#like wow things really just come and go and ebb and flow like this

[inejghavertz]

having a moment

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GUARDIAN ANGEL! GOJO x FEM READER 

Kneeling by your bed, rosary wrapped around your knuckles, lips pressed to the burnished rosewood, you pray. 

God, please send me another guardian angel. 

A blast of static from the TV behind you. 

The one you sent me- 

“Hey, how does the thing work?” Gojo says, accompanied by loud thumps. You cringe in silence. 

He’s strange. 

wc — 3.7k

tags — religion, Gojo has to reckon with the consequences of being the strongest, domesticity, attempted (failed) mugging/attack, Gojo kills a man for you (non graphic), Shoko’s a good friend, bs angel lore, I think of this like a prequel to reader’s villain arc lol,  title from closer by nine inch nails 

You wake up to a man standing over your bed. Understandably, you scramble backwards, hands over knees over legs over feet, all your limbs tangled together, until you bump into your headboard. 

“Hi!” He says cheerily. “Wow, haven’t gotten that reaction in a while, not since- Anyways. I’m Gojo Satoru, your guardian angel. Please make breakfast, it’s 12 pm already and I’m starving. Your sleep habits are terrible.” 

You shake, terrified. Nothing he said has gone through your brain.

“Um, hello? Deep breaths now. It’s really not that serious, can you stop that? Hellooooo,” he’s snapping his fingers in front of your face, trying to get through to you. 

You panic and bat his hand away, but if you can touch him, that means he’s real. You’re not dreaming. There’s a strange man in your house calling himself your guardian angel. You try to pull yourself together enough to make a coherent sentence. What comes out is: 

“Um. Guardian angel. What?” 

“You don’t believe me,” he says. 

You’ve heard it can be dangerous for people suffering from delusions to be forcefully brought out of their dreams. “No,” you say carefully. “I’m sure this is all a big understanding.” 

“No, that’s okay,” he laughs. “I love getting to do this.” 

Massive wings unfurl from his back. It’s a strange sight. The air seems to ripple around them, iridescent ebbs and flows of the universe to make space for the impossible. They seem to sprout right out of his shoulder blades. 

It’s undeniable, irrefutable proof. Your brain can’t process this. It goes back to sleep. 

You wake up to the smell of bacon burning in the kitchen. 

Gojo hums as he cooks, his wings out. You’re almost worried they’ll get caught in the flames when suddenly you have something much more real to worry about. 

“Ow!” He’s about to stick his finger into his mouth when you intervene, scolding him without even thinking about it. 

“That’s dangerous! Don’t put your hands in your mouth, especially not if you’ve been cooking. Come here,” you tug him over to run his hands under the faucet. 

“Who's the guardian angel again?” He teases, amused. 

You answer him with another question. “Why are you cooking, anyways?” 

“You’re starving me! It’s so late and you haven’t made breakfast yet - you know I could report you to the authorities for angel abuse, right?” 

Somehow, you don’t believe him. There may very well be a division in heaven’s bureaucracy dedicated to looking after angels, but something about Gojo is just on the edge of unbelievable, like if you blink too hard, it might disappear without a trace. It’s the wings, probably. 

You’re good at compartmentalizing, so you ignore all of the normal reactions someone would have to an angel randomly appearing in your apartment to instead make breakfast. Gojo already burned your favorite pan, so you stick it in the sink to soak while you rummage around for your second best set. Then you check the fridge. You’re out of butter and eggs. There are just two pieces of bacon left. Is it presumptuous to ask your angel to run errands with you? 

You poke your head out of the fridge to look at Gojo, staring remorsefully at the burnt remains of his once-was-an-egg. He’s nursing the cut on his finger. 

“Do you want to go grocery shopping?”

He smiles at you, slow and syrupy and- 

He can’t do that. He’s beautiful as it is, as if God took extra time crafting him. Smiling only makes his beauty all the more painful, tugging at the strings of your heart. His snow white hair curls against the nape of his neck, a ruthlessly cute detail you notice when he tilts his head at you. 

“I would love to. What’s grocery shopping?” 

Introducing Gojo to the modern world is an exercise in both patience and childish wonder. There’s so much he doesn’t know. He tells you the last time he’s been on Earth was somewhere back in the 90’s.

“Like 1990? That’s pretty recent,” you remark. 

“Like 90 CE.” 

He’s delighted by everything, even the simplest of snacks, and begs you to add them to your cart. Ramune impresses him to no end. He’s enthralled by the taste of ice cream after the nice worker gives him a sample. You might really be reported to the Bureau of Angel Abuse at this point - all he’s interested in is junk food. It takes a while to finally wrangle him away from everything. In a way, it’s your fault because you hesitate to refuse an angel anything, and Gojo wants it all. You only manage to get him to agree to go home once you’ve tired him out. 

There was a sense of reverence, at first. 

There’s an angel living in your home. It’s hard to imagine getting used to that. Walking into the bathroom to the sight of Gojo brushing his teeth shirtless, his wings out, is a sight that will never get old. He manages to transform even the mundane into the divine. The sunlight strikes his hair at just the right angle to glow, giving him a faux-halo. 

“Good morning,” he smiles. “I think I used up all your toothpaste.” 

By day seven, you’ve wised up to Gojo’s tactics. If you don’t say no to anything, he’ll steamroll right over you, so you have to grow a backbone. 

“Oh, Christ? Yeah, we’re old pals. We go wayyyyy back.” 

“Please be quiet while I’m trying to pray.” 

“We’re in the same therapy group, actually. He texts me all the time for advice-“ 

“Gojo. Shut. Up.” 

He’s silent for all of a minute before he pipes up again. “I don’t think capital G up there would appreciate that.” 

You have never missed a day of prayer in your life. No temptation has been able to sway you from your duties. Hunger, thirst, and pain all were swept away in the face of your faith. Were you seriously about to start now, being annoyed to death by a particularly useless angel? 

The best solution to Gojo is always to ignore him. He needs attention like flowers need water. 

Without it, he stalks off to sulk. 

It’s night by the time he returns. He’s flying, which you usually don’t allow him to do, but you’ve driven out to a more remote, private church to pray. It’s owned by an old family friend, who handed you the keys without question. Half of this is for you, to experience god in the sanctity of nature, and half is for Gojo. You hate seeing him cooped up. Part of you feels like you’ve chained him down. You’re a trap in the form of a human, made to keep him grounded. 

He touches down next to you, hair slicked to his forehead in sweat. When he stretches his arms, his wings move simultaneously. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look more alive. He loves nothing like he loves flying, and you’re inclined to agree. 

Maybe you’ll let him take you for another ride tonight. You love the feeling of the wind against your face, the sight of the landscape beneath you when he takes you up, the feeling in your stomach when he tucks his wings in and free-falls for fun. You’re not scared. Gojo would never let anything happen to you. 

You might ask, later. Now, you send him off to the car ahead of you while you lock up. He’s cheerful as he heads off, whistling merrily. You’re glad flying has improved his mood. It’s equally painful for you whenever he’s upset with you. Perhaps it's simply a side effect of being a guardian angel .

The key is in the door when you feel the first hint of danger. 

“All the money in your pockets, ma’am.” 

Polite, for a thief. 

“You’re not from around these parts.” He says as you spin around. “Should’ve known better than to go wandering around these woods alone. Whatever happens next is on you, sweetheart. If only you’d been a little more careful.” 

He has a knife. 

“What do you want? Money? You can have it.” It doesn’t matter much to you. As long as he leaves before Gojo comes back. 

“Sometimes, ma’am, men don’t want anything but a thrill.” 

Then he lunges at you, presses you against the wall, and pins you with a knife to your throat. 

“Don’t scream now. No one would hear you anyways.”

He’s wrong about that part. 

You hear him coming up the path before you see him. 

“What’s taking you so long?” Gojo whines. “I wanna go home and watch Love Island already-oh.” 

“Run!” Gojo might be an angel, but you’ve seen him cut himself making toast. He can bleed like any other man, gold ichor, yes, but blood still. You don’t want to see him hurt. 

Instead, he sizes up your assailant, unfurls those beautiful wings - they always take your breath away - and in one swift move, simply tears you from his grasp. It’s faster than you can blink. 

The man makes a muffled sound of fear and shock as Gojo seems to blink back into existence. You know he’s only moving too fast for your brains to comprehend. 

“Stay here,” he deposits you on the grass behind him. It’s scorched, burned black from the temperature of his wings. 

He turns up the heat. You didn’t think it was possible, but he was clearly holding back. The air seems to melt around him, heat waves shimmering off his skin, his white feathers. They glow with an otherworldly light, radiating heat. 

You didn’t know true glory until this moment, and it frightens you. All other versions of blue fade in favor of Gojo’s eyes - a single, unyielding truth. He is a piece of heaven on earth, burning up. His anger is righteous. Holy. His true nature melts away his human appearance. 

He’s a seraph, one of the highest order of angels.  

You’ve never seen him fight before, don’t know how he gets his weapons or where he puts them. It just appears out of thin air. He carries a flaming sword in one hand, its pommel is white marble, its blade glass. Contrary to common belief, his voice doesn’t boom. In fact it’s all the more threatening because it is soft, a whisper so clearly heard it defies the laws of the world just because it can. 

He raises the sword like an executioner and judge all in one. 

You barely have time to close your eyes in horror when you realize what he’s about to do. 

Real angels are not like the watered down, commercialized ones you can find today in any young adult TV show. Real angels are bloody. Real angels are the hand of God, ruthless and violent.

Real angels have no mercy. 

You open your eyes again when you feel the now familiar heat on your skin. 

He’s standing before you, beaming. It’s clear he expects praise. In heaven, it might’ve been given to him. 

You can only stare at him in fear, not awe.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He steps closer, his burning wings flapping. “It’s okay. I got rid of him. You’re safe now.” 

You’re ashamed a split second after it happens because it’s so pathetic, but you can’t help it. Your animal instincts react instinctively to the threat, sending you skittering back on your palms and ass away from him. 

He freezes. His wings remain moving. Perhaps, like a shark and its gills, he simply can’t stop. 

“You’re afraid of me,” he says, stunned. “Why are you afraid of me?” 

The heat from his wings is baking your face. You’re afraid if you speak, your skin will crack. Still, Gojo shows no signs of leaving you alone. If anything, he’s about to get closer. 

“Stop,” you squeak. You throw out your hands in front of you like the world’s most useless shield. Your eyes are watering from looking into his radiance. 

Helpless, Gojo does something he hasn’t done since he was just a newborn angel. 

He asks for help. 

Shoko Ieri looks nothing like him, so that answers one question you’ve always had. Gojo tells you she’s another angel, although you don’t see her wings past the first minute you’ve met. After Gojo summons her to the scene and she catches the way you look at him, she keeps them carefully folded in. 

She helps you into the passenger seat when you can’t make your legs move to walk back to your car. You won’t let Gojo touch you, feeling torn at the look on his face when you flinch back from him. 

He’s sitting on a stool at the island while Shoko checks you over for injuries in the kitchen. There’s no major damage, just the after effects of shock and adrenaline working through your system. 

“You know I’d never hurt you, right?” He says, hurt and confused. 

“You fucking idiot. You colossal blockhead. You-“ Shoko pauses, not because she’s run out of things to say, but because she has too many. “It’s not about you, right now, okay? I know it’s hard for you to get your head out of your ass, but can you at least try to be supportive?” 

Gojo makes a noise like he wants to protest, but you shift your weight and that draws his attention back to you. The look on your face makes him fall silent.

Shoko leaves after she’s completed her examination, though she doesn’t leave you helpless. 

“Do you want to come with me?” She says, carefully. “I understand if you don’t want to be left alone with him right now.” 

You shake your head. 

“Listen, I know Gojo scared you. I’m sorry. He shouldn’t have. He’s always been too reckless - ugh. The stories I could tell you. But I promise you, he will never hurt you - not just because he cares about you, but because he’s literally not allowed to. He’s your guardian angel.” 

“I know,” you say, and that’s the end of that. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence after Shoko leaves. You’re not sure how to navigate the once easy relationship between you and Gojo now. Always unable to keep still, he breaks the silence first. 

“Do you want to talk about it now?” He says softly. Everything about him is dulled, even the gleam of his brilliant hair. He’s back within his human skin, even more modestly than before, as if he has taken care to seal up every crack that his true nature could spill out of. 

You choose your first question carefully. “Why has the lord sent a seraph to watch over me?” 

Seraphs are the highest level of the hierarchy of angels. They maintain the order of the world, fulfilling God’s will. For one to have come to you- 

True horror is sinking in. You love your saints. You worship them devoutly, knowing each story by heart. You could trace a path through the church library of all the books you’ve read on them, giving the history of each spine. 

You do not want to be one of your saints. 

Joan of Arc died at 19. Saint Agatha was canonized for being tortured violently.

By sending you such a strong protector, your lord may be condemning you to die young, but that’s not why you cry. You cry because you are too weak to fulfill his command. 

Life is sweet. You don’t want to give up the taste of tart oranges on your tongue, the feeling of the babbling creek over your feet, the songs of the birds in the morning. You don’t want to give up Gojo’s wake up calls, or the feeling of flying. 

All these selfish, worldly pleasures should mean nothing to you when faced with the lord’s call, and yet- 

You resent it still. 

You’re so confused by it all. Why were you given such a burden and told nothing about it? What does any of it mean? 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry. We don’t get told anything but who we were assigned to.” 

“Okay,” you say. 

“That’s it? Okay? I scare the shit out of you, and all you have to say is okay?” 

“Gojo, I don’t want to fight anymore. Let me just go to bed, please.” 

You’re woken up not by the light of Gojo’s halo, as you’ve gotten used to when he comes to your room demanding breakfast, but by the sun. The curtains are open, and sunbeams stream in over your pillow. 

Gojo is in the kitchen making - not burning - breakfast. He doesn’t turn when you pad into the kitchen on slippered feet, but you know he knows you’re there. You’re feeling much better. Sleep has refreshed you from the major shock to your system last night, and now you feel almost half bad for your reaction to him. He only wanted to help you, after all. 

It’s not his fault he’s strong. At the end of the day, he’s just another gear in the universe, like you. Neither of you are important enough to be privy to the greater, divine plan, not even a seraph. You shouldn’t have snapped at him. You’re in this together. 

You stand on tiptoe behind him to peer over his shoulder into the pan. 

“I’m making you breakfast,” he says. Is it just you, or does he seem almost shy? 

What an impact you’ve had on him. Your heart breaks. You’ve only known him to be bold and uncaring of human customs like politeness. You didn’t think it would upset you to see him learn manners, and yet- 

It’s a consequence of your rejection last night, as if he’s worried you’ll pull away again. This isn’t what you wanted, ever. 

“We should talk,” you say. 

“Yeah. We should.” He still won’t turn around, avoiding eye contact. 

Before you can speak, he blurts out, “ Do you not want me to be your angel anymore?”

“Of course not,” you say, reaching out for him. He’s hesitant to let you pull him closer, take his hands in yours. “Gojo, why would you think that?” 

“You’re scared of me,” he says, almost petulantly, like a sulking child. “You don’t like me anymore.” 

“Gojo,” you can think of nothing to say but his name. Sweet Gojo. Selfish Gojo. Gojo, who you’ve gotten used to having around. Gojo, who has infiltrated your life and now thinks to leave like you can kick him out like that. Like you would. Gojo, who you’re fond of in a way you can’t articulate, despite the way he takes and takes from you. Gojo, who you’re willing to keep, despite everything. 

Gojo, who you care about, enough to want him to stay. 

Gojo, who cares about you, enough to want to leave. 

He takes this like a rebuff and wrenches his hands out of yours. 

You grab his face and forcefully drag his attention back to you. His eyes are wild like a trapped animal, but there’s no sign of fire. He’s carefully dampened any kind of godliness in him.

“Oh, Gojo. Please don’t. I want you with me, I promise. I would never ask you to leave.”

“You don’t have to,” he says grimly. A soldier to the end. He knows how to do the hard things. Sometimes, you have to cut the rot out before the wound festers. 

“I am scared of you - please don’t make that face. You’re breaking my heart.”

“Your heart? What about mine?” He bristles. 

“I trust you. Let me prove it. Take your wings out again. Show me your true self.” 

“After seeing how you reacted?” He scoffs, turning defensive. You’ve exhausted his goodness, and now his emotions are getting the better of him, making the situation ugly. But you knew this would happen. 

You know him. 

And you know how to deal with him. 

“Come on,” you say.  “Think of it like exposure therapy.” 

“I don’t want to see you look at me like that again,” he admits.

“I know you won’t hurt me,” you say. “Please. Do you trust me?” 

He ends up on the ground cross legged, his wings spread, back to you. His wings are fiery, but carefully controlled. He won’t burn you. 

You start small, running your hands all over his wings. They rustle underneath your touch like startled animals. When you tug gently at the ends, extending them to their full length, you realize how monstrous his wingspan truly is. From tip to tip, they’re larger than a grown man is tall. Your fingers creep along the thin ridge of his radius, deceptively thin beneath your fingers. If you didn’t know better, it would snap easily with just the barest hint of pressure. 

He makes a small noise. You jerk back, worried you’ve actually bent the bone, but he’s fine. He pushes his wings back under your hands like a puppy seeking attention. 

From the radius, you trail along the top edge to his metacarpus, then down to his feathers, all the way back to his scapula. From there, it’s only a few inches over to his actual shoulder blades. He shudders when you touch him there, your fingertips lightly grazing over the bone. You press down gently. His muscles flex under your skin, tense and wound up. 

You realize that he's been suspiciously quiet for a while. He’s too still, as if he’s purposely holding himself in place. Have you hurt him without knowing? Would he tell you if you had?

“Gojo?” You pull your hands away from his wings and he shudders as if he’s been burned. “Look at me.” 

He won’t turn, so you grab him by the chin and force his head up so you can look him in the face. Even down on the floor like this, he’s tall. His face is pink, his eyes wide like he’s been stunned. He looks almost like he’s in pain.

“What’s wrong? Why didn’t you say anything? Does it hurt?” You fret over him. 

“Doesn’t,” he says hoarsely. “Feels too good.” 

You freeze. It’s this sight of an angel in all his celestial grace wrecked by your touch, brought down by just the brush of your fingers, that makes you realize it. 

It feels good to have an angel at your feet. 

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

"Jungsu hcs pt.2"

Summery: pt.2 of the Jungsu hcs like I promised!! just how you got together and a couple little cute scenes I came up with approximately: about a 20 min read

A/N: I got jungsu brain rot from writing this :(

Warnings and info: kissing I think? Tbh I forgot if that’s in here or not, cursing, fluffy fluff, mentions of food, mentions of riding the Ferris wheel & other carnival rides, think that’s it!

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper.” This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

i know full well how I’ve said this before, but I’ll say it again: jungsu and jooyeon both give me friends to lovers vibes

I know full well how I’ve said this before but I don’t care so imma say it again

both jungsu and jooyeon give me friends to lovers vibes

like specifically with jungsu… it’s like yeah sure y’all are really good friends and have been for a while, and there’s something in the both of yalls back of heads that’s making your linger on the thought that maybe it’s more than that… becoming, growing, blooming and blossoming— starting to grow fruit ripe, sweet, and beautiful…

something booming in your heads about how maybe it wasn’t so cut and dry

so simple

And unlike with you and jooyeon, you don’t try to reason your way out of it much

thinking that “it isn’t that important” “it’ll go away soon” or “nah they dont feel the same”

not like either of you dwell on the reality at all either though,

oh but it’s there all right— thick air in between the two of you, and just like how I said it would be like with you and jooyeon, never getting awkward or boring

you both knew it was important and you had a feeling the other felt the same— the glances, coupled with the sporadic longing looks into each others eyes, and just all around knowing how deeply and the type of way you cared for each other,-- you were both content with it for a while. it just felt nice keeping like a little secret the both of you knew about each other

but the first time you two really realized that wow, this is really happening and it’s bigger than I thought, happens when y’all are at a carnival with a group

somehow you two end up getting separated from the larger group you were with

Not like either of you really minded, tho

he like being alone with you and the both of your thoughts just say much as you did him

but this time, unlike the others, all those feelings inside the both of you couldn’t stop from bubbling over the surface

one thing led to another and soon enough he's leaning his head on your shoulder on the ferris wheel

he knows its a cliche, but with you, it was all he could think and dream about doing.

you can feel your heart beating in your ears and for some reason you don't care about him knowing

if anything, you'd like him to know

you look down at him the same time he's looking up at you

and its not awkward at all

there seems to be something in the air

or maybe its just how high you two are right now but neither of you could catch your breath, even though youre both sitting down

he wants so fucking badly to say something, and so do you

but is this really the right time, you wonder

but no matter how silent the two of you are, a mutual understanding seems to ebb and flow between the both of you

even though you turn away in a few seconds, you both come away from that knowing that you have something to say to the other

a few minutes later and the ride is over

as youre climbing out, your back turned away from him, you ask: got something to say to me?

his body vibrates with a chuckle and as youre walking away from the ride, you don't even realizing how close the two of you are until you can feel him laugh behind you

"oh you--" "yeah," you quickly smile, "I noticed. seemed pretty serious too."

He simply shrugs, now a little bit ahead of you, turned around and walking backwards

(not the best idea in a crowded place but ok my guy u do u)

"ill tell you later." he says. and you cross your arms at how his cheeks are puffing up in a smile

before you can get another word of protest out, he's already speaking again

"why is this all about me? I feel like you definitely had something to say. so what was it? what were you gonna tell me back there?"

"you wanna know?" you playfully shove him now that he's back next to you. "mmhm." "is the suspense just killing you?" "mmhmmm." he repeats, more drawn out this time

seeing the rest of the group ahead of you, you shrug like he did a minute ago "ill tell you later." you say

and you don't see it, but he was having an inner war as to wether let himself blush or to stomp his feet in annoyance. then again, he did say the same thing to you

soon enough you get separated again, this time not alone with him

yu eventually get reunited though, having been able to think a little bit more about what had happened and what you where gonna do about it

You see other next at the food court— weathered picnic tables are scattered throughout the grounds

You’re sure hes… somewhere, now you just had to find him….

he feels your presence before you get to him and he sees you, turning around so he could smile at you

You get to the table, but to your surprise, not does he have food for himself but also a separate container of your favorite carnival food

When you sit down he’s not giving you any time, already scootching something that quote “made him think if you when he passed it at a merch stand”

you’re sitting so close to each other that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body, even through his clothes and he can smell your fabric softener and your hair products

suddenly it didn’t feel like you two where in a crowded space, the scent and feel was way too homey to have been melting into out in the open

”figured you were hungry” he says, soft voice next to you breaking the silence

you thank him and take a few bites

“I didn’t eat too fast,” he tells you. And you’re confused for a moment before he continues “you texted me like, twenty minutes ago and after I had told you about the last ride I went on”

you remember “oh!” You neatly shout “well, I am glad you heeded my warning” you were practically beaming in front of him, you feet now turned so that they were perched on the bench for the table

“Cause seriously, the way you described that ride,” you leaned back a little, frowning “it sounded pretty crazy” he nods and says that it was and he wasn’t sure how anyone convinced him to get on that thing that quote “must’ve been invented by people in the Middle Ages as a new kind of torture device”

After a few moments or silence you try to brake it. Not like it was awkward or uncomfortable… you just needed to know “so… what were you gonna tell—“ before you can finish hes cutting you off, looking dead in you eyes and saying “I always think of you”

the look in his eyes is serious, almost pleading

the confession surprises you a little, but not enough to make you not be able to regain your composure a second later

”I know, Jungsu… I know. seems like you always do." he stops looking at you to stare again at his food. "do uh--" with all the feelings where flooding out of him all at once... it was getting hard to get his speech and thoughts all coherent and in order, and suddenly, even after all his forwardness he's getting nervous now.

but neither of you mind it, even though his throat is as dry as a desert

"Do I also think about you?" you ask yourself for him. "all the time."

and now he's fucking beaming even though his food is getting cold in front of him

youre smiling at him too

and really, that was all you two needed to say to understand

Moving on!!!!

=========

ok so as I've mentioned before, jungsu cares so sosososoososo much for you. and yeah he tells you but you see it too

like one time when he came home late and actually dead tired. he had to deal with so many people that day, but he realized that so did you... so he sits up in bed and talks to you even though his eyes are closing on their own. even when you start to lay down and pull the covers up to your chin to wind down, he's still keeping up with whatever you have to say

or a smilier time when he also came home dead tired about ready to flop in bed. which he did

but the next morning, he wakes up and jumps outta bed, happier than ever despite not sleeping in till noon with how tired he was.

why the fuck is he so happy, you ask?

just this little thing called: cause he's got it in his mind he's going to make you breakfast.

you wake up to the wonderful smell and go to the source to see he's almost done making an entire spread. like he thought of everything. you want freshly made whipped cream on your pancakes? say less its already there. fruit with a sweet glaze? look by your favorite breakfast drink its right there

he's shirtless, wearing sweatpants/ night pants that are hanging low on his hips, boxer band poking out (when will it be my turn????!!) his absolutely glorious bare back is turned to you and you're just standing there for a second admiring the view.

"I was waiting for you to drop the eggs." he says, back still turned but now whisking them vigorously so they'll be fluffy.

"need--" "no no, sit down" there was noting special going on at all, he just felt like it

... and it just so happens that making you breakfast is something he just "felt like doing" consequently, after seeing your reaction that first time

uggghhh he just wants to make you happy

and you want the same-- for you two to be happy together

while he eggs are cooking he brings over your drinks. youre sitting at the table and he leans there, almost caging you in as he points to his cheek. you smile and give him a peck there

He brings himself closer as you breath his presence in, putting your chin on his shoulder and closing your eyes in comfort and Surender before he drops lower

he holds your hands in his, guiding your knuckles to his lips to give them soft, small and sweet pecks all over

his chin is almost on your knees as he's doing so and the both of you revel in the closeness-- with your hands balled up tightly in his and his lips kissing at your fingers, spreading warmth throughout the both of you

you role your eyes at him, and all you can do is smile. thought that seems to happen a lot in malls relationship-- being so close, having a friendship so strong, that all you two needed to do was to look at each other a certain way and the point would be conveyed perfectly... so I guess, in a way, you two never strayed too far away from glances and longing stares

~end~

thanks so much for reading! again, if you liked it please show some love like commenting or reblogging! Tumblr works on that system to push fics out and not a "liking" system. so when you just like something all that does is just bookmark it for you. so even though getting attention is not solely why I make fics, a simple reblog/comment really does a lot of good!!

taglist: @itz-yerin

[wintrwinchestr]

Hello Winter ❄️

I want to spread some love, hugs and forehead kisses to all the writers I adore.🩵 ( of course u are on that list)

I don’t even know how to start….so on a random day I decided to read the parts of “obedience” that are out so far and I’m floored. I don’t think in real life I would ever want to be a puppy but for Joel fucking Miller, I would be any day of the week. What made me giggle was this warning “one face slap but she likes it (and so do i)” because so do I !!!!!!! 😍🥰

Maybe I shouldn’t find it so hot to be slapped in the face but I just do there’s no stopping me. 🫣🤭

But what absolutely crushed me into oblivion was your rockstar!joel….. i’m serious. You must’ve put some kind of drug in your writing because it’s just wow, u turned me into a pathetic little puddle. The smut was so incredible hot and the whole Daddy thing is soooooooooo far up my alley so of course while actively reading I had to take multiple breaks to just calm down to not lose my mind while they were fucking.🥵

I would give my soul away to have that Joel fuck me the way he did reader even if it means unavoidable heartbreak. ❤️‍🩹

I truly hope that Reader chews the fuck out of him and makes him live in hell for treating her like that.

And for some reason, I was kind of thinking of Tommy Lee, which is maybe not that fitting, but that’s the only Rockstar I really know and for some reason he popped into my head 🧐

Lastly, I can only say I’m really excited for what else you got in store with both of these stories but please know that you should never feel pressured or forced to get a chapter or story out as quick as possible. I will wait however much time it takes because in the end, it’s absolutely worth it. 🩵

I hope u have fantastic day and take care of yourself Winter ❄️🫶🏻

mina, this is so incredibly kind and sweet, i saw this first thing this morning and i've been thinking about it all day, waiting until my work day was over so i could properly sit down and respond to you.

i'm happy that random lil tag made you giggle!! i probably giggled when i wrote it. you and me both find it hot to get slapped baby, nothing wrong with being into it 💖 every time i watch joel's lil interrogation scene from the first game and he does that "you focus right here" with the slap i blush and kick my feet like want him to do that to me 😔

i am so glad you love my baby rockstar!! daddy kink is like my #1 favorite thing, it pains me to write something without it like what else am i supposed to call u? i'm a slut for titles, especially that one 🤭

i'm excited to finish the next chapter and give it to you all to read!! i've put a lot of thought and work into what joel and reader are both going through post-morning after and then what happens after her little surprise performance that night, i hope you all enjoy reading it :)

you're so true for tommy lee bc i kind of associate him/motley crue with rockstar as well!! in my mind tommy was definitely like the sex, drugs and rock n roll pretty boy back in the day, that impression is mostly due to watching pam & tommy on hulu lol (highly recommend). you're right like it's not quite the same vibe but he definitely kept coming up in my mind too!!

i appreciate your kind ending words so so much 💖 i write/create in the free time i have from my full time job, my creative energy kind of ebbs and flows, some scenes and stories come easier than others but i am so happy i started writing again and i never would have imagined someone as sweet as you would take the time to say such nice things about my writing.

i did have a pretty good day today and you were definitely a part of that 😁 thank you again so much for sending me this amazing message, and thank you for reading!! 💖

[anisaanisa]

Hiii hope you’re well! i hope this doesn’t come off as rude or anything but i was just wondering if there was going to be a conclusion to members only, i just ask because i really liked that fic and the plot, but i understand that sometimes things get in the way and all that. again i hope this isn’t coming off as rude and you can totally disregard this!

Hi, anon! Thank you for the ask, I appreciate it. At first, I thought to respond quickly so you were more likely to catch it, but the further I moved away from it, the more I thought on it, and felt it deserved a more fleshed out answer.

You’re not rude for asking, and I’m glad you reached out. I remember very well what it’s like to be a reader that’s left wanting for a fic that’s seemingly been abandoned (some of my personal favourites have remained unfinished since 2006), so I understand completely where you’re coming from. I never considered that I might be that author for someone until I got this ask, so you have nothing to worry about. I’ve taken it in good faith, and if anything, I’m a little humbled.

The short answer: Yes, there is a conclusion! And it's...done. The final chapter is sitting at 27K, half-edited, and put to rest by me a while ago now when I stalled on the editing (my bain, my beloathed). I’d like to get it finished and out of the way soon, but I hate to make promises, so I’ve got a much longer answer below the cut.

The long answer: Members Only appeared at a very particular point in my (and everyone elses) lives. Covid was still at the forefront of…everything, and it was cathartic for me to outline and write here and there. I really like the characterisation, their dynamic and the world they were plopped into. The period of rest and relaxation (aka floundering on the editing) rendered it unfinished on the reader end for 2 reasons:

1) The world was moving on from a global pandemic whilst I remained stagnant (irl things). Like you garnered, things get in the way, stories need to be told at a certain time, and there’s a small ache there with tying up threads that feel a tad fragile and gnawed on.

2) The constant fluctuation of writing woes. I go through ups and downs with how I feel about my own writing – sometimes I read something back with wonder and I think “wow, I did this.” Other times, I cringe and think “wow, I did this?”. Fun factoid: they're the same story. I was just in a different mode each time. And I remember with stark clarity how much I did not vibe with my own writing at the point in time where I was editing that final chapter.

Fanfiction is an inherently selfish act, and because of this, I go with the flow when it comes to the things I share, and I’d be lying if I didn't acknowledge writing is my most emotionally taxing hobby. It takes so much more bandwidth for me than art and anything else that I have going on. Writing, editing, all that, it ebbs and flows with my mood. The state of the world. The position of the sun.

How much water I drank that day.

There’s a whole vault of stories and outlines living in my PC that may never see the light of day – but they were there for me to pour myself into when I needed them the most. That’s my satisfaction: the process, rather than the result, and unfortunately, sometimes that need or want being quenched leaves those that are along for the ride left unsatisfied.

And I get it. Cause I’m a reader just like you, and I've been left wanting.

I still care about this story a lot. It’s alive to me in a way that I can’t really articulate without you living in my head with me, and I know there are authors that might be reading this that know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not abandoned – if anything, it’s so alive that putting it to an end is like a tiny death. There’s grief in finishing stories that are hard to navigate unless you’ve done it, and I think that’s one of the things that’s so personal to fiction – both fan and original – it’s just really hard to say goodbye sometimes, so it's easier to not say goodbye at all.

Thankfully, I’m in a place where I’m jiving with the words I’m making. Hopefully I can put that energy into seeing it published before the end of the earth. And thank you again for reaching out. Sometimes yer pal just needs a little reminder that her stories meant something to someone, somewhere.

ttyl bbs <3

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Hi Sarah, would you possibly have any tips to feel less insecure and self- loathing? I have always struggled with this, and currently, despite being happy with my life career and social life wise, I have been feeling debilitating and kind of obsessive self hatred and insecurity for a while and I really don’t know how to stop this, I’ve tried to implement things I have learnt in therapy but they also don’t seem to be effective for this specifically and I am just, at a loss :(

Thanks always for being so kind and amazing!

Hi friend! Firstly - I'm sorry you're mentally really going through it right now. All I can tell you is that you are not alone in that feeling and I hope that the knowledge that you are not facing this by yourself brings you some comfort.

I'll also say that I think it's totally normal for these feelings to come in ebbs and flows - and that yes they can come even when you are otherwise 'happy' or that you have no outright 'reason' to feel that way because you seemingly have a lot of other slots in your life filled, ticked, and complete. Mental gremlins do not care about these things. They are illogical. They do not follow patterns, they do not abide by rules, and - sadly - they often never go away completely.

I pride myself on typically having it together - or at least acing the appearance of it. But I experienced what I will call my 'annual mental breakdown' over the Christmas break where I just couldn't keep it together and all my feelings came out like word vomit to a friend. And the immediate aftermath of that was, "Wow why did I let someone else in on how horribly I am actually doing". But the next few days after that was, "You should probably learn the strength in vulnerability and using your friends for the primary reason to have friends: As pillars of strength and empathy who support you when you need them."

And that was a lot for my brain to take.

Basically what I'm saying is - admitting you're not okay to someone who cares about you is the first step. And you've taken that. And I'm proud of you. And I hope what you take with you over the next few weeks as you're trying to get on the other side of the mountain of feelings that you're feeling is knowing that there is another side. That this isn't forever. That this doesn't define you. That these feelings are not the end - that they may never end. But that you will find the other side. You will find respite. I really hope that for you. And I hope you find comfort in knowing you're not alone in finding that.

[cate-by-the-way]

*T/W death, parent loss, grief, sudden loss, unexpected loss, parents, parental relationships (Take care)*

Ready for a moment of vulnerability? Sure, you are! That’s what the internet is for right?

I unexpectedly loss my mother in January. This isn’t my first experience with losing a parent. My father passed away from cancer almost 7 years ago. That loss was terrible. While I thought I had prepared myself for it, I indeed had not. (Preparing yourself for loss may be an impossible task.) I was very close to my father and losing him sent me into an incredibly deep depression that no one in my life understood or sympathized with. However, I didn’t go through that experience alone. I had my mom. Our relationship was not a pretty one for a long time but after the loss of my dad, we relied on each other. We finally got to a place of forgiveness and healing. Wow, was it a nice place to get to. So losing her has left me alone. I have a sibling but she doesn’t really want anything to do with me. My best friend moved last December so I don’t have that tether. I’m just floating out here (with my therapist) in my grief.

I figured out last time that grief is a weird experience. It hurts and it comes in waves that are sometimes so strong that they rip your feet right out from under you and take you with the current, leaving you (sometimes literally) fighting for your life. Other times it laps gently at your toes and makes you feel fond of it. You can be appreciative for the grief and the space it takes up. It can also make anything emotional. Here are some weird places/ things I’ve wept over since losing my mom:

The baking aisle is the grocery store. Yes, seeing shelves of cake mixes made me miss my mom (and grandmother) and caused me to cry and shop at a speed I never have before. I had a bigger break down once I got home.

A colleague’s butterfly brooch. Her mother’s signature is butterflies. My mother’s was butterflies. I loved that her mom loves them and it made me ache for buy something butterfly themed for my mom. I can’t do that anymore and it hurts.

Notes left by that same colleague on my desk. As a child my mom left notes of encouragement in my school bag or lunch bag (on the rare times I took it) because anxiety has been my best friend since I was 3.

The movie Dirty Dancing. My mom loved *loved* Patrick Swayze (May he also Rest In Peace) so I can’t hear that song (you know the one) or see even the cover without losing my mind.

The cats at my lace of work. We have feral cats that float around my workplace (it’s a park) and my mother took care of feral cats that would show up at her house (which was in the woods). I like cats ok but they’ve never are me cry before.

That’s just a few. Grief is weird and it’s powerful and, unfortunately, it doesn’t go away. It ebbs and flows. It lives in your bones. It changes your brain (that may not be scientifically true but I can tell you that speaking from experience it feel very true). It’s awful and weirdly ok.

Anyway, now a card carrying member of the Dead Parents Club. Hate that I am but thankful for the support I’ve found there so far. It’s a weird place to be.

[writer-ish]

makai

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Brooke Spiers) Word Count: 3.4k Rating: 18+ (NSFW - minors dni) Author's Note: makai (mah-kigh) - one of the four key directions on Oahu, but used on all Hawaiian Islands; makai means "toward the ocean".

Premise: A follow-up fic to this text exchange. Ethan and Brooke meet for a little pre-planned Hawaiian rendezvous.

Hey, I’m here. Where you at?

Brooke taps out the message on her cell phone, keeping one eye on the almost-empty lobby.

It's late now - late for check-in, late for milling around, late, it seems, for Hawaii itself - and she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't feeling a bit sleepy—a bit like, maybe, she should be getting up for a six AM shift in Boston after having gotten a good seven hours of sleep the night before?

Rather than waiting for her elderly boyfriend to meet her for a late-night swim - and a little more, hopefully - after sleeping a total of five half-lucid hours on an airplane in the last twenty-four hour period.

She's about to text him again, when she hears a voice from behind her.

"Christ, enough with the texting already."

Whirling around, she can't help the grin that splits her cheeks at the sight of him. Without responding, she throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him in an impromptu hug. His hair is a little damp and appears freshly washed and there's the sharp, pleasant, and familiar smell of his cologne that she inhales when she presses her body to his.

He seems almost nonplussed at her public and spontaneous affection, his arms staying at his sides for a beat longer than they should, before he returns her embrace. She giggles as he even takes her for a half spin, kissing her neck before setting her down, hands lingering at her hips.

"Well, aren't you in a good mood," he comments, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

She shrugs, giving him a cheeky grin. "It's nice to see you. Plus," she adds, taking his hand and interlocking her fingers with his as she starts to walk, "I'm in vacation mode, so you're going to a get a much better version of me for the next few days."

He allows her to lead him out of the lobby and to the stone pathway that will eventually take them down to the beach.

"I like the version I get at home," he remarks once they're in the open air, which smells like hibiscus and coconut and the reminiscent warmth of the sun still emanating from the stones.

As they walk, he tugs her closer and puts his arm over her shoulders. She smiles up at him as she wraps her arm around his waist. He returns it, staring down at her with an inscrutable look, but one that causes a bloom of warmth to start in her chest and work its way outwards.

"It's nice to be somewhere different, though." Resting her head on his shoulder, they continue to amble down the path. "I like us at home, too, but…" She trails off with a shrug. "We work a lot. And don't see each other outside of work enough. I mean, I thought with you suspended I'd at least get a date night, then you had to go and get your freaking job back!"

He throws his head back and laughs, a loud, head-shaking, self-deprecating thing.

"Oh god, I've really done you wrong, haven't I?"

"Yes!" she insists, though she can't stop her own giggles. "Not even a dinner out. Our first movie in months was on the private jet that Vik got me."

Ethan rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't gotten you a private jet yet?"

"Nope." Her hair tosses against her cheeks as she shakes her head, unable to keep the smile off her face. She loves teasing him, she loves being away with him, she loves—she cuts her thoughts short and focuses on their banter. "For shame, sir."

He glances at her and she sees the heat in his gaze as she calls him "sir". She bites her lip and looks up at him innocently. His eyes go from hers down to her lip in an instant and she laughs again.

"You're like one of Pavlov's dogs, I swear." Breaking free from him, she jogs lightly ahead of him down the path, her sandals slapping the pavement with her movements. "Anyway, your old bones are slowing me down. Keep up!" She takes off towards the beach, her sundress whipping around her legs, even as she can hear his bit off curse from behind her.

"I'm not running!" he calls, his voice growing distant as she puts more space between them.

"Your loss!" she yells over her shoulder, before turning around and jogging backwards to tease him even more. She screams as she sees him gaining speed quickly and her shrieks turn into hysterical giggles as he ducks down and lifts her effortlessly over his shoulder, continuing on without breaking his stride.

She buries her face in the thin cotton of his shirt so that she doesn’t wake up all the other sleepy inhabitants of their resort with her giddy snorts, especially when he playfully smacks her butt as he carries her steadily to the beach. Soon, she feels his steps change as his feet sink into the soft sand.

"Wow." His voice is soft and, even though it's coming from somewhere near her rump, it still carries over to where she is, hanging securely off his shoulder.

"I want to see!" She squirms and he grips her bottom, holding her still as he reaches up with his other hand. She feels him wriggle his finger under the heel strap of her sandals and she stills, waiting as he removes first one and then the other. Leaning forward, he places her down gently and she immediately wiggles her toes in the warm, fine sand before whirling around to take in the view.

"Oh, wow," she breathes as well, because truly there isn't another word for it.

The moonlight reflects off the dark surface of the waves, illuminating the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. Dark shadows on the horizon appear to be mountains or something in the distance - she hadn't had a chance to check out the beach in the daytime upon their arrival, so she's just seeing it now for the first time, perhaps not in all its colourful splendour, but still, majestic and beautiful in its own right.

And the stars - Brooke can't remember the last time she'd seen so many of them. They sparkle in the inky blue firmament like someone had tossed an infinity of tiny diamonds on a velvet tray. She breathes in the salty sweet air deeply as her and Ethan take in the view together, silently, for a moment.

"Thank you for asking me to come here with you," Ethan says quietly, eyes still on the sea and the sky. "I didn't realize how much I needed this… this quiet beauty. This moment of serenity."

She quirks a smile at him, taking his hand in hers. He looks down at their intertwined fingers and then back up at her face, his eyes warm and soft, the pale blue glistening in the moonlight.

"I did," she tells him simply with a little shrug, still smiling up at him.

He looks at her for another beat, his eyes conveying a message that only her heart understands, then he turns to her, stroking her cheek softly with his knuckles, before leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips.

She cups his cheeks in her hands and returns it, keeping it soft, sweet, open-mouthed and warm. After a moment, she pulls back and looks up at him, the smile back on her face. It’s silly, but it almost feels like a permanent fixture tonight; one she can't get rid of even if she tries.

He’s watching her again, eyes heavy and heated, even in the glowing light of the moon. He slides his thumbs over her cheekbones in a light caress. "Brooke, I—"

Even though they’ve gone down this road many times before - the incomplete sentences, the longing looks, the words that are felt but not said - Brooke still feels her breath catch and her heart rate increase as she waits.

They stay suspended like that for a moment, the waves and the moon their only companions, when suddenly the call of a night bird, tropical and unfamiliar, breaks them from their reverie.

Ethan looks up and Brooke looks away, disappointed - though not surprised - that the moment got away from them again without any new revelations.

“Looks like we have company,” Ethan remarks, his voice carefully composed, even as he pulls her closer, rubbing her bare arms with his hands.

“Well,” Brooke replies, still determined to make this a good night, “as long as our only company is avian...” She pulls away from him, reaching up and teasing at the straps of her sundress. “What do you say we go for a swim?”

Biting back a smirk, he looks back and forth across the long expanse of beach. Her gaze follows his, ensuring along with him that they truly are alone. As much as she thrives on the spontaneity of a moment like this, she'd rather not have any of their colleagues - or any guest for that matter - see her naked. Which is exactly what she plans on being in due course.

“Looks pretty quiet.” His gaze locks in on hers again. “No?”

She nods, teeth catching at her bottom lip as she slowly backs up towards the water, pulling the straps of her dress down to fall on her upper arms. “Indeed it does, Dr Ramsey.” She pulls one arm out and then the other, leaving the dress clinging to the tops of her breasts. She continues to step backwards until her feet hit the shoreline, warm, frothy waves caressing her ankles. She laughs in delight and looks down, sliding around in the wet sand.

Ethan is closing in on her, his shirt already off. She sees he’s holding her sandals and his shoes in one hand, shirt slung over his arm.

“How’s the water?” he asks, though his eyes are still on the beach, as though he’s looking for something.

When she realizes his apparent destination, she can't help but shake her head fondly - he's walked over to one of the resort chairs, stacked up neatly for the evening, and is placing their shoes and his shirt on the pile.

Heaven forbid they get sand on them, she thinks, unable to stop the swell of affection she feels for her fastidious man.

Making her way over to him, she shimmies the dress up and over her head.

“Space for one more thing?” she asks innocently waiting for him to turn to look at her.

When he does, she gets immediate gratification at his dumbstruck look.

She had foregone a bra completely, so she watches as he takes her in from head to toe, nipples already stiffening in the exposed night air and under his gaze. She'd also pulled out the "special occasion" underwear, a lacy, boy-cut confection that she knew he'd appreciate.

And by the look in his eyes, he seems very appreciative.

Smiling cheekily, she shimmies down the underwear as well, tossing it to him before wading further into the water.

For all her bravado, standing stark naked on a public beach for longer than thirty seconds stretches the limits of her comfort, so it feels nice to seek both warmth and privacy in the languid tropical waves.

She had almost been worried that the water would be cold, but instead it's the perfect temperature - just nice enough to submerge herself in without feeling like she's entering a frigid bath. She wades out a bit deeper until the water just skims the top of her breasts and she turns in time to see Ethan entering the water.

Her heart picks up speed as she admires him, his naked, muscular body limned by the moonlight, walking into the ocean like some sort of reverse Poseidon, his eyes fixated on her and her alone.

Brooke shivers in a way that has nothing to do with water temperature, goosebumps lifting the fine hairs on her arms as she waits for him to get to her. The anticipation is sweet, but not as sweet as seeing him up close, smiling down at her as he collects her in his arms.

Their naked bodies slide together and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, feeling his arousal at the crux of her body. She kisses his neck, his jaw, his cheek, as his hands glide down to her bottom to lift her higher.

"This is nice," she murmurs, twining her arms tighter around his neck.

He hums in agreement, stroking her back up and down with one hand as they quietly watch the moon ripple on the horizon.

"I love touching you like this." He presses a kisses to her shoulder, squeezes her tighter. "If I could keep you this way, naked, pressed up against me, your skin on mine—if I could hold you like this forever, I would do it."

"Might be difficult to get work done." Her response is flippant, but his words have struck a chord deep inside her and her heart twangs painfully at the implications.

He snorts. "I don't care. Who needs work."

She pulls back to look at him, affecting a look of shock. "I'm sorry, who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Ethan Ramsey?"

He shakes his head, burying his face in her neck. When he speaks again, his words are muffled against her skin. "Dr. Ramsey has learned more in the past three years than in any of the previous years combined." He pulls back to look at her, one hand still holding her against him securely, the other pushing her damp waves back from her face. "Learned and grown and just—" He shakes his head before continuing. "Just tried to be better. To do better. Thanks to you." He kisses her and she can taste the salt on his lips.

"I can't take all the credit," she whispers against his mouth as they pull apart after a beat.

"Why not?" he whispers back, pressing another salty kiss to her lips. "You do it all the time at work anyway."

"Hey—!" She pulls away indignantly. "It's not my fault I’m the only one who can actually solve our cases—"

He laughs loudly and spins her around, making her lose track of her indignation as she dissolves into helpless giggles.

The warm water swirls over their bodies and she tightens her arms and legs around him. Her giggles inadvertently turn into a soft moan as she feels him, hard against her centre, settled right between her spread legs.

He tucks a kiss below her ear, nipping lightly at her pulse. "I want you so bad," he murmurs, sucking gently on the spot where he bit.

"So what are you waiting for," she breathes, her head lolling back as her hips move restlessly, her body stroking wetly against his length.

"Not in here," he groans, "the bacteria—not good for your—" He grunts as she presses more tightly against him, continuing to rub intimately in a way that has them both moaning.

"Have I ever told you—" She gasps, her breath coming out in short pants. "—how hot it is when you say the word 'bacteria' during sex?"

His response is a muffled groan into her shoulder as her jerky movements become more frantic, chasing the climax that has been inevitable since the first touch of salt water on her bare skin.

It's an odd sensation, the languid warmth of the ocean surrounding them while a different, more intimate, kind of wetness grows between. She misses the feel of him inside her during a moment like this, but there is something strangely, captivatingly erotic about making love this way. Their bodies sliding together in a new sort of intimacy, his rigid heat captured between her velvety folds.

“Ethan, I—” Her voice catches and his fingers tighten on her bottom, holding her to him in a way that hits that exact spot she needs it to. "Ah—ah!" She feels her muscles clench as a wave of pleasure crests…then crashes down over her. She lets out a moan, throwing her head back, the movement lifting her half out the water. Her nipples hit the cooler night air as her breasts emerge from the sea, and the feel of it in contrast to her climax sends prickles of sensation across her skin.

Ethan ducks down, kissing between her breasts as his hips jerk and finally still. He lets out a long groan through clenched teeth and she feels a bloom of warmth between them as she holds his head tightly against her chest. She can feel her heart pounding and his heartbeats echo hers from where his chest is pressed, closer to her stomach.

They hold each other for a protracted beat, the only sounds the crashing waves and their ragged breaths.

"Would you consider that," she finally says, still slightly breathless, "acceptable for my pH balance?"

He snickers deeply into her skin as he wraps his arms around her tighter before releasing her slowly. She allows her body to dip back and float leisurely on the bobbing waves. Letting out a contented sigh, she looks up at the stars, her eyes catching on a streak of light separate from the rest.

"Look!" She sits up quickly and grabs Ethan's arm, pointing at the sky.

He looks up as well and they watch as two, three stars make a quick descent from their position, a trail of sparkles in their wake.

"I've never seen a shooting star," she breathes, mesmerized.

He doesn't reply, so after a minute she glances over at him. He's staring at her, a soft smile tilting the corners of his lips. She can't see his face that well, even in the bright glow of an almost-full moon, but she recognizes the gentleness in his expression, the curve of his cheek as the shadow of a dimple barely appears.

She loves him so much.

She loves him so much that her heart aches with it, like a balloon that's about to pop or a cup that's overflowing.

She loves him for all his flaws, for all his hubris, for the ways he tries to be so good, and for all the ways he fails.

Her eyes well up as she looks at him, the words yearning to tumble from her lips. To tell him that she's always on his side. That he's hers, no matter what. There's no one else and there never will be.

That this is it, for her.

Instead she smiles back at him, albeit a little tremulously, and she leans forward, pushing off with her feet as she wades back to the shore.

He follows her quietly and they dress quickly, clothes awkward and difficult to tug onto their still-wet bodies.

As she grabs her sandals and goes to walk, he grabs her hand to stop her and pulls her into his arms.

They stand there for a bit, quiet and still, and Brooke feels all the little moments that have brought them here swirling around them in a hopeful nostalgia; the promise of things to come, built on a foundation of what they've surpassed.

"Time to sleep?" She looks up at the rumbling sound of his voice, blinking her eyes tiredly without even having realized just how tired she was.

"Mmm," she agrees, pulling away. "Your room or mine?"

He looks askance at her and she groans good-naturedly. "Fine, we'll be good. But see if you last more than one night without me. Just see!" She pokes his shoulder and grins at him and he catches her hand and holds it tightly against his chest, over his heart.

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow morning?" He brings her hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to the palm. "Hawaii has the best—"

"Yes, yes, I know, you talked my ear off about it on the plane, I remember." She shakes her head. "You're so boring I literally don't know how I stand you."

He grins at her and shrugs good-naturedly as they begin the slow walk back to the resort. "I try not to tempt fate too often by asking that very same question."

"Probably for the best." She tilts her head onto him and he drapes his arm around her shoulders. They meander down the path, away from the ocean, in comfortable silence.

She knows, deep down, how he feels about her. And if the final show of her loyalty to him is for her to wait until he's ready to tell her, well, then—

She'll wait.

[kmclaude]

Forgive me Father, I have no awful headcanons for you, only a general question on comic making. How do you do it, writing-wise/how do you decide what points go where, how do you plot it out (or do you have any resources on the writing aspect that you find useful?) Not to get too bogged down in details, but I attended a writer’s workshop and the author in residence suggested I transfer my wordy sci-fi WIP into graphic novel script, as it might work better. (I do draw, but I don’t know if I have it in me to draw a whole comic—characters in motion? Doing things? With backgrounds? How dare, why can’t everyone just stand around looking pretty)

I was interested but it quickly turned into a lot of internal screaming as I tried to figure out how to compress the hell out of it, since novels are free to do a lot more internal monologuing and such compared to a comic format (to say nothing of trying to write a script without seeing how the panels lay out—just for my own sake, I might have to do both concurrently.)

As an aside, to get a feel for graphic novels I was rereading 99RM and was reminded of how great it was—tightly plotted, intriguing, and anything to do with Ashmedai was just beautifully drawn. I need more Monsignor Tiefer and something something there are parallels between Jehan and Daniel in my head and I don’t know if they make sense but it works for me. (As an aside, I liked the emphasis on atonement being more than just the word sorry, but acknowledgment you did wrong and an attempt to remedy it—I don’t know why that spoke to me the way that it did.)

I thought Tumblr had a word count limit for asks but so far it has offered zero resistance, oh well. I don’t have much else to say but on the topic of 99RM, Adam getting under Monsignor’s skin is amazing, 10/10 (about the Pride picture earlier)

wow tumblr got rid of the markdown editor! or at least in asks which means the new editor probably has no markdown....god i hate this site! anyway...

Totally! So first, giant thank you for the compliments! Second, I have a few questions in turn for you before I dive into a sort of answer, since I can give some advice to your questions in general but it also sounds like you have a specific conundrum on your hands.

My questions to your specific situation are:

did the author give any reason for recommending a, in your words, "wordy" story be turned into a graphic novel?

is the story you're writing more, like you said, "internal monologuing"? action packed? where do the visuals come from?

do you WANT it to be a comic? furthermore, do you want it to be a comic you then must turn around and draw? or would you be interested in writing for comics as a comic writer to have your words turned into art?

With those questions in mind, let me jump into the questions you posed me!

Let me start with a confession...

I've said this before but let me say it again: Ninety-Nine Righteous Men was not originally a comic — it was a feature-length screenplay! And furthermore, it was written for a class so it got workshopped again and again to tighten the plot by a classroom of other nerds — so as kind as your compliments are, I'm giving credit where credit is due as that was not just a solo ship sailing on the sea. On top of that, it got adapted (by me) into a comic for my thesis, so my advisor also helped me make it translate or "read" well given I was director, actor, set designer, writer, editor, SFX guy, etc. all in one. And it was a huge help to have someone say "there is no way you can go blow by blow from script to comic: you need to make edits!" For instance, two scenes got compressed to simple dialogue overlaid on the splashpage of Ashmedai raping Caleb (with an insert panel of Adam and Daniel talking the next day.) What had been probably at least 5 pages became 1.

Additionally, I don't consider myself a strong plotter. That said, I found learning to write for film made the plotting process finally make some damn sense since the old plot diagram we all got taught in grammar school English never made sense as a reader and definitely made 0 sense as a writer — for me, for some reason, the breakdown of 25-50-25 (approx. 25 pages for act 1, 50 for act 2 split into 2 parts of 25 each, 25 pages for act 3) and the breaking down of the beats (the act turning points, the mid points, the low point) helped give me a structure that just "draw a mountain, rising action, climax is there, figure it out" never did. Maybe the plot diagram is visually too linear when stories have ebb and flow? I don't know. But it never clicked until screenwriting. So that's where I am coming from. YMMV.

I should also state that there's Official Ways To Write Comic Scripts to Be Drawn By An Artist (Especially If You Work For A Real Publisher As a Writer) and there's What Works For You/Your Team. I don't give a rat's ass about the former (and as an artist, I kind of hate panel by panel breakdowns like you see there) so I'm pretty much entirely writing on the latter here. I don't give a good god damn about official ways of doing anything: what works for you to get it done is what matters.

What Goes Where?

Like I said, 99RM was a screenplay so it follows, beat-wise, the 3-act screenplay structure (hell, it's probably more accurate to say it follows the act 1/act 2A/act 2B/act 3 structure.) So there was the story idea or concept that then got applied to those story beats associated with the structure, and from there came the Scene-by-scene Breakdown (or Expanded Scene Breakdown) which basically is an outline of beats broken down into individual scenes in short prose form so you get an overview of what happens, can see pacing, etc. In the resources at the end I put some links that give information on the whole story beat thing.

(As an aside: for all my short comics, I don't bother with all that, frankly. I usually have an image or a concept or a bit of writing — usually dialogue or monologue, sometimes a concrete scene — that I pick at and pick at in a little sketchbook, going back and forth between writing and thumbnail sketches of the page. Or I just go by the seat of my pants and bullshit my way through. Either or. Those in many ways are a bit more like poems, in my mind: they are images, they are snapshots, they are feelings that I'm capturing in a few panels. Think doing mental math rather than writing out geometric proofs, yanno?)

Personally, I tend to lean on dialogue as it comes easier for me (it's probably why I'm so drawn to screenwriting!) so for me, if I were to do another longform GN, I'd probably take my general "uhhhhhh I have an idea and some beats maybe so I guess this should happen this way?" outline and start breaking it down scene by scene (I tend to write down scenes or scene sketches in that "uhhhh?" outline anyway LOL) and then figure out basic dialogue and action beats — in short, I'd kind of do the work of writing a screenplay without necessarily going full screenplay format (though I did find the format gave me an idea of timing/pacing, as 1 page of formatted script is about equal to 1 minute of screentime, and gave me room to sketch thumbnails or make edits on the large margins!) If you're not a monologue/soliloque/dialogue/speech person and more an image and description person, you may lean more into visuals and scenes that cut to each other.

Either way this of course introduces the elephant in the panel: art! How do you choose what to draw?

The answer is, well, it depends! The freedom of comics is if you can imagine it, you can make it happen. You have the freedoms (and audio limitations) of a truly silent film with none of the physical limitations. Your words can move in real time with the images or they can be a narrative related to the scene or they could be nonsequitors entirely! The better question is how do you think? Do you need all the words and action written first before you break down the visuals? Do you need a panel by panel breakdown to be happy, or can you freewheel and translate from word and general outlines to thumbnails? What suits you? I really cannot answer this because I think when it comes to what goes where with regard to art, it's a bit of "how do you process visuals" and also a bit of "who's drawing this?" — effectively, who is the interpreter for the exact thing you are writing? Is it you or someone else? If it's you, would you benefit from a barebones script alongside thumbnailed paneling? Would you be served by a barebones script, then thumbnails, then a new script that includes panel and page breakdowns? What frees you up to do what you need to do to tell your story?

If I'm being honest, I don't necessarily worry about panels or what something will look like necessarily until I'm done writing. I may have an image that I clearly state needs to happen. I may even have a sequence of panels that I want to see and I do indeed sketch that out and make note of it in my script. But exactly how things will be laid out, paneled, situated? That could change up until I've sketched my final pencils in CSP (but I am writer and artist so admittedly I get that luxury.)

How do I compress from novel to comic?

Honest answer? You don't. Not really. You adapt from one to another. It's more a translation. Something that would take forever to write may take 1 page in a comic or may take a whole issue.

