#none of this prolly even makes sense... anyway

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you - ch. 4

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna)

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! booksmart! sheltered! rbf! oc

warnings: 18+ only babes, stalking/possessive themes, profanity, coercion, chokehold, pet names (kitten), gaslighting, manipulation, manhandling, parental abuse (verbal & physical), physical assault (jus a wee bit gruesome), mentions of blood, size kink, begging, hyperventilation/panic attack, lots of toxic 'couple' arguing, sexual assault, psychotic break, downplaying trauma (kinda)

word count/plot: [8.6k] ara catches gojo's attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins...

a/n: hiii a lot of you have prolly been looking forward to this happening so it here it is (this'll make sense after u read it) but basically shii goes down (when does it not). Anyway there were multiple times where I personally wanted to throw a boulder at Gojo bc he pisses me off LMAO and yet I still write him the way I do (smh). Anyway ik this chapter is short compared to the others so don't b upset :,) hopefully the next chapter (whenever I finish writing it) is longer. enjoyy..

ch. 1 , ch. 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ] , ch. 3 , chapter 4 , ch. 5 [ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 ]

Everyone knew they were together now. It didn’t even take a day for news to hit the school like wildfire. She hated it—every fucking second of it because people looked at her so much more now. Not only boys but girls.

She hated the way girls looked at her. As if she were so fucking lucky whenever Gojo walked beside her in the halls. Then there were the other girls-like half of the cheerleading squad-who eyed her like she was a dead rat walking.

She supposed she couldn’t blame them-they we’re all Karina’s lackeys in a sense. And Karina was delusionally infatuated with Gojo in every sense of the word-and, unfortunately for her, everyone knew it.

Everyone also knew that Karina was a bitch. Ara had expected some sort of reaction from her but-to her surprise (and great relief)-the other girl didn’t even look at her. Even when her girlfriends were around and would purposