the source of that slow melody. 

It reminded her of Dominik. He used to sit by the fireside, farther back in the garden. His guitar was often out of tune and people made fun of him, but he always just smiled and continued to play. It often baffled her that he didn’t mind, because it sounded awful, and he must have heard it. The man could sing! 

Apparently, so could Joshua, but it was something completely different. Dominik’s voice was low and thick, and when he hummed her favourite songs, such as Sad Eyes, it often made her drowsy. Joshua sounded like the girls singing old local folk songs about dying from a broken heart. She had never heard anything like that. He sang silently, as he obviously did not want to disturb the calmness of dusk, as well as other guests behind their own open windows. Yet it made her heart flutter in her throat. 

She watched, entranced, how his breath animated the muscles of his lean back, covered only in sheer white cotton in spite of the air getting increasingly chillier with every passing minute. 

Agnieszka tried to lean out the window a bit more, which made the shutter crash against the wall, causing him to look her way. She panicked and ducked under the sill. Realizing how childish it must have appeared, she slowly straightened and saw him still looking in her direction, smiling. He gestured to the second can of beer standing on the table next to him and silently motioned her to join him. 

She took a deep breath and nodded. She grabbed her cardigan, closed the window and went out to join him, oblivious to the fact that the way down the stairs and out the back entrance which led straight to the garden was in reality a steep, rocky road to ruin. 

@writingcold @its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @edgingthedarkness @thewritingbeforesunrise @myownparadise96 @lvnterninthenight

...and because you reblogged the teaser, this might interest you, too: @klarxtr @jakesleftankle @itsafullmoon @woyayaofdreams @pasionatematty @zoelle16 @tripthelightfantastix This is just for now. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

[sadie-bug345]

gangs favorite classes🫶🥰🫡☝️🤓

i keep taking breaks from tumblr but i’m really tryna get back in the swing of things🙏

ponyboy:

ahhhh i haven’t reread the book in a while but he probably mentions classes he likes or he doesn’t like

ik he has like a D in his creative writing class or smth but that’s cause he don’t like the restrictions that come with writing for an assignment

in reality i feel like he is an english guy overall

also gives history ngl

more social studies classes

8/10 hes real for that

johnny:

elective guy thru and thru

like photography, art, ceramics, graphic design, etc

he might be amazing at these artsy classes

and that’s why he likes them OR

he just loves the chill classroom vibe yk

also he likes the kids in there too

i feel like johnny gets so annoyed with louder socs who mess around in the classes he likes

cause my guy is actually respectful🫶🙏

10/10 so valid honestly, like photo is fr my favorite class and i feel like johnny would totally fw that

sodapop:

language classes

like spanish, french, german, whatever floats your boat

i think he likes the funny atmosphere of everyone kinda messing up whenever they’re put on the spot to speak in class

just cause no one really cares

ALSO DESTROYS during presentations btw

like either he’s genuinely good

or he just keeps messing up and giggles abt it so much that the teacher starts yelling at him abt it

genuinely has a dgaf mindset to school in general which is very admirable

6/10 i hate my spanish 2 class but its ok😭🙏

darry:

sports med / sports weights

OR anatomy

like he just enjoys sports so anything that relates to that he finds really interesting

he likes the helping people aspect of sports med

and i’m in sports med as well which is actually so fun ngl

he eats with that

always crushes tests

i think he really studies for tests and actually tries

which allows him to get good grades🤓☝️

but he couldn’t care less abt classes he doesn’t like

7/10 valid

dally:

pretends to not give a shit but we know he does when it comes to the gang

bc of this, his fave classes are whatever he has the most friends in

other than that he thinks all classes are terrible and they all feel like years

math guy when he actually understands the concept

but the second things get hard he just gives up

“who needs these hyperbolas anyways man🙄”

lives for lunch and after school cause he just walks around and talks

or fights with other kids but we don’t talk abt that

6/10 im the same way abt math

two-bit:

any class where he can mess with the teacher

like either the teacher is chill and jokes around with him

OR the teacher actually sucks and two just makes them even more mad

lives for class laughter

like soda he enjoys more participation based classes, less the actual content

somehow he always gets sat in the desk right next to the teachers desk so they can keep an eye on him

barely ever gets to sit next to his friends for obvious reasons LMAO

7/10 also valid

steve:

obviously auto mechanic if the school offers it

otherwise he gives a science kid

like biology, physics, anatomy, stuff like that

his brain is just the type to get it

so those classes are barely hard for him

which is SO LUCKY

he the type to just go off about some technical concept the class is going over and explain it perfectly to his friend who needs help and then make a your mom joke the next minute

5/10 i hate physics and i hate how he’d be better at it than me

ANYWAYS REQUEST STUFF PLS🫶😋‼️

(btw i’m going thru requests rn so dw!!)

[cordeliawhohung]

I saw a reblog of the anonymous ask someone sent you about using character ai, and someone responded saying something about how it’s disgusting to even ask that, which is a liiiitle harsh, but I digress.

The issue here, is that there are more people who don’t understand what AI is doing than people who do understand.

ChatGPT, Open AI, Character AI, Gemini, etc ALL steal from published works on the internet. It cannot be prevented, no one can stop it from happening.

I’m not an artist & I don’t publish my writing, but I do genuinely care about the artists and writers who are having their work stolen and receiving absolutely zero credit.

Please, please, please, do not put someone’s work into AI.

If you want to create a character, or a storyline & use character ai, by all means, go for it. But PLEASE, don’t disrespect or disregard these artists by feeding their work into an AI. It completely diminishes all of the hard work they put into their art.

oh boy, nothing like having a post you made in fucking january suddenly gain a fuck ton of attention lmao.

while i understand where you're coming from, i think you completely missed the main point of my response to that anon.

1: i literally explained that ai steals work to that anon. i said it's a pale imitation of what a real human would write. that it takes works that people put so much effort into and regurgitates it out. i told them not to put stuff into ai. i informed them, and i wasn't rude about it either. emotional, maybe, but i wasn't being rude.

2: the main issue i had with that anon, besides the ai grossness, was the insinuation that i'm not "creating enough content" for them. "the readers can interact more with the characters" comment from them really grinds my gears. even if ai didn't steal from creators, and it wasn't a godawful abomination, them wanting me to put my ideas and works into something that they can interact with that isn't through me completely disregards the entire purpose of me having this blog in the first place. which i ALSO explained to them. why would i want to put my work into a 3rd party source and not interact with my followers when that's literally my favorite part of creating? bonding and talking about the shit i put effort into? i had every right to be upset about that, and so does every other writer.

3: i have no control how people reblog my posts. so idk why you're coming in my inbox about what someone else reblogged, really, just to tell me everything that i've already explained to that anon. i know who you're talking about too, because they're a mutual of mine, and honestly, i agree with them. it's disgusting to suggest someone should put something into a third party source so they don't have to wait for me to "churn out works" or whatever. i know people aren't well informed. which is why i informed them on that post and left it at that. i also explained why it's frustrating to receive asks like that, to hopefully prevent them from doing that again.

also, while i have whoever is reading this, i'd also like to mention that the anon who sent that ai ask sent a response back (that i didn't bother to respond to because i wasn't trying to make this a thing) somewhat apologizing and said they asked me that because other blogs on tumblr were doing it too. don't do that. don't assume that just because some people are doing x thing, that means you can suggest it to someone else. it's rude, and comparing blogs is just frustrating in itself.

anyway. i will not be making this a thing. do not come into my inbox debating the ethics of ai or whatever, as i will simply not entertain it. (:

[prince-liest]

First off; I LOVE 666!!! 'Multi-series hard kink/edge play pwps (though I'm with you on the 'without plot' being a total misnomer) that are actually in depth psychoanalysis of characters and complicated relationships' is one of my favorite parts of any fandom ( I'm being specific with that because no really for years in a lot of fandoms there's been that one ((or 2)) series that like. Will stick with me forever and make me think about sex/intimacy/myself differently. And your fic is 100% that for HH). I have a lot of squeeing about a lot of it that I hope to be able to coherently comment about at some point but for now!!!!

I was wondering if there was specific purpose behind where certain scenes take place? Like if they're at 'Vox's place' or 'Alastor's place'? because I thought there was a pattern of when Vox is (or ends up) subbing it's at his place (where he would feel safer and therefore more comfortable being vulnerable maybe) and vice versa with when they're at the hotel. But looking back at it to write this maybe I'm making that up? Because they just mostly do take place at somewhere of Vox's? Because I guess Alastor did end up 'going home' at the end a lot. In which case is there specific reasoning behind them not being at Alastor's place as often? (Does he just have less privacy at the hotel lol?) Idk I thought I was getting something, especially with that 'we're at the heart of your territory' line in part 8??? The more I type into this rambly chatty ask the more I think I was just overthinking. But it stood out to me anyway. ANYWAYS. *Finally pauses to breathe*

I really appreciate your series and I love your interpretation of these two weirdos relationship!!! Every snippet and every update I see drives me crazy!!! Thank you so so much for all your work!

Ahaha, I'm so glad to have written that fic for you in this fandom! Someone left a tag on one of the art posts for 666 recently that said "can't wait to see what emotional revelation unsafe kink will lead to this time" and it's. Pretty on point for the series, ehehe. With the likes of Alastor and Vox, it's really hard to dive into any form of intimacy without, like, emotional repurcussions, and that's my favorite thing to write! Thank you so much!

As for your question: To be perfectly honest, there's no specific pattern behind which location I choose for a fic as far as their roles are concerned! They mostly take place preferentially at Vee Tower because Alastor doesn't want to invite all the fuss and bother of Vox's...everything...to the hotel until much later in their reacquaintence. It's much easier to decide that he's done with whatever's going on and to dip out of Vee Tower than it is to have to remove Vox from the hotel (or, well, at least in theory: he portals Vox back into his own bed pretty easily after their night of drinking, haha).

Alastor inviting Vox over for drinks is a sign that he's actually, like, opening up a bit in certain ways by actually inviting him into his living space. Previously they'd mostly only been at the hotel transitionally, and during the second time they slept together, which is also the first time Alastor actually slept with Vox for reasons other than "for the meme", and was looking for a more comfortable, controlled environment to try this new thing in. (And also gave fewer shits about kicking Vox the fuck out without a second thought.)

In a way, the locations follow the general pattern of Alastor's emotional evolution throughtout the series: he's fine with it being at his place at first because he feels more secure and doesn't give a shit about Vox; then he transitions to being more careful and shutting Vox out of his personal space; and now he's slowly gotten to the point where he's comfortable inviting Vox in on occasion.

Alastor's opinion tends to matter more between the two of them as far as location is concerned, so it's mostly down to that, plus occasionally me thinking, "Hm, this episode would be cool to do in blue shark tank mood lighting," hahaha.

[diviningrodtv]

Oh yeah, NSH Time.

I've been holding this post back for like a week😅

I absolutely love how NSH came out and I think he's currently my favourite rain world model that I've done! (Sorry Pebbles, I'm going to upgrade you later anyway :]

I also made his scarf easily removable so you can see how the stripes aren't just on his head! The stripes and his irises also glow, but a bit brighter than the areas on Five Rotten Pebbles.

His antennae are pretty similar to how I did Sliver's, especially considering I did his first! XD They're separated from his head a bit.

Also if you've noticed in my art that his eyes are the exact same as in the model here, that's because they are! I tried finding a way to draw them how I usually might, but I just couldn't get the same vibe! So I said, "Fuck it!" and I've been drawing over his model ever since XD

NSH is also who I used to make the "umbilical arm" model! So if you saw those posts, that's why the textures are all messed up!

And here it is in all it's glory!

It's mostly made of ball joints with a flexible joint attached to the back. The last segment also twists just like your forearm bones!

Also..... lore shit below cause I have, plans™ so-

If you don't want to know why NSH is acting strange on my blog yet, read no further!

(there's also some downpour spoilers, and some other disturbing things)

*slaps top of can* This bad boy can fit so much fucking insanity in him. (cw: self-harm yeah you heard me)

If you haven't figured it out already (I did drop hints :) NSH's structure is damaged! His legs are giving out because a group of scavengers thought it would be funny to transport all of their explosives at once.

So he's in a bit of a pickle!

This is when Looks to the Moon and Five Pebbles' communication tower is repaired! During their first conversation in a very long time, NSH finds out about good ol' Hunter long legs, and is rightfully distraught! He feels like a total failure, that he wasn't experienced enough to properly create his messenger.

That's what this whole post was about!

But, experience is something that can be gained.

NSH figured if Five Pebbles was able to leave his can, then he should be able to as well, but that requires solving the three problems I mentioned in the Five Rotten Pebbles post:

The self-genome modification barrier,

A general lack of puppet central brain matter, and

No material processing within the puppet.

I'll talk about my umbilical lore for this AU here since it's relevant.

Either the "cord" or the "arm" can be disconnected, but not both. This is for ease of repair by administrators. Disconnecting them both would leave the unfortunate Iterator fully functional. Although, they would be blind in the visible spectrum (apart from overseers), unable to speak directly to someone in their chamber, and would otherwise have their workflow be severely impaired. They would effectively be trapped in their own head.

NSH realised that even if the barriers existed, they could still have the intentions, to break them. So what would happen, if he broke one? Not by writing it out of his system, Five Pebbles already proved how risky that method was, but instead by setting his actions in motion faster than any barrier could stop them? This was something to test, and wasn't that what Iterators were built to do anyway?

Umbilicals can only be disconnected by administrators, but what if he were to do it anyway? He needed to leave his can after all, it wouldn't be much of a loss if he was stuck on the floor of his chamber or floating aimlessly in zero gravity for a while.....

So what if he just ran fast enough to rip himself off?

What if he moved his arm back at the last second, could he gain enough inertia to pull it out of his back? Even if it took a few tries?

What other choices does he have? Perfect Five Pebbles' method until he collapses and continue even then? He had time, but not enough for that, and The Hunter certainly did not have any time for waiting around. NSH had to fix his mistake, he had to.

So this bastard goes and does exactly that, and short-circuits his entire system.

Not just breaking the umbilical maintenance barrier, but every other one in the process.

And it all hurts like hell.