I'm going to pick on Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo spent a whole-ass book in Notre-Dame de Paris talking about a bird's eye view of Paris and other medieval architecture boring stuff, with I guess some foreshadowing with Montfaucon. Who cares. Not me. I like story. Anyway. When we translate that book to a movie any of the billion times someone's done that, we don't spend a billion years talking at length about medieval Paris. There's no great monologuing about the gibbet or whatever: you get to have some establishing shots, maybe a musical number, and then you move tf on. Because it's a movie, right? Your visuals are right there. We can see medieval Paris. We can see the cathedral. We can see the gibbet. We don't need a whole book: it's visually right there. Same with a comic: you may need many paragraphs to describe, say, a space station off of Sirius and one panel to show it.

On the flip side, you may take one line, maybe two, to say a character keyed in the special code to activate the holodeck; depending on the visual pacing, that could be a whole page of panels (are we trying to stretch time? slow it down? what are we emphasizing?) A character gives a sigh of relief — one line of text, yeah? That could be a frozen panel while a conversation continues on or that could be two (or more!) panels, similar to the direction [a beat] in screenwriting.

Sorry there's not a super easy answer there to the question of compression: it's a lot more of a tug, a push-pull, that depends on what you're conveying.

So Do I Have It In Me to Write & Draw a GN?

The only way you'll know is by doing. Scary, right? The thing is, you don't necessarily need to be an animation king or God's gift to background artists to draw a comic.

Hell, I hate backgrounds. I still remember sitting across from my friend who said "Claude you really need to draw an establishing exterior of the church at some point" and me being like "why do you hate me specifically" because drawing architecture? Again? I already drew the interior of the church altar ONCE, that should be enough, right? But I did draw an exterior of the church. Sorta. More like the top steeple. Enough to suggest what I needed to suggest to give the audience a better sense of place without me absolutely losing my gourd trying to render something out of my wheelhouse at the time.

And that's kinda the ticket, I think. Not everyone's a master draftsman. Not everyone has all the skills in every area. And regardless, from page one to page one hundred, your skills will improve. That's all part of it — and in the meantime, you should lean into your strengths and cheat where you can.

Do you need to lovingly render a background every single panel? Christ no! Does every little detail need to be drawn out? Sure if you want your hand to fall off. Cheat! Use Sketchup to build models! Use Blender to sculpt forms to paint over! Use CSP Assets for prebuilt models and brushes if you use CSP! Take photographs and manip them! Cheat! Do what you need to do to convey what you need to convey!

For instance, a tip/axiom/"rule" I've seen is one establishing shot per scene minimum and a corollary to that has been include a background once per page minimum as grounding (no we cannot all have eternal floating heads and characters in the void. Unless your comic is set in the void. In which case, you do you.) People ain't out here drawing hyper detailed backgrounds per each tiny panel. The people who DO do that are insane. Or stupid. Or both. Or have no deadline? Either way, someone's gonna have a repetitive stress injury... Save yourself the pain and the headache. Take shortcuts. Save your punches for the big K.O. moments.

Start small. Make an 8-page zine. Tell a beginning, a middle, an end in comic form. Bring a scene to life in a few pages. See what you're comfortable drawing and where you struggle. See where you can lean heavily into your comfort zones. Learn how to lean out of your comfort zone. Learn when it's worth it to do the latter.

Or start large. Technically my first finished comic (that wasn't "a dumb pencil thing I drew in elementary school" or "that 13 volume manga I outlined and only penciled, what, 7 pages of in sixth grade" or "random one page things I draw about my characters on throw up on the interwebz") was 99RM so what do I know. I'm just some guy on the internet.

(That's not self-deprecating, I literally am some guy on the internet talking about my path. A lot of this is gonna come down to you and what vibes with you.)

Resources on writing

Some of these are things that help me and some are things that I crowd-sourced from others. Some of these are going to be screenwriting based, some will be comic based.

Making Comics by Scott McCloud: I think everyone recommends this but I think it is a useful book if you're like "ahh!!! christ!! where do I start!!!???" It very much breaks down the elements of comics and the world they exist in and the principles involved, with the caveat that there are no rules! In fact, I need to re-read it.

Comic Book Design: I picked this up at B&N on a whim and in terms of just getting a bird's eye view of varied ways to tackle layout and paneling? It's such a great resource and reference! I personally recommend it as a way to really get a feel for what can be done.

the screenwriter's bible: this is a book that was used in my class. we also used another book that's escaping me but to be honest, I never read anything in school and that's why I'm so stupid. anyway, I'd say check it out if you want, especially if you start googling screenwriting stuff and it's like 20 billion pieces of advice that make 0 sense -- get the core advice from one place and then go from there.

Drawing Words & Writing Pictures: many people I know recommended this. I think I have it? It may be in storage. So frankly, I'd already read a bunch of books on comics before grabbing this that it kind of felt like a rehash. Which isn't shade on the authors — I personally was just a sort of "girl, I don't need comics 101!!!"

Invisible Ink: A Practical Guide to Building Stories that Resonate: this has been recommended so many times to me. I cannot personally speak on it but I can say I do trust those who rec'd it to me so I am passing it along

the story circle: this is pretty much the hero's journey. a useful way to think of journeys! a homie pretty much swears by it

a primer on beats: quick google search got me this that outlines storybeats

save the cat!: what the above refers to, this gives a more genre-specific breakdown. also wants to sell you on the software but you don't need that.

I hope this helps and please feel free to touch base with more info about your specific situation and hopefully I'll have more applicable answers.

[lillupon]

AEV Chapter 21 Bonus: Canon-divergent AU

If you’ve been following me for a while, you may have seen me blabbing about Wonwoo getting pregnant in this fic! I actually debated for a long time on whether or not male omegas could conceive. If male omegas could not get pregnant, it could be another reason why they occupy the lowest rung in the societal hierarchy. Anyway, I scrapped that idea because there’s something very thrilling about Mingyu knocking Wonwoo up—in particular, while he is still Wonwoo’s student.

But then I thought: Maybe alphas are more virile and omegas are more fertile during their cycles. They didn’t use protection while Mingyu was in rut. So, despite Wonwoo being on the pill, he gets pregnant. He doesn’t find out that he’s pregnant until he and Mingyu have already broken up. He keeps the child. Names her Jeongyeon.

I imagine Mingyu and Wonwoo reconnecting in the same way they did in chapter 20. Wonwoo reluctantly cuts their first meeting short, but this time, not with the excuse of being hungry and having to do more work later:

Wonwoo slips off the table and stretches his arms over head. The vertebrae between his shoulder blades pop satisfyingly. “I’m sorry, Mingyu. I’d love to chat more, but I have to run.”

Mingyu also slides off the desk. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you this long.”

You can keep me for as long as you like. Wonwoo doesn’t voice the thought out loud, but it embarrasses him just to think it. Things have changed. Now, Wonwoo is just one face in a sea of thousands, just one person out of many who loves Mingyu. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed catching up with you and hearing about what you’ve been up to.”

Mingyu smiles at him. “You don’t have to spare my feelings.”

Wonwoo laughs softly. “I’m serious! I would have liked to talk more, but I, ah—I need to go pick my daughter up from daycare.”

The smile freezes on Mingyu’s lips. His throat bobs as he swallows. It’s a beat before he recovers. “I’m sorry for keeping you from your family. I didn’t realise you had a kid and a mate now.”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “It’s just my daughter and me.”

“Oh,” Mingyu says. “Your mate…”

“Not in the picture anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” Mingyu says. Stiff. Awkward. Cautiously curious, he asks, “Did they uh… You know… Kick the bucket?”

Wonwoo’s laugh is genuine. Kicking balls rather than buckets, he wants to say. “No, they’re alive and well. We just went our separate ways.”

* 

Mingyu’s heart falls out the bottom of his stomach when Wonwoo says that he needs to go pick his daughter up from daycare. They had spent the last two hours chatting and laughing. Mingyu had found himself falling all over again. Charmed by this beautiful man with his beautiful smile. 

Of course someone else had been captivated too. He had steeled himself for this before he walked through the doors of Carat Elementary, that Wonwoo might belong to another person now. The mental preparation does nothing to ease his disappointment. 

His heart is saved from its death throes by the words It’s just my daughter and me. It valiantly climbs up to his chest again. It still hurts, but with a different sort of wound. Wonwoo had loved someone enough to have a child with them, but they had walked out.

How could anyone do that to Wonwoo?

Mingyu feels like a gormless and clingy puppy. He trails after Wonwoo as the omega goes to his desk to pack up his belongings. Falls into step beside Wonwoo as they exit through the school doors and head to the parking lot.

Mingyu waits until Wonwoo’s car has pulled out of the parking lot before leaving himself. 

Chaeyoung returns home for reading break. The Kim family all take a trip down to the hot springs for a week. Mingyu had been looking forward to spending time with his family for months, but now that he is actually here, all he wants to do is return to the city. See Wonwoo again. 

As soon as Mingyu is back in the city, he visits Wonwoo again. A lot of people won’t date single parents, but Wonwoo having a kid changes nothing for him. The years they spent apart have not diminished his feelings for Wonwoo. Mingyu still pines, still wants to provide—not just for Wonwoo, but Jeongyeon as well. He just has to figure out whether or not Wonwoo is interested in dating someone. More specifically: whether or not Wonwoo might be interested in dating him.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo is struggling to figure out how to break the news to Mingyu. He wonders if he should bring it up at all. It’s a huge secret—perhaps even more so than the clandestine affair between student and teacher. It’s a secret that can destroy the budding friendship that is starting to bloom between him and Mingyu. Mingyu will feel betrayed, lied to, Wonwoo knows. He doesn’t know if he can withstand losing Mingyu a second time.

It weighs on him, every time they meet. Almost to the point where he feels sick when he sees Mingyu smiling at him, sweet and tender. To make matters worse, Jeongyeon, normally a shy and quiet child, has imprinted on Mingyu like a duckling. It’s as if she knows Mingyu is her father. It hurts Wonwoo’s heart, to look at the two of them playing: Mingyu sitting hunched in a too-small plastic chair, daintily holding a tiny teacup between his forefinger and thumb; Jeongyeon pouring Mingyu tea, sharing with him plastic pastries. This could be his, for real, but he’s so scared. 

They’re both falling deeper and deeper for each other, and they both know it. But as quickly as they had crossed the line years ago, they’re more hesitant now. 

It comes to a breaking point when Mingyu invites him for a day out. An afternoon at the art gallery, where the current exhibition features one of Wonwoo’s favourite artists, followed by dinner at a restaurant along the waterfront. This is different from all the other times they’ve spent in each other’s presence. Wonwoo knows this because he had caught a whiff of the nervousness in Mingyu’s scent before it was swiftly buried, and because Mingyu had said, “I was thinking, it might be just you and me.”

So Wonwoo drops Jeongyeon off at Dahyun’s house that day. He showers and spends an hour rifling through his closet before deciding on a simple turtleneck and dark jeans. He works some product into his hair and spritzes on a bit of cologne. He feels embarrassed for trying so hard, until he opens the door to greet Mingyu and is instead made speechless. He is floored by how gorgeous Mingyu looks. A sweater with a deep v-neck, the colour of red wine. Tucked into thigh-hugging navy trousers that make his legs look a mile long.

Now Wonwoo fears he hasn’t tried hard enough. Except Mingyu quells that worry with an awed, “Wow. You look great.”

If Wonwoo had any doubts that their outing was a date, those thoughts are dispelled in the first two minutes: Mingyu opens the passenger door for him. Wonwoo ducks into the car, wanting to tease Mingyu about it, regain some sense of normalcy. Except the old-fashioned gesture has him giddy and tongue-tied like a young omega being taken out on their first date. 

Fast-forward to the tail-end of their date. By the waterfront. Night has fallen. They had had a late dinner in a floating restaurant. They exit the boat, arms brushing. They stroll up the dock, making their way to the main wharf. Beneath Wonwoo’s feet, the wooden planks sway as a gentle tide ebbs and flows. He had two glasses of red wine with his salmon. Not quite enough to get tipsy, but he finds himself listing towards Mingyu, as if he is drunk. He flounders over his own feet, bumps into Mingyu’s side.

Mingyu reaches out to steady him with a hand on his low back. “Careful,” he says. Keeps his hand there.

All this reciprocated flirting and touching. Wonwoo feels like he’s been turned inside-out, his most vulnerable feelings on bright neon display for Mingyu’s eyes.

Victorian street lamps line either side of the wharf, glowing a warm orange that penetrates through the dark. Mingyu steps up to the railing and leans his weight against it. Wonwoo joins him. Together, they gaze out at the dark waters.

“I’m mad,” Mingyu says, except he sounds anything but. His voice sounds like it has been pulled taut, turned rough and brittle.

Wonwoo turns to Mingyu. Mingyu’s profile is thrown in shadow, and yet it still makes Wonwoo ache. He’s so handsome. “What’s wrong? Why are you mad?”

Mingyu doesn’t respond. 

“Mingyu?” Wonwoo tries again.

Quietly, Mingyu says, “If it had been me, I never would have left you and Jeongyeon.”

Ahh, I’m really captivated by this AU of AEV, but I feel like it would need another 30k-40k words to do it justice. I literally came up with this entire scenario so I could have Mingyu say that cheesy-ass line, hah!

CLICK HERE TO READ THE CONTINUATION BY AN ANON 

[akisata-moved]

"in all these millions of years, only the moon has never changed."

aka, louie finally makes a longer post about this. whether or not it's more coherent is... up to interpretation.

most of the time, when i talk about devilman for extended periods of time, i end up circling around to the moon. it always comes up! this is sort of unsurprising given that a discussion about the moon leads into satan's big epiphany at the end of the original devilman— so, it's significance in regards to themes of both the main characters and the overall story has always been something fascinating to me. i wrote a post about this a little while ago, but i wrote it at like 4 in the morning and so it... doesn't make much sense. so here i am, finally putting my thoughts into (semi)coherent writing.

(as a disclaimer, let me just put it out there that i like to analyze without go nagai's intentions necessarily in mind. i don't care if it's not that deep... it always could be!)

the moon as a universal symbol ☽

putting devilman aside for a second, what does the moon represent on a more universal scale? a lot of things. this makes sense, given the fact that symbolically, the moon is the second most important heavenly body— next to, of course, the sun. the two are often used in tandem, as the light of the sun is reflected by the moon. the two are frequently seen as "natural opposites". how many times have you seen "sun and moon" characters? yeah. a lot. thats what i thought.

the moon has strong ties to feelings of love and lovesickness. take the word moonstruck, for example. it carries a common theme of mystery, and other stories use it as a symbol for solitude, loneliness, or serenity. because of the way the moon governs over water and the ebb and flow of the tides, it is also said to symbolize emotions. in astrology, it represents one's emotional state and the way they expresses their vulnerability, and in tarot, the moon is a major arcana card which symbolizes fear, illusion, and the subconscious mind. the moon is also known for its phases; the cycle of the moon is used to represent the natural cycle of life and birth, and some even think it hints to rebirth of the soul through reincarnation.

"great thanks what does that have to do with devilman" well im glad you asked!! while having background information is good, we still need context.

the moon and devilman: on love, devotion, and self sacrifice ☾

the moon is prominent a couple of specific times in the original devilman manga. let's talk about them! obviously, there's not a super ton to analyze here because it's... uh. a silly little manga and not real literature, but regardless. i think it's more about seeing the potential in something anyways.

the sirene arc — beautiful moon!

one of the first times the moon comes into full-focus in the original devilman manga is during the sirene arc, with the moon in the sky being emphasized several times.

sirene's arc is one of the main parts of the original devilman manga that deals with themes of love and devotion. sirene's main motivation is a combination of love, grief, and resentment. the reason she targets akira (and by extension, the makimuras, because he cares about them) is because of the fact that akira merged with amon. she is pissed that amon— whom she was deeply in love (or maybe infatuated?) with— was taken over by akira's consciousness, and thus, taken away from her. it's really easy to look at sirene and only see a demon with a bloodthirsty nature, but in reality it's her love for amon that fuels her desire to get revenge against akira/devilman.

wow thats an ugly picture of sirene.

to continue the themes of love present in sirene's arc, you have kaim. despite sirene's unyielding devotion to amon, kaim shows the same kind of devotion to sirene, giving his own life to give her a shot at victory against devilman. this is the first time we see a demon do something like this, and prior to the fight with sirene, the audience's knowledge of demons is as simple as "they're bloodthirsty creatures who can't love, and who only lust for battle". kaim's behavior here (and honestly sirene's, too) directly contradicts that statement, and the audience is shown that, yes, demons are capable of not only love, but selfless sacrifice as well. this is actually kind of touched on in crybaby more than it is in the original manga (though i don't think it was handled very well). this motivation of love is what makes sirene and kaim a somewhat sympathetic pair of characters, despite sirene's relentless fight against devilman. i mean, even go nagai talked about how much he cried over the sirene arc in gekiman...

...but there's another character whose undying devotion starts to show in this arc, too.

that's right! our favorite neighborhood ryo!!

ryo's role in the sirene fight is relatively small but impossible to overlook. it's thanks to ryo that sirene dropped akira, and he was given the chance to transform into devilman. this all came at the cost of him getting fucking owned by sirene, though; a sacrifice he was more than willing to make in order to give akira the opportunity to strike— and more importantly, the opportunity to survive. ryo's actions actually mimic kaim's here, as they both commit some form of self-sacrifice in order to give the one they love an opportunity for victory!

all the while, this whole arc and chapter were led into using strong visuals of the moon. sirene's appearance immediately follows several shots of the moon, and the last thing seen before ryo appears is a shot of sirene carrying akira off, the moon shining bright above the two.

this whole chapter makes it easy to connect the ideas of romantic love and faithfulness to the image of the moon, especially in regards to sirene and amon, kaim and sirene, and, most importantly, ryo and akira. honestly ryokira is the most important dynamic here (sirene/amon and kaim/sirene are mostly used to more thoroughly explain the point and like, drive it home further), and we'll get to that in a second.

the eader arc — ryo's solo hunt

now this one is a lot less obvious and a lot more speculative, but given its importance to ryo's arc i feel like it's important to bring up nonetheless. after the death of sirene and kaim, these themes and ideas of love and devotion (how many times can i use that phrase in one analysis post) shift focus fully to ryo and akira. the next time we see the moon emphasized in the original manga, its during the eader arc.

oh yes bad quality manga scans <3 for some unknown reason they cut this bit out of the classic collection so i cant badly scan my own pages with my phone. boooo!!!!!!

this little mini-arc of ryo's is the second time we see the moon highlighted (and the first time we get foreshadowing of ryo being satan)! i hate that this arc was cut out of the classic collection. it actually enrages me a LOT. not only because of the loss of satan foreshadowing, but because it also cuts out the page where ryokira talk about "becoming demon hunters", and i could be wrong but i'm pretty sure thats the first time/most important time they use that phrasing. that discussion (and the confrontation with eader) truly highlights how they do usually function as a team and not just as akira doing all the dirty work. but i digress.

the moon appears by itself in 6 panels in ryo's confrontation with eader, and we don't have much context for this moment itself, besides that ryo went out to go demon hunting on his own and that he... nearly dies.

wow i ran out of image slots on here so i had to combine these two pictures. geez

this mini-arc of ryo's ties back into the previous themes of love and self-sacrifice from the sirene arc, complete with the appearance of the moon and everything. ryo knows that akira is getting more and more violent and susceptible to demonic impulses, and he knows that this puts akira in more danger than ever. the reason he understands akira's craving for violence (very well) is because he's witnessing this shift in his character first-hand. he also knows the reason why he went out and didn't inform akira— it was so he could protect him and keep him out of harms way, despite putting his own wellbeing, and honestly, his whole life at risk. even though akira is a more capable fighter than him, ryo doesn't want his life to be in any more danger.

obviously, this kind of thought process in ryo— wanting to protect him at all costs— is not necessarily new news for devilman fans. in fact, that's sort of the main point of the thing... and it's certainly more apparent in scenes where it's laid directly out for us, such as the scenes in ryo's apartment later on. but what sticks out to me is that in this scene + the sirene scene, there is an actual element of putting himself in harms way to protect/assist akira. there's a deliberate form of self-sacrifice here.

at the end of the world... — apocalyptic love confessions

and, of course, the part of the manga that got the little gears in my brain moving in the first place! this is arguably the most important time that the moon is brought into full-focus, and the most important time that the moon can be seen as a symbol of ryo's love for akira. and... honestly? akira's love for ryo, too.

akira's last words in the manga— and last words... in general... uhm...— are about the moon. of course, being chopped in half won't let you die slowly, so ryo (presumably) finishes his thought for him.

many, many posts about this have been written, but even without the idea of the moon representing devotion and love, it's easy to interpret this as a love confession, from either (or both) of them. all of this just drives the point home even harder. especially in regards to akira, in my opinion. at the end of the day, when the war was over, akira’s last words weren’t about how much he hated satan or how much he wanted to kill him. they were about the moon. (and then there's akira's odi et amo moment in devilman lady, but we don't have time to get into all of that.)

this also connects back to the moon's appearance as a symbol of self-sacrifice, and in this moment, a symbol of the final culmination of all that these two have done in that regard. this is the end result of akira's sacrifice for ryo (giving up his humanity and becoming devilman for him), and ryo's sacrifices for akira as well (besides the things mentioned earlier on in the post, this i feel like represents it at a wider scale: making akira a devilman in the first place is what sabotaged his apocalypse plans in the long run— he put all his plans at stake just to give akira a chance at survival, and it ended up with both of them alone at the end of the world.)

something else of note is the way ryo says, "only the moon has never changed". by interpreting the moon as a symbol for ryokira's love, this line shows that despite everything, ryo has always loved akira. no matter what, despite akira's violent changes and the fact that he eventually succumbed the amon's influence over his consciousness, ryo loved him through it all.

also, as another note, these screenshots were taken from the classic collection, which was the published (and only official iirc?) translation. go nagai has a funny little habit of using thought bubbles as both "whispers"/quiet speech and thought. in the original/fan translation online, you'll see that akira's "the moon..." line was in a thought bubble and not a speech bubble!

now this is just speculation, and a bit divergent from the main point, but it is very interesting to me how the translators/publishers thought that this line (+ a few subsequent ryo lines) was important enough to change to a speech bubble for clarity. it's not like satan's "beautiful" comment wouldve been completely impossible to interpret had the thought bubble remained... so... i dont know man... i just think thats inch resting... on that note, i'm not entirely sure how much they change throughout the manga, because i... dont have the entirety of the manga memorized, but even a quick flip to other pages (such as when ryo and akira are talking after ryo attached his arm) seems to show that this kind of change isn't too frequent. some of ryo and akira's speech, which one would assume would be clarified in a real speech bubble, isn't. so, you know. take that as you will.

meanwhile in crybaby 🐇

devilman crybaby diverges from the original in about every way possible (aside from keeping some of the basic plot events). this includes satan's monologue near the end... in fact, it's so different that he doesn't even mention regretting anything that he did (besides killing akira). crybaby pulls a line that is... an interesting spin on the moon line, with instead of ryo (and akira) mentioning the moon's beauty and leading into a remorseful speech asking for akira's forgiveness, he makes a comment that "the rabbit is probably dead..." (referring to the rabbit on the moon), before showing a quick flashback to ryo and akira's childhood.

what was most likely supposed to be an interesting callback to ryo and akira's childhood relationship ends up falling short because of the lack of development and substance that their relationship has. the two hardly even act like friends throughout the course of the show, and the most we get about their relationship in childhood before the last few episodes is ryo absently flipping through photo albums without giving the audience context. the audience is given this line about the rabbit in the moon being significant to akira and ryo's friendship... with no context, and then it presents us with context immediately after. the audience is not emotionally connected to this moment.

a way of fixing this could've been by... throwing a scene in that referenced this at any point in time before the climax of the series. ideally, developing ryo and akira's friendship more and making it more believable, but if you dont want to go through all that work, at the very least, put in a scene where ryo and akira are talking at night before things start to get too heavy -> have akira look at the moon and reference the moon rabbit. a moment of genuine connection between the two not only wouldve solidified their relationship just a little bit more, but it also would've made that reference at the end hit a lot harder.

any kind of moon symbolism from the original, however, is essentially... subverted in crybaby, because of the fact that ryo destroyed the moon. he split the moon in half. this is almost interesting considering he does the exact same thing to akira less than 10 seconds later. i would say that, if the moon was to still symbolically represent ryo and akira's love, one could tie it into the idea that any kind of love that they both had was haphazardly destroyed by ryo's carelessness, but i don't think this kind of symbolism necessarily hits as hard when he acts the way he does throughout the whole show, and then proceeds to kill akira with a maniacal grin on his face. that's just me, though.

the rabbit in the moon: additional thoughts🐰

personally, i think that the idea of incorporating the "rabbit in the moon" idea into the original apocalypse scene was a really good concept, and had a lot of potential for connecting even further into the idea of ryo's unconditional love for akira. once again, dmcb just... did not handle it right.

a very common theme i see throughout devilman is the association of akira with rabbits, which (im assuming) comes from a major scene in the ova in which he defends a bunny from masa's gang. i personally love this bit of characterization, and if kept, it can tie in nicely to the use of the 'moon rabbit' idea that crybaby was going for. the symbol of the rabbit could represent akira as he was originally— the kindhearted, gentle boy whom ryo fell in love with. this scene gives us a reason to like akira as a protagnoist, and shows that he truly does have a good heart. his desire to protect things came out of his good nature. there was nothing to gain from protecting the bunnies. he did it because he was a good person who cared, and who wanted to stand up for things that couldn’t stand up for themselves, even at the risk of his own safety and well-being. (this eventually transforms into some sort of savior complex and need to protect rather than a desire to protect, but that.... can be a whole separate post.)

this, in addition to working in references to ryo and akira's childhood together throughout the story (as stated above) could come full circle in a ryo who says something along the lines of, “the moon has never changed. the rabbit is still there, too…”, which would hit much harder when you realize that he's not only referring to the shape of the moon's craters, but akira as well. not only does he love him through everything, but he knows that deep down, akira is still good and that his kindhearted akira is still there somewhere, even though they both went through the end of the world. 🌙

[ayyyez]

First time headcanons for Itachi, Shisui and Madara w their s/o please😍😍

a/n: sure thing bby! kept it neutral for everyone. Ahhh I loved writing these! warnings: sexual content - foreplay, kissing, grinding, dry humping, first time having sex (under the cut)

Itachi Uchiha 

He take things very slow and gentle his first time. This mans resolve and patience is intense. Like the carnal instincts inside him make him want to just take you right then and there but this man loves you and wants to cherish you.

Starts with featherlight touches, chaste kisses, little gasps for air. Runs his hands gently along your thighs. Almost tickles you but it’s just so gentle. Enough to get anyone choked up lol

Really drags out the foreplay. Keeps his touch super light and super slow. If he is entering you he will tease you so much. featherlight motions over your sensitive areas. My fellow clit owners, this man knows how to tease that sensitive nub to get you shivering before he even enters one finger inside you. It’s almost torture he doesn’t add more pressure.

Other wise, if you have a dick his grip is so loose around it while his finger lightly circles your hole. 

If you are entering him, he will insist on giving you a blowjob first because he is just good like that. Like I said he really drags out the foreplay lmao

This man will take his time even if you beg. He will insist he doesn’t want to hurt you/wants you to feel good/that you two should take your time.

Wants to cherish the moment okay? Can’t argue with that! If he enters you he will do it so slowly. Like you will end up squeezing him so hard because it’s so slow. 

Keeps a fairly slow pace most of the time. Doesn’t want to rush despite internally wanting too. His stroke game is so strong though. He is slow but boy is he precise. 

Gentle kisses throughout the whole time. Soft moans each time he thrusts deep inside you. Tries so hard to come with you together but it won’t necessarily go as plan. Will try and at least make you cum first, usually pretty successful too. 

He shakes when he cums. It is so intense, especially because it was such a slow build up. Likes to be touching you after, whether its a half spoon or one of you is half on top of the other he just needs the intimacy while he comes down from his high. 

Shisui Uchiha

This man is so over eager he shakes with anticipation. He isn’t overly nervous it’s more just his body reacting to the whole situation. Likes to start with a heated makeout session. 

There’s so much grinding and dry humping before you even get to the naked touching. It’s so hot he is torn between tearing your clothes off and cumming from this friction. 

Ultimately, if you agree to have sex with him, he will be ripping the clothes off. Lips pressed against yours the whole time, only breaking to move articles of clothing out of the way. 

Then there is more making out and cupping/rubbing each other through each others underwear. He moans so much too he is living for how good the friction feels. 

Will blush when you finally see his erection but he also has a dopey smile because he is so freakin happy you too are taking such a big step. Holds out a hand to beckon you to join him. 

Gives you a chaste kiss and some words of affirmation while you two prepare each other at the same time. It’s more silent in terms of speaking than it was before. There’s gasps and moans as you to rub/penetrate/stroke each other in preparation. 

He is very sensitive and ready to hop to it ASAP! Takes the entering/being entered stage slow. Once everyone is adjusted though he is ready to move those hips!

Takes a few thrusts to get a momentum but then he is right into it. Fast and hard and oh wow he may explode already because it is so good. He is moaning a lot! He is panting already. 

Opp and it’s not long before he is cumming. If you don’t cum, he will make you as soon as he recovers. 

Honestly could go for more than one round because now he his energised lol. Afterwards though he is a big smoocher and wants a cuddle, even if its in the shower he will stick by your side for the rest of the day/night. 

Madara Uchiha

Ahhh this mans just so full of passion and it’s no different for his first time. This man would only be doing this with the love of his life because he is hands down a lover. It is a very emotional time for both of you.

Things between you would have built up for so long that the tension just explodes and you have a heated moment which leads to having sex for the first time. 

It starts with kissing. The kind of kissing that doesn’t stop. It’s like he is starved of oxygen and you are his air. He needs to kiss you to live and that is exactly what he does.

It’s a battle between you two really. Not for dominance but to get as close as possible to each other. It’s ebb and flow. He pushes against you and you push against him. It’s two people melting into one. 