But that's the first problem solved, and now he can help keep himself afloat longer. So that now, he can figure out how to solve the other two problems with precision.

Of course, the others won't like any of these plans, but, after what Five Pebbles did, they wouldn't dare disturb him if he stopped responding, right?

And maybe, he could even hijack their communications array, to look for help.

>:]

yeah so NSH is not sane

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC interaction game

Thanks @willtheweaver here and @illarian-rambling here!

Rules: describe an OC and pair how they would interact with the given OCs from the people who tagged you!

Will's OC Fen

Fen is a crow. But he does not act like one, having grown up among the foxes of the forest. All his life, he has had to keep his identity a secret. For obvious reasons, Fen does not let too much of himself be known. What he does show is an understanding nature ,and a knack for bringing out the best in others. Storyteller, a good fighter, tracker, and cook, he is skilled in many arts, though you’d never know that from the way he stays humble and modest. He values friendship, and will support those he trust.

Katie's OC Daedryn

Daedryn is a lady knight with one eye and red hair. She's the divine Chosen of Loqang, god of rivers and loyalty. Due to this, she is fiercely loyal to whatever person or organization she has promised herself to, to the point of following orders for orders sake. Outside of battle, where she is a force to be reckoned with, she's very sweet, a little awkward, and loves to talk about her god, who she sees as her best friend.

My OC Lexi

Lexi is a middle school girl (12-13 in the first book) who's popular, talkative and energetic. She has more acquaintances than she can keep up with (but don't tell her that!!! They're all her close friends who she must hang out with and support!!), and a close circle of companions she may hold on a little too tight to. Metaphorically, as her haphephobia prevents her from wanting physical contact. She has a mini backyard garden and indulges in nerdy pop culture, at first for her sister, then she found out she liked it. Lexi is very organized - she has a color-coded schedule she Will Follow No Matter What and her high anxiety will flare up if things become unexpected.

Edit: I forgot to mention she has teleportation powers because I got distracted trying to be concise

Lexi and Fen

Well, Lexi does not have experience with sentient crows. Not sure if Fen talks to humans or not. If Lexi were to discover his identity, she might find it difficult to keep it a secret, but would feel like she Had To regardless, out of loyalty and being true to her word. Fen's knack for bringing out the best in others would definitely highlight Lexi's compassion and love for those around her, as well as the aforementioned loyalty. His humility and modesty would be a fun contrast to Lexi's self-confidence, which means she would try to make him embrace his accomplishments more, and maybe Fen would open up to her more once he trusted her. Their shared value of friendship and supportive nature would make them good friends I think. Who doesn't love the classic young girl + sentient animal dynamic?

Lexi and Daedryn

As someone who also values loyalty and is respectful of superiors, Lexi would probably idolize Daedryn. Lexi also has trouble recognizing faults in those she values, so I believe they would understand each other. I would like to see Daedryn maybe take Lexi under her wing, making her a force to be reckoned with as well. Lexi is an enthusiastic learner. Lexi would be willing to listen about Daedryn's god, especially why he means so much to her, though Lexi would also be very excited to talk about her friends too! There may be some talking over each other, but I think they would have a cute dynamic.

Alright y'all let's pair people up with Lexi:

Tagging @gracehosborn @mk-writes-stuff @little-peril-stories @buffythevampirelover @elsie-writes @winterandwords @theeccentricraven @theelfauthor @space-writes @jezifster @theprissythumbelina @herrmannhalsteadproduction @i-can-even-burn-salad @oh-no-another-idea @eccaiia @dyrewrites + anyone else who'd like to do this fun tag!

TSP intro

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

[popagan]

Hey there! I was wondering if It was okay to ask for some fic recs? I read your izaya post and already devoured the ones you mentioned 😭

(if not that's okay too!! No pressure, ty ty 🫶🫶)

Gladly. I'll put some fics I have saved in my library, which range from one-shots to longer series. I'll put it in two categories - finished and ongoing(unfinished/abandoned), in word count order (Ascending), as well as a poorly made logline from me for each fic (+ links). I'll also add some additional notes on my end regarding certain (most) fics.

Finished:

5 times Izaya was told I love you (391 words) - The plot is in the title. Shizuo/Izaya.

It's short but sweet(?), I'm a huge fan of writings that uses listing as a form of narrative.

Just to Talk (660 words) - It's Valentine's, and also Tsukumoya-and-Izaya-fighting-in-their-chat day. Tsukumoya/Izaya (implied).

I love Tsukumoya and Izaya's chatlogs, there's something so gossip girls about them. And they bicker like an old married couple (in spirit) as well.

Tsukumoya Shinichi's Turn! (1k words) - Post-ketsu. Tsukumoya reflects on his relationship (as well as feelings) with Izaya.

Very creative writing, I adore their take on Tsukumoya's character.

I Think I Miss Him (1k2 words) - Post-ketsu. Tsukumoya finds Izaya. Tsukumoya/Izaya.

This one hits a particular spot, given the ending is my kind of drill.

Sweet like vanilla pudding (1k6 words) - Shizuo finds a new way to tease Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya.

Adorable, adorable, adorable. Important things must be repeated thrice.

Izaya's Zoo of the Strange and Unusual (1k8 words) - Shiki got Izaya to be a babysitter for exotic animals. Shiki/Izaya.

Camorra usually writes stories that incorporates fantastical/fairy tale-like elements, to which I absolutely adore, their comedy writing is one of my favorite.

dépaysement (2k2 words) - Post-ketsu Izaya. Healing--compared to other people--takes a different route for Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya (implied).

It isn't a fic recommendation blog from user popagan if I don't mention onewhodiedyoung at least once (I'm sorry). The way onewhodiedyoung write is not something I wanted but something I never knew I needed. A work of art, I say.

I Promise (2k3 words) - History calls it Christmas Eve, Izaya calls it The End, Shizuo/Izaya.

I love this one, mainly the buildup. I think about their take in Izaya's character way too frequently. Kanra_chan writes a lot of interesting stories.

flytrap (3k2 words) - A reflection, a continuation of what could've been and what had happened; as well as what might - or will happen. Shinra/Izaya.

Beautiful writing, enchanted me from start to finish.

venus in furs (3k8 words) - Shizuo-centric. Hanahaki disease and the loved in question is a lover of mankind. Shizuo/Izaya.

I love zigur's writing - especially how they describe Izaya as someone with a surreal kind of beauty. I also love stories told in second pov.

Open Cage (4k2 words) - Post-ketsu Izaya. Healing in a new city, and re-meeting a certain monster. Shizuo/Izaya (implied).

Bittersweet. Gives me chills every time I reread it.

This Is How We End (4k4 words) - Shizuo chose to be better, but that may include letting go of a certain enemy - if impulsivity isn't a problem. Shizuo/Izaya.

Finding TeamAlphaQ's works is like striking gold. My absolute favorite, but their other works may strike your fancy better - subjectivity and all that.

Sub-Zero (4k7 words) - Namie-centric. A secretary bonding with her mentally ill boss. Shizuo/Izaya (implied?).

I can't say a lot without spoiling it, but prepare for heartbreaks maybe. I love Namie and Izaya bonding(?) though. Friendships are the best.

stranger than earth (5k3 words) - Shiki-centric, Shiki/Izaya.

I don't know what else to say other than that it is the whole plot. Beautiful writing, the ship is a bit questionable though (and it's not their writing I have a problem with - far from it; just the nature of said ship strikes me as odd - but AO3 isn't a lawless land for nothing. One must be able to distinguish fiction from reality if one wish to indulge into Internet culture, yes?). Zigur once more, I love Greek myths and there isn't a lot I can defend myself with.

lie me to sleep (6k6 words) - Post-ketsu. Izaya is Shizuo's god.

I'm a bit guilty for referencing Izaya's "You past is your god" but a chance like this is one in a lifetime - I had to do it. The writing is another kind of heartache. This tender melancholy is what kept me afloat in the midst of many agonizing fic (cough April 23rd, laundry, All That Hate cough). Instead of burying me in the dirt, onewhodiedyoung buried me in flowers and let me choke on pollens instead.

Shizuo Vs. Valentine's (7k5 words) - Shizuo wakes up to a Valentine's gift at his door. Shizuo & Izaya.

The comedy found in the established situation left me giddy. Very fun read.

Why I Hate Izaya Orihara: An Essay by Shizuo Heimajiwa (8k2 words) - Shizuo listing out the problems in his life, and that includes Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya.

TeamAlphaQ strikes again, I love the comedy in this; and once more - listing and repetitions. They're my guilty pleasure it seems.

Clair de Lune (8k1 words) - Post-ketsu Izaya healing. Shizuo/Izaya.

I recommend all of NoteInABottle's works. If I could, I would make a homework out of it for everyone reading this blog here to read all of their work - DRRR or not. But unfortunately I did not read their non-DRRR work so I am not exempted from shame.

Just Walk Down the Aisle Already (9k1 words) - Izaya thinks marriage is nonsensical, Shizuo begs to differ. Shizuo/Izaya.

Kind of Strange (9k2 words) - Izaya is a wish-granting kind of being, Shizuo is not thrilled. Shizuo/Izaya.

kamogawa (9k2 words) - Shizuo, Izaya, Kamogawa; and their years-old feud. Shizuo/Izaya.

Words cannot describe how emotional this made me at 4 in the morning. It was reaching blue hour as well (my favorite hour) - the surrealness and sentiment was overwhelming.

All That Hate (9k5 words) - Izaya-centric. Like all things, it comes to an end. Shizuo/Izaya (one-sided).