And the way he holds you - it’s like he never ever wants to let go (spoiler he doesn’t) He can be quite talkative too. Depending on you of course. He is always down for a bit of banter and this is the best banter. pre sex banter lmao 

A bit of a tease during the foreplay but not too much because this man is eager to get to the main event. (also tease him back he loves it) Honestly just dominate this man and take him for the ride of his life for his first time he won’t ever forget it. 

He will have his moments. The first time for Madara is intense and passionate. There’s so much kissing, touching and hard thrusting. A lot of longing looks into your eyes and ahhh the way he looks at you. You are the most important person in the world. 

Afterwards will want to be pressed against you. Won’t say no to bathing together either. Will still be pressed against you. After the first time with Madara he is clingy because he is suddenly overcome with the thought of losing you and he can’t stand that idea.

[celticcrossanon]

CC, I just reread your reading on the last hours of Prince Philip and wow, do I tear up again. Please excuse me as I will be rather sentimental here...

I remembered my cards said that this month will be a rather stormy season of HM's grief. They say grief a season in your life, one that never goes away; sometimes it is like sailing on a calm sea, some other times it is like sailing against all odds and the fiercest of tides. I cannot imagine how she must had feel when she went into bed that night as a widow. I...I really just can't imagine, how do you live without someone for the first time in seven decades? Not one month, not one year, not ten years, seventy plus years. How do you live and carry on without someone that is very staunch and has been the only thing unchanging in your life for seventy plus years?

It has been three, almost four months since his death and the way HM looked so frail, the way she bowed so deeply at his funeral still flashes in my mind at times. I just cannot get it out of my mind. My gosh, my heart breaks for her. Have you seen the comparison picture of the Queen and the Duke sitting together at Harry and Meghan's marriage and when she sat alone at his funeral? It still breaks my heart.

Oh wow, do I tear up again. Excuse me as I go fetch myself some Kleenex. Thank you for indulging me.

Hi G,

Grief is hard. I have lost both my parents and quite a few other relatives, so I am familiar with the process. It does ebb and flow. All you can do is ride out the waves while carrying on as best as you can.

HM at the funeral reminded me of my mother when my father died, my aunts when my uncles died, my second mother when her husband died - they all had that same fragile look. It is hard enough to go through that grief in private; it must be doubly or triply hard when your mourning is done in public.

My experience is that there is a kind of shock, a numbness that gets you through the first few weeks. Then comes the realisation that the person is no longer around, and the hard process of adjusting to life without them. It is the little things that get to most people - the book you were reading together and never finished, the flowers you planted that they will never see bloom, the jokes you turn around to share only to realise that no one is there any more. You cry, you feel the pain again, and then you go on. HM is fortunate to have a loving family around her who will go to duties with her, as that will help somewhat. Friends can also help, simply by showing that they care. The first year is the hardest - all the firsts without them - and after that it gets a tiny bit easier for most people, although some find that it hits hardest in the second or even the third year after the death.

You carry on because you must. You eat and breathe and sleep (or not) because you have to, and gradually, over time, it becomes easier. You smile again, and find joy in things again. Life is never the same, of course, but it is not necessarily better or worse - just different.

I have seen the comparison picture. It is heartbreaking.

It sounds to me like you might be mourning Prince Philip as well. Please cry and remember and write it out and do what you have to so you are taking care of yourself. That is all part of the grieving process. It will get easier over time, but there will always be days when the loss bites deep. Be gentle with yourself and let time heal you, as t will.

If anyone is worried about HMTQ this month, prayers for her and sending loving and supportive energy will help. They helped me when I had my time off, so they will definitely help her. I could feel the difference the prayers and energy made, and I am sure HM will as well.

[lululawrence]

hiii again! it’s your ace anon. first of all, I wanted to ask how should I call you? is it Lulu? or something else? second of all, English is my second language and I’m really bad at explaining stuff, so I’m sorry in advance and hope you can understand whatever I say. and I guess I first wanted to ask the question that’s been bothering me for a couple of months now. what exactly is sexual attraction? and how do you know if you feel it or not? like I understand romantic feelings, when you look at a person and your heart skips a bit and you wanna like hold their hand, cuddle or just be near that person and stuff. but do people actually look at someone and feel the desire to have sex with them, is that what sexual attraction is? I mean I see people saying all the nasty things they wanna do to their favourite celebrities and I never understood that? people actually can get horny from just looking at someone’s picture/seeing someone’s face? I think that’s it for now, but I have some more questions for later🙈

hello!! welcome back hehe you can call me lulu or sus, whichever you like :D and your english is wonderful, don't worry!

okay so sexual attraction, let's go! let's start with basics.

there's actually a really great article i just found that breaks down a LOT of details, so i'm gonna use several of their breakdowns just because they do a really great job of defining not only sexual attraction but other forms of attraction and then help explain the difference between libido, sexual desire, and sexual attraction. i'm going to define all of these for you, because the terms are not only important, but i used to think i actually experienced sexual attraction for a long time, but as i had to try to explain what i felt to my husband and he would ask me questions delving more into my attraction to women and men etc, i learned i actually do not feel sexual attraction at all. i was confusing it with other things. so, let's start with defining the terms so that we can talk a little bit more about your other questions. These are basically copy and pasted from the article I linked above, so all credit and thanks to them!

Sexual attraction is about finding a specific person sexually appealing and wanting to have sex with them.

Romantic attraction is desiring a romantic relationship with someone.

Aesthetic attraction is being attracted to someone based on how they look.

Sensual or physical attraction is wanting to touch, hold, or cuddle someone.

Platonic attraction is wanting to be friends with someone.

Emotional attraction is wanting an emotional connection with someone.

See, I myself feel all of the above attractions... but not sexual attraction. I used to think that the sensual, physical, and aesthetic attraction I felt WAS sexual attraction. Only later did I realize... it is very different.

Okay, just a few more definitions before jumping into your other questions (these are once again copy and pasted from the article I linked above, bless them):

Libido. Also known as your sex drive, this is about wanting to have sex and experience sexual pleasure and sexual release. For some people, it’s a little like wanting to scratch an itch.

Sexual desire. This is the desire to have sex, whether it’s for pleasure, a personal connection, conception, or something else.

The difference is subtle, and again, I used to lump these two together with sexual attraction, because I thought it was all just one big thing and therefore thought if I experienced sexual desire and had a libido, that OBVIOUSLY I experienced sexual attraction. It isn't quite that simple, but having these definitions that I had to work YEARS to understand myself laid out so nicely in this article was wonderful, so I hope it's helpful for you in understanding and pinpointing the different attractions and different feelings and desires involved in sex.

Okay, and NOW to your actual questions.

how do you know if you feel [sexual attraction] or not?

Well... that's really up to you. I'm hoping those definitions I shared above help you with some introspection and really detailing and defining some of the feelings you have. Like I said, I used to think I did feel sexual attraction, and it was only through years of detailing my feelings and attraction and desire to my husband that I learned wow. Finding someone as aesthetically pleasing and sexy is DIFFERENT from wanting to have sex with them. And that's also why I still define myself as gray ace and ace flux... I do find some people to be sexually arousing despite never wanting to actually do anything sexual with them... but it is just not a very common thing, and for me at least those feelings very much ebb and flow. It's a very individual thing, I think, and there's not really a right or wrong answer to it, but I do hope the definitions and hearing about my own experiences help you figure it out for yourself, or at least begin to!

do people actually look at someone and feel the desire to have sex with them, is that what sexual attraction is? I mean I see people saying all the nasty things they wanna do to their favourite celebrities and I never understood that? people actually can get horny from just looking at someone’s picture/seeing someone’s face?

So... short answer, is yes. Allosexual people (those who are not on the asexual spectrum) can look at someone, or hear their voice or whatever, and they can feel the desire to have sex with that person. The people you've seen make comments detailing all the things they want to do with their favorite celebrity or whatever? They really might have felt that way about someone they're looking at.

As for what specifically can turn someone on and be sexually attractive? That defo differs from person to person. Like, to make it super basic, I think about all my guy friends in college who used to say if they were ass or tit men, because those were the physical aspects that they were most sexually attracted to. So... yeah, a photo could be all they need to get turned on, but it could be because they see the person's face and they know what the rest of their body looks like, and just the face reminds them and it goes from there. It could be that it's meant to be a sexually charged photo. Or, maybe, they just have something particular they're sexually attracted to and the photo happens to highlight it. I'm not here to judge, I honestly barely understand hahaha

Also, just a note! Some ace people DO feel sexual attraction! This is where gray ace comes into play. Gray asexuals include demisexual, ace spike, and ace flux amongst other identities that just... don't really fit in any of the other definitions and identities on the ace spectrum at the moment. If you have more questions about these, let me know and I can talk about that more, but that's not really the core of this ask, so I'll leave it there for now.

I think I hit on everything, please let me know if I forgot something or there is anything more you'd like me to expound upon. I hope this helps!

[novantinuum]

Tides of Renewal (SU one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (Mild TW for vague allusions to past suicidal thoughts.)

Words: 2500~

Summary: Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

Hi folks! This is actually my two-months-late “Happy Birthday, Steven” fic, ahah- amusingly, posted two months late to the day. I’m quite happy with how this short turned out.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Tides of Renewal

Steven rises alongside the sun, but not by choice.

As he abruptly stirs, jerking onto his side under his tangled blanket, he soon realizes that he has little lingering memory of the nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Nevertheless, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s hanging in his throat. There’s feelings, faint impressions— someone’s blood (his, or hers?), Connie’s screams, a bubble of terror boiling from within— but that’s all he’s left with. The young man clutches at his sheets, struggling to catch his breath as is the norm most mornings. Dim light sneaks in between the edges of the curtains, offering a rough estimate of the time.

Once it’s clear his chances of sleeping in have become null and void, he entices himself out of bed with the promise of buying himself a muffin at the local coffee shop later today, a birthday treat. His routine is sluggish, but precise. He uses the bathroom, throws on his swim trunks and a thin cotton shirt, downs the pills he forgot to take last night with a quick swig of water, carefully runs his fingers through his long curls to work out the tangles, and slips his feet into the flip flops he always leaves lying right at the foot of his bed.

The young adult only takes his guitar, phone, and keys with him as he walks the mile distance from his humble studio apartment to the public beach. Around him, the world is at peace. The only sound intermingling with the gentle ebb and flow of the Pacific at this hour of the morning is the chattering of puffins that nest on the large rock outcroppings in the tide pools nearby. The edge of his lip quirks up when he finally crosses that sacred boundary— the sidewalk meeting the shore— and removes his sandals, reveling in the satisfying, grainy texture of sand squishing between his toes. Hah... the beach. Funny, that. All his traveling these past years, from mountains, to prairies, to sprawling suburbs to wooded forest towns, and it only succeeded in deepening his childhood love for the familiarity of saltwater air and tourist-filled boardwalks. Still, the secluded, rustic charm of Haystack Cove is a far cry from the Beach City he grew up in. Different people, different sights, different types of seafood sold at the markets. This place feels like a home all his own, appropriately distant from the Gem influenced settlement he’d left behind.

He crosses the fine grained sands towards his favorite sitting spot, a hefty stone jutting out from the ground, its surface buffed to a glossy finish over the years by the high tides. The water’s still distant this early in the morning, glimmers of sunlight sparkling off of the foam and spray. Yawning, he plops himself down on the stone and lifts his guitar into his lap. He strums a few random chords as a warm-up before settling into an experimental melodic sequence.

As he plays, the early morning breeze teases at the ends of his shoulder-length hair, untied and let free in all its curly splendor. It’s still quite chilly, but with the sun peaking over the horizon behind him and not a cloud in sight, the air’s bound to heat up in no time. Steven inhales deeply, soaking in the salt and light and pushing away the shadows lurking at the periphery of his mind, that twitching, exhausting anxiety that never quite seems to leave him alone these days. Unfortunately, functional does not mean carefree. While far fewer in number then when he was a teen, he still runs into plenty of moments where he’s struck blind by particularly painful reminders of his past, his gem snapping into overdrive in an instant. He’s a bit better at coping in these moments now, and walking himself down from panic attacks, but deep-rooted traumas don’t simply melt away. With that in mind, at this point he suspects he’ll likely have to deal with a mixture of therapy and meds for the rest of his life. That’s fine, though. If that’s what it takes to be at peace. He’s thankfully reached a point in his recovery where he’s more than willing to work for it.

Startling him out of his roaming thoughts, his phone chimes to life, touting the same cheery ring tone he had as a kid. He gently sets his guitar down in the sand and fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, a silent bet as to who’s calling rising within his mind. Sure enough, his dad’s contact photo proudly greets him. Hah— he called it. Steven stifles a giggle as he hits accept and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hey, Schtu-ball!” his father chimes from the other side of the country, three hours ahead. He hears a faint shuffle over the line, and then the beginnings of guitar accompaniment as the man begins to sing:

“Happy birthday to you~!”

Dad ends the line with a resounding vibrato, and a few extra jazzy chords for good measure.

“Heh heh, thanks,” he says, bashfully blushing at the attention, and gazing across the loose sands as if ensuring the secret of his birth hasn’t swelled into a nauseatingly public affair like half of his birthdays had since the start of Era 3. “Gotta say, the impromptu guitar solo pushed that to a whole new level. You just get up?”

“Yep! Bright and early. Garnet said you’d probably be awake by now, so I figured I’d call and give ya’ a good greeting to start the day. Lemme guess, you’re down there at the beach already? I think I heard waves.”

Steven’s glance lifts to admire the slowly rising tides, and the promise of each tomorrow that lies beyond. “Hah, you know me,” he says softly, taking a deep lungful of that precious salt-touched air he’s always adored. “I live for the water. Might force myself to go for a swim later before all of you come. Not sure yet,” he says, shrugging as he turns and squints in the wake of the steadily rising sun. “But my therapist said I should probably keep as active as po—“

“It’s your birthday. You do whatever makes you happy, bud,” his dad promptly reminds him, slight concern sticking to his voice. And yes, it’s practically a father’s job to worry, but his chest tightens with lingering guilt for pressing that upon him anyways. Ugh, this is because he said ‘force myself,’ isn’t it?

“Doing my best to,” he lamely offers, hoping it’ll at least end that segment of conversation. He twirls a stray strand of hair around his finger as he scours his memory for something new to offer. Thankfully, his mind quickly lands on the exciting email he received last night. He grins, knowing for sure his dad’ll love this. “Oh, uh- topic change, but I got that last job I applied for, by the way.”

“Oh? The taffy shop one?”

“Yeah! I start on Tuesday.”

“Wow, that’s- that’s awesome! They responded fast, then.”

“Yup,” Steven nods, popping the ‘p.’ “Honestly, it’s nothing much, just stocking and working the register, but it’ll give me some cash to work with.”

Some cash to finally pay for his own food instead of continuously bumming money off his dad. There’s no way he can handle full month’s rent on his own with this minimum wage job, (who on Earth could in this economy), but it might be enough to cover the smaller things. Groceries, electricity, internet. That sorta stuff. Fidgeting on the edge of the stone outcropping, his bare toes dig narrow lines in the sand. He hasn’t really had this discussion with Dad yet, but the mere concept of being wholly reliant on other people steers his mind uncomfortably close to the I’m a Burden Zone. He’d far prefer to feel like he has a stake in the game.