It is in the tags so I'll reiterate - it is a heartbreaker, this fic. And I am positively eating this up. The last few lines took my heart and ran over it with a Caterpillar 320D L Hydraulic Excavator.

laundry (9k8 words) - Shizuo-centric. Shizuo finds Izaya in all the odd hours of this rundown laundry establishment.

Well, all I can say is that my jaw was on the floor. I recommend all of izayas's DRRR work, though. til the war's won (10k words) is another favorite of mine.

Time; Between Spaces (16k words) - A strange amnesiac Shizuo and a stranger Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya.

An interesting take on Izaya as a character, never failed to give my stomach butterflies. Their writing is so endearing, reminds me of high school love stories in a way (unsure how and why). Silly Shizaya, oh so silly.

Ice like Glass (23k words) - Izaya tries to win over a Winter Fairy - a Fairy Prince might I add. Shiki/Izaya.

Under the Surface (23k words) - Buried (2010) with Shizuo and Izaya bonding.

An enjoyable ride, for the characters maybe not so much.

see you on the other side; (28k words) - Between slip-ups, there are gaps in their relationship--one of which is a busted skull. Shizuo/Izaya.

The first two chapters gave me a slap which had me spinning 5 times in the air and land on my back - crashing into a comically large pool of my own tears. Proud to say I've been here since chapter 1 (sobbing).

Telescope Now (40k words) - A concussion turned wrong. Shizuo/Izaya.

It was a rollercoaster-of-emotions experience reading this fic. Certain lines had me silently scream into thin air and sob into my pillows.

Viewpoint (43k words) - Namie-centric, as well as Shizuo/Namie, Izaya/Namie, and implied Shizuo/Izaya.

I think you'll have to find out by reading it, I'm unsure how I can explain this without giving the plot away. Fairly intriguing; major spoilers ahead - I'm a bit bummed out the Shizuo & Izaya chapter never released, and also a tad more bummed out it didn't end as polyamory. Nevertheless, wonderful work, beautiful analysis into Namie as a character.

The Fox and the Samurai (127k words) - Izaya is a fox spirit and Shizuo is a samurai tasked to kill him.

Very interesting, I love old/medieval themes. Was delighted at the ending.

Ongoing/Unfinished:

Disney Stories, As Told By The Cast Of Durarara!! (1k6 words) - DRRR casts in Disney stories. Shizuo/Izaya.

Endlessly entertaining. Interesting idea, shame it never continued. Would've love to see Cinderella Izaya/Shizuo.

elevator ego. (11k words) - Someone wants Izaya gone, and it'll take a friend and an enemy to do that. Shizuo/Izaya and Shinra/Izaya (apparently).

Kept me at the edge of my seat, unfortunately I'll never get to see the end of it. The last two chapters will remain as one of my life's biggest mystery.

Toes (12k words) - Post-ketsu. Shinra and Shizuo looks for Izaya. Shizuo/Izaya.

Was hooked since the synopsis. I adore the story, would've love to see more.

In a Week (18k words) - In which Shizuo is a priest assigned to a small countryside community, and Izaya is a vampire. Shizuo/izaya.

I love the story established here, hoping to see more. It was updated a month ago.

When It Counts (23k words) - Darkwood-esque (stated in tags). Doomsday-like, infestations, forests, and also a dying Izaya it seems. Shizuo/Izaya.

Interesting concept. Looking forward to the next chapter. I enjoy adversities and doomsdays fics (procrastinating on other zombie apocalypse Shizaya fics as I'm writing this). It's rather humorous at times as well - that or I'm coping.

Go To Hell (45k words) - Medieval theme. Izaya finds himself in another world with his memories tampered. Shizuo/Izaya.

Takes place in Hell (quite literally). Interesting concept, I love the imageries. I might draw something for this fic after I've cleared commissions. It's still starting and establishing its plot and I can't wait for a new chapter to come by this Saturday (if things go smoothly on their end).

City of Sunshine (59k words) - An OC who had been transferred to Ikebukuro. What's worse - it's in an anime as well.

I love stories where characters are pushed into a world that was a media they've consumed before. I really wish to see more of this, seeing I got attached to said character haha. Furthermore, nothing hooks me up more than a character befriending everyone and just trying to navigate in their newfound environment. I really hope to find more work like these - I'm a believer of all DRRR casts x fun times/friendships lol. Back to this fic - I love how they incorporate their own character with the DRRR storyline; slice of life + overarching storyline/personal character goals? Count me in.

Tangled Threads (75k words) - Shizuo and Delic are two cousins who closely resemble each other, and Izaya has two hands for a reason. Shizuo/Izaya, Delic/Izaya.