“I know you said you don’t mind supporting me,” he continues in a hesitant tone, twirling his finger through one of his curls, “but I still feel kinda bad—“

“Don’t. I’d rather you not have to stress yourself to the bone about money like I did when I was your age.”

The line shakes for a second. He’s pretty sure he hears the faint clink of a bowl meeting the counter from his dad’s side.

“Dad...?”

“Sorry, bud. Just putting ya’ on speaker. Figured I’d make myself some instant oatmeal,” he says, his voice sounding a bit further away from the microphone. “Goodness, though. Twenty years. That still boggles the mind.”

He gives a soft laugh. “You’re telling me. Could’ve sworn I was twelve just yesterday. And to be honest, it’s... it’s kinda weird sometimes, you know?”

“What is?”

“Being another year older. ‘Cause... well, uh...”

Steven grits his teeth, searching for the most delicate manner in which he can discuss these emotions. The feelings of his past are a really hard topic to dwell on sometimes, even in therapy, and even though he and his dad have long since had scattered discussions about what a poor mental state he was in then, he doesn’t wanna upset him too much.

“There were definitely days I assumed I wouldn’t have a future, or didn’t want one to begin with,” he continues, throat thick. “Back during all the conflict, before Homeworld reformed. And even after that, when I was... you know. And things are better, now, they’re definitely a lot better. But the idea of a ‘future’... even if I’ve got a job, a home, a girlfriend... it’s still weird to think about, I guess.“

There’s a brief silence on the line as this vulnerable admission sinks in.

“Yeah,” Dad replies eventually, clear sorrow in his voice despite how careful he thought he was in phrasing these matters. “I hear ya’.”

With a quick nervous laugh, he scratches at the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing against the thin, wispy strands of hair growing back there. “Geeze, sorry for bringing the mood down so quick. Didn’t even know I had all that on my mind until it spilled right out.”

“No, no! No need for apologies, I’m always here to listen. And in any case, I’m glad you’re in a better place now.”

Steven nods his head to himself in full agreement (momentarily forgetting that his dad isn’t actually here in the flesh to see this response). Sixteen and seventeen really, really weren’t good years for him. And even though he’s put lot of work into himself since then, he can’t help but constantly fear the possibility of relapse. His therapist told him a few sessions ago when he expressed this worry that... relapses into old thinking patterns can be common for people living with C-PSTD, and that it’s important for him to be cognizant of any unusual changes in his patterns and routines so he can quickly intervene with his box of healthy coping tactics, but... geeze. The dark, traumatic destinations his wandering thoughts end up stagnating in when the concept of relapse brushes his mind aren’t fun to acknowledge. It makes him yearn with deafening hunger for a simple switch he could flip, some magic cure-all for his brain that would stop him from having to deal with any of this awful shit in the first place— but of course, cruel universe this can be at times, those don’t exist.

“Speaking of that,” Dad speaks up again after clearing his throat, “how are those new meds treating you? You said last call your doctor was gonna change them, yes?”

“Nah, not change. There’s no need to change types,” he shrugs. “It’s just a dosage shift. And it’s fine, I think. I’ve been on ‘em for a few days, and there’s no problems so far. Brain's been treating me a little better.”

Nightmares aren’t quite as bad.

His energy isn’t totally zapped by noon.

The whirling, panicked trajectory of his thought patterns is a little easier to wrest control of.

All in all, nothing’s perfect, but he certainly feels a good deal more stable than before. Now, if only he can remember to consistently take his meds before he goes to bed like he’s supposed to instead of totally forgetting like he did last night and having to scarf it down when he sees that forsaken capsule in his pill box the next morning. Tsk, tsk.

“That’s real good to hear,” his dad responds to his news.

He flexes his knuckles against his lap, gaze reflexively drifting back towards the welcomed distraction of the tides. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, I, uh...”

“So, party logistics,” he cuts in with an overly cheery tone, changing the topic from his boring mental health crap entirely. “We should probably hash this out now. I know Connie’s planning on dropping around about noon. What’s your guys’ plan? She can probably send Lion to you after she gets here, if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Pearl said there weren’t any convenient warps nearby. Well, there’s one- but apparently it empties out into an active lava tube. And that’s not exactly Dad-friendly.”

“Aww, you mean you’re not filled with the intense desire to dip your hand into molten lava and shlorp it up like it’s soup?” Steven retorts, only barely holding back his laughter as he thinks of this absurd text thread he had going with Connie a few weeks back, wherein she sent him a video of some volcanic flows and told him, verbatim, that 'despite all logic and reason sometimes I can’t help but look at super viscous lava and think... forbidden s o u p, mmmm.’

“Not particularly, no,” his dad says, sounding thoroughly confused. “I’m- why are you laughing? Is this some sort of weird internet thing I’m not familiar with again?”

He wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. “You, ah- you kinda had to be there, sorry. Anyways, yeah. I’ll have Connie send Lion. I’ll text you right before, how’s that?”

“Sounds great! Can’t wait to see ya’, bud. I’m gonna let you go, now, okay? I can talk your ears off later. Go enjoy your morning. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” he says, grinning. “Bye.”

“Buh-bye.”

Once his dad hangs up he sets his phone beside him on the rock and takes a deep, steady breath, trying to capture the full nuance of each diverse scent in the air. He may just be imagining it, but he swears he’s able to pick out the faint scent of taffy intermingling with the ocean saltiness and the hint of cedar from the nearby state forest. In the end though, whether it’s real or not it’s a welcomed reminder of all the possibility the future holds for him.

He’s twenty now. It’s a brand new decade of life. He’s got a new job lined up, a stable and loving relationship, a supportive family, and plenty of courage in facing the shadows of his past. Sure, so maybe he’ll never know with certainty what will happen— maybe he’ll relapse a little, maybe he’ll still have some bad days sprinkled amongst the good ones— but as he watches the tides flow in to greet him, he smiles... and resolves to just take this year as a renewal of his vow to care for himself as best he can.

[meadows-of-light]

Prompts 1700-1799

1700) No one I know shines half as bright as you & the light that you left. It helps me see a way through all the bitterness, a way through who I really want to be. Please tell me you're alright, are you up in the sky? Laughing, smiling, & looking down saying "one day we'll meet in the clouds".

1701) I must have loved you a lot.

1702) I don't understand, I was fine 3 minutes ago & now everything is crashing around me & the walls of my heart are cracking & oh god I wish my veins were too.

1703) The world took something from her, so she took something from the world.

1704) (Name) I do believe in you, I defended you when no one else did. I wanted so badly for you to find love but sometimes love blinds us. (Name) tried to kill me already & (name) died to protect me, that's what true love is. It's sacrifice, it's giving up everything for the people you love.

1705) I haven't recognized myself in a long time.

1706) The first rule of truly living is to do the things you're most afraid of.

1707) I suppose it's a family trait. Everything we love, we turn to ash.

1708) We're not so bad. We're not the monsters that our parents think we are.

1709) Centuries later, each of us is broken. You with your anger & paranoia, me with my fear of abandonment, & poor (name). He dedicates himself to everyone but himself. We are the strongest creatures in the world & yet we are damaged beyond repair. We live without hope, but we will never die. We are the definition of "cursed," always & forever.

1710) They say the passage of time will heal all wounds, but the greater the loss, the deeper the cut & the more difficult the process to become whole again. The pain may fade, but scars serve as a reminder of our suffering & make the bearer all the more resolved never to be wounded again. So as time moves along, we get lost in distractions, act out in frustration, react with aggression, give in to anger, & all the while we plot & plan as we wait to grow stronger, & before we know it, the time passes. We are healed. Ready to begin anew.

1711) Do you know what hurts most about a broken heart? Not being able to remember how you felt before.

1712) This is where the chapter ends but a new one now begins.

1713) Time has come for letting go, the hardest part is when you know all of these years, when we were here are ending, but I'll always remember we have had the time of our lives.

1714) Now the page is turned, the stories we will write, we have had the time of our lives & I will not forget the faces left behind.

1715) It's hard to walk away from the best of days but if it has to end, I'm glad you have been my friend in the time of our lives.

1716) Where the water meets the land, there is shifting in the sand like the tide that ebbs & flows, memories will come & go.

1717) We say goodbye, we hold on tight to these memories that never die.

1718) Life will not break your heart, it will crush it.

1719) She was like a rose, effortlessly beautiful, but extremely dangerous.

1720) You’re going to think that the pain will never end, but it will. But first, you have to let it all in. You can’t fight it. It’s bigger than you. You have to let yourself drown in it. But then eventually you’ll start to swim & every single breath that you fight for will make you stronger. & I promise that you will beat it.

1721) She loved you too much & it was killing her.

1722) I don't abandon the people that I care about.

1723) Lambs fight to survive, lions fight to win.

1724) When you look into your mothers’ eyes, you know that is the purest love you can find on this earth.

1725) I'm not lazy, I’m on energy saving mode.

1726) Loving you is like a walk in the park. Jurassic Park.

1727) Wow. I can see the galaxy in your eyes.

1728) Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.

1729) People scare me. They change their minds so quick. One moment it's "I love you" & "you make me happy" & the next it's "I'm not sure anymore" & "this isn't what I want".

1730) The moon is high tonight; it frames you well.

1731) I wish I could take the pain away.

1732) I didn't mean the things I said.

1733) Did you have another nightmare?

1734) It's breaking my heart to see you like this.

1735) I told you not to get too close to me.

1736) From the day we met, I knew I’d hurt you eventually.

1737) It was inevitable, but I regretted it every step of the way.

1738) I’m mainly sorry that somewhere along the way, I started to care about you.

1739) Do you think I liked hurting you?

1740) I hurt people, it’s all I’m good at.

1741) I did it because I had to, not because I ever wanted to.

1742) If we had never met, it would have saved us both some grief.

1743) I know it hurts, but I’m still glad we had the chance to know each other.

1744) Hurting you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

1745) I didn’t want it to be like this, but I had no control!

1746) I guess I’ve just never been a trustworthy person.

1747) When were you going to tell me about this?

1748) I wanted so badly to think you were different.

1749) I would have done anything for you, but you’ve ruined all of that.

1750) I forgive you, but I’m not going to forget what you did.

1751) I hope you realized what you did was cruel.

1752) If you want to regain my trust, you have to earn it.

1753) Until you can return the time that I wasted on you; I don’t want anything to do with you.

1754) Grief is natural they say, so is death but I don’t want either.

1755) You can break my soul, take my life away, beat me, hurt me, kill me but for the love of God don't touch her/him/them.

1756) They can take everything from me, my hope, my legacy, my life but God help them the day they come for you/her/him/them/my family.

1757) I'm coming for all the monsters that touched him. I'm coming for all the ones who twisted his stars into shadows. They turned him into a nightmare so I'm gonna be theirs.

1758) I was filled with poison.

1759) I want to live without fear, I want to live without fatigue. I want to live beautifully; I want to live forever.

1760) Please treat me with kid gloves, my soul can’t take much more.

1761) Don’t you dare touch a hair from her head.

1762) Even if we don’t talk for days, I’ll always be your best friend.

1763) Friendships can be difficult, but those that survive are magical ones.

1764) You know what? I was wrong, you never really meant anything to me, you’re broken, you’re beyond fixing, you’re not something I want to take the time to handle.

1765) You're a God damn mistake that's all you are.

1766) Does it ever occur to you that I am done talking, that I'm done with reflecting upon my words & action, can’t you just take a fucking hint that I’m done with you? I don’t want anything to do with you anymore.

1767) You were broken to begin with.

1768) I’m leaving. Of course you are, that's all you know how to do.

1769) What happened to their happily ever after? Not all love stories get a happily ever after, sometimes it's just once upon a time.

1770) I haven’t seen (her/him/them) smile in months.

1771) You're really something else, aren't you?

1772) I should have told you a long time ago.

1773) Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.

1774) You know, for a split second, when I found those journals, I actually felt sorry for you.

1775) You were everything to me, you were the most important person in my life & you broke my heart, destroyed my trust & you ruined me.

1776) Take me home please.

1777) I think the thing that terrifies me most is that one day, you'll be the story I'll tell my daughter when she's curled up in bed, wrapped in blankets & heartbreak. When she hasn't eaten anything in days but the voicemails that he left her when she hasn't been able to sleep because the goodbye that broke her shatters her bones all over again every time that she closes her fucking eyes & I'll climb into bed with her & she'll lay her head on my lap as I try to brush him out of her hair & her tears will soak through my shirt. I'll tell her about the boy I met when I was sixteen, who I sat with once, who I fell in love with after two weeks, who saved me, who fucking destroyed me & I'll tell her about how much it hurt. It hurt so badly it almost killed me. It hurt so badly I couldn't breathe & my mother didn't want to leave me alone, so she took me with when she went to pick my brother up from work to make sure I didn't take too many pills. Then I'll tell her about how it got better, how it stopped hurting, how I stopped bleeding. I finally told my mother what you said to me after 8 months. I got out of bed, but I won't tell her that sometimes I still have dreams about you & can hardly breathe the next day or about the pictures of you I have hidden in the attic.

1778) This letter is to you. The you that's had a rough week. The you that seems to be under constant storm clouds. The you that feels invisible. The you that doesn't know how much longer you can hold on. The you that has lost faith. The you that always blames yourself for everything that goes wrong. To you. You are incredible. You make this world a little bit more wonderful. You have so much potential & so many things left to do. You have time. Better things are coming your way, so please hang in there. You can do it.

1779) I'd like to see you try to mess with me now.

1780) You know what? I don't fucking care anymore.

1781) Oh man, you're making me feel feelings again, I haven't felt those in years.

1782) At the end of every road you were good to me.

1783) I never thought I'd have to say this.

1784) It's taken so long to feel okay.

1785) We all have things we hope will never see the light of day. You probably won't like what I have to say any more than what you're holding back. I wish that were true. We'll take it one step at a time & if anything makes you uncomfortable, you tell me, & we stop & when it comes time to open up, I'll go first. Because I don't run & I don't scare easy. Your secrets are my secrets. Your demons my demons & you'll never have to fight them alone. I promise you that.

1786) There's darkness in this world & just because you or I might not be able to see it doesn't mean it isn't there.

1787) If you lay even a finger on her I swear I will make you suffer in ways even your evil mind can't imagine.

1788) (Name), I’m so sorry. I never should’ve brought any of this into your life. I was so selfish. I never met anyone who was just there for me. You let me feel what it is to be loved.

1789) I know you're somewhere out there, somewhere far away. Home is such a lonely place without you.

1790) The longer that people stay, the deeper wound that they behind.

1791) It’s painful to lose the ones you have spent the most time together with.

1792) She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart & a beautiful mind.

1793) I lost her/him, but I had you. I lost them but I had you. I lost our child, but I had you. I wasn't prepared to lose you too.

1794) Having a soft heart in a cruel world is not a weakness, it is courage.

1795) I miss you more than I thought I would.

1796) She never knew how gentle a hand could be until he held her.

1797) With you, I was the savior of life but without you, I'm the bringer of death.

1798) I hope you give yourself all the space & gentleness you need.

1799) No one knows you. They think they do & maybe they might know you a little bit, but they will never know how you're feeling when it's 2am & you're crying your heart out begging for hope. They will never know.