It's a rather explicit fic--but I was too deep in the plot to stop (2 A.M. decisions). The concept hooked me and now I reap the undying curiosity of what could happen next. I made the rookie mistake of reading before checking the last time it was updated - only to check it halfway through the fic and knees-deep in the trench. Now my yearning will go unanswered. A mild spoiler here (which could serve as a warning) - but the latest chapter is right at the climax, so now I'm left on this cliff--teetering to insanity.

Ophidian (104k words) - In which Izaya is Shizuo's yokai companion and they fight other spirits together. Shizuo/Izaya(?).

I'm not sure if it'll get another update - I hope it will. I'm loving the energy this fic has created in the studio today. Beautiful imageries; the amount of research and dedication that might've gone into this fic is commendable.

Impostor (130k words) - Medieval theme. To which Izaya has to fake being a woman to marry the king (Shizuo). Shizuo/Izaya.

There are a lot of things I love - medieval themes being one of them. I can't fight the allegations on my part here. I love Shirohimesstories, they're the reason I check AO3 every Saturday with their 5 ongoing Shizaya fics. Chapter 25 and 26 gave my heart a good squeeze.

I think that's all I could remember/find for now. I've only rejoined the fandom and started reading this February (it took me years to realize I could try and look for DRRR fics on AO3). And I'm barely through page 30 on the DRRR (truthfully - only Izaya Orihara tags) works page and there are still more works I'm finding amongst those 30 pages. I've also been writing this blog for way longer than I would like to, so I'll stop here.

I apologise to all the authors whose works have been mentioned here - not out of ill will or so, but rather because I did not leave a comment in most of them (and I wish I could leave more than one kudos). Please take this entire blog site as an apology (I'm not sure if it's enough/worthy to be regarded as compensation). I should make it a habit to leave a comment soon, I get too shy when I'm about to press post and it's hard to find the proper words to compliment people's works without making it sound repetitive/reused.

Regardless, I've held you (yes, you) for way too long, haha. Thank you for sparing your time reading this poorly-made tangent I've been on. For the ask - I apologise it took so long, I have no defense. I hope you enjoy the fics I recommend here.

Also, Izaya birthday merch dropped, on april 23rd (for some people--it's me. I am people). Here's to all the broken hearts and drained wallets.

[galexibrain]

Something that bugs me a little is the insistence that Gohan actively hates to fight period. Bc that's not true!

(This ignores everything that happened outside the original manga/the DBZ anime)

Yes, he lacks Goku's or Vegeta's laser-focus on all things martial arts, but let's be real, all half Saiyans do. Goten & Trunks sure have more passion for fighting than Gohan does but they're much more "human" about it than their dads and have other interests in their lives too.

But while Gohan originally became a fighter out of necessity and had little choice in the matter there are instances when he clearly shows that he is totally capable of enjoying himself in a fight.

For once there's obviously his fight against Cell - once he snapped his "Saiyan side" took the lead and he was enjoying himself a little too much (and ruined it, like a good Saiyan must).

But it also becomes clear in the early Buu arc. Yeah, initially he's not rly interested in the tournament and wouldn't have participated if not for Videl forcing him.

But once he was in he was in. He even got a little annoyed by Videl interrupting his training, and he did want to win. If he really hated it so much he could have entered with the plan of failing the preliminaries, or losing in the first round. But the thought never crossed his mind. I think if you'd suggested he botches it deliberately to get out of it he'd been horrified.

He was going to have fun with it! I think his most "Saiyan" trait is that he's a bit of a showman lol. He likes to be flashy! And he likes to boast! He COULD have just used a plain costume and mask to hide hid identity but nope, Great Saiyaman it is! He likes being seen and being known as a crazy strong superhero. Maybe he'd have been into pro-wrestling with their fancy costumes and showmanship

Even before things went off the rails at the tournament and Buu arc was set in motion he was ready to go. And yes his crush on Videl might have served as motivation: "haha cool she won't be disappointed if someone beats her dad! (I can date her if I beat her dad)" -> he WOULD have thrown Satan out of the ring if he'd gotten to fight him, no questions asked.

And once he, Goku & Vegeta are in Babidi's spaceship it gets even clearer: now, no one is forcing him to fight. Ofc Gohan always wanted to fight when it was necessary, even at 5yo he wouldn't stay home, he made it very clear that he was going to Namek.

But while they were going through the levels in Babidi's ship this still wasn't a serious thing. Pui Pui and Yakon were a joke for them. Vegeta was getting pissed, ok, but aside from that it was just fun and games for them, and Gohan could easily have said "nah have at it you two, I'm sitting this one out" but never once did he so much as consider NOT taking part in rock-paper-scissoring it out to decide who gets to go first.

He was eager to fight Dabra! Dabra told them to take him on 3:1 and Gohan flat out told him "no way, this is MY fight!". And if Vegeta had interfered with that fight to end it quicker I'm 100% sure Gohan would have decked him in the face and told him to fuck off. (Maybe that would have cooled Geets' mood a little lol.)

The problem isn't that Gohan hates fighting from the bottom of his heart. He doesn't. The problem is he grew up with a dad who was 100% a fighter and a mum who was 100% into education, and he didn't find a balance. He didn't even know that might be an option! He thought he'd HAVE to choose one thing, and one alone, and so he chose education.

Who could have taught him otherwise? Maaaaybe Piccolo (post-reunification with Kami), but tbh I think he didn't want to give Gohan the feeling he had to fight. I think Piccolo feels a little bad for putting 4-5yo Gohan through the wringer so much.

Like idk. Let my boy be both. Let him have Goku's legacy as well as make his own!

(I've read about Dragon Ball Online a little and tbh Gohan writing a book on ki and making it widely known? Perfect. I love it. Best idea ever. Probably the best thing that happened to DB since the original manga and Z anime ended. I am accepting this as canon 100%.)

[doctorwhoisadhd]

hey. if you play an instrument you're a musician okay. there is no level of ability you need to attain to call yourself a musician and anybody who tries to tell you otherwise is either completely full of themselves or just insecure about THEIR own ability (and very likely both). your elementary general music or middle / high school band / choir / orchestra teachers were there to help give you the tools to be a musician — so USE THEM! but what if its not perfect? the definition of "musician" is literally "someone who makes music". it doesnt have to be professional. it just has to be music

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[egophiliac]

happy new year Ego!!! Just wanted to let you know that I absolutely adore your twst fanart and the tags are just an absolute pleasure to read! You are my greatest inspiration for my personal twst art and I just wanted to thank you for your wonderful masterpieces <333 if possible, may I ask what are some of your headcanons for the diasomnia family? If not for diasomnia then any other characters are fine as well!

thank you, and happy new year! 💚💜💚 that is amazing to hear; it's always a little bewildering but super flattering that other people like my silly little doodles so much!

I don't think I really have any really solid headcanons and also canon keeps validating me left and right (FLUFFY DOMESTIC DIAFAM IS REAL). mostly just kind of...impressions and general thoughts, if that makes sense! lately though I've been kind of obsessed with thinking about Lilia's hair, and specifically when/why he ended up cutting it. (l-look, we're bouncing around the timeline and I gotta make decisions about these things when I draw, it's relevant) (I mean I would probably be weirdly fixated on this anyway, but.)

I think I've settled on the idea that he kept it long until he went to NRC, partly because 1) I like drawing The Ponytail, and 2) I think he thought of NRC as a chance to reinvent himself a bit! he gets to go and be a wacky carefree teenager for a few years and have fun! (officially he's there to keep an eye on Son #1, but how much trouble could he get into, really.) so he gave himself a Cool Teen Haircut to go with his fresh new Cool Teen Persona!

also maybe he had some reflection on his hair's troubled past with three kids...

...and had to weigh his vanity versus the fact that he was going off to be around hundreds of kids on a daily basis, and. the choice suddenly seemed obvious.

[sergle]

I'm thinking abt that pretty fall leaves embroidery pattern post and about how like... it is categorically a repost, it's a reupload. right? a thing that is generally disliked. but because it's credited, it's genuinely boosting the artist in question. and it could ALWAYS be like this. reposting content could ALWAYS be a symbiotic relationship, but because sourcing back to the original creator of something is so uncommon, it's just easier to ask people not to repost it at all. and people still don't understand the difference. or they'll go to the effort of cropping out usernames/signatures to repost something, which is More Effort than literally crediting the creator of something you liked enough to want to repost. Like. I literally don't actually care if my own shit gets reposted, you have to understand. I just don't want it STOLEN. But "do not repost" is easier to write on my art than "you can repost this, but don't alter the image/remove my signature, don't you dare write 'credit goes to the artist' because that is not credit, please link back to my original post or someplace that you can actually find me. please use an actual link/url instead of writing a non-clickable link of my username, because making it text instead of a clickable link cuts the number of people who will go to the effort of visiting my own page in Half." All those aggregate themed accounts, those fuckin annoying as hell instagrams and facebook groups that are like "body positive art we love wamen 💕 hashtag feminism" and then MASS-STEAL plus sized art created by women, if pages like these that always go and steal my older self-portraits and other works... If they just put a link to my prints of those pieces in the text of those posts, or, fuck, my commission info page? I would literally be living on the moon right now. I would have a house on the moon

[luck-of-the-drawings]

my TWO FAVORITE THINGS IN THE WORLD, VAMPIRES N COWBOYS... deacon keller is SUCH a fun character, hes charming and funny but ALSO formidable and STRONG when he feels he needsta be. i hope him and arthur can get a chance to talk more and be better friends. l ike really good friend s. . like. like really good f. hangon i gotta go i think i hauve rabies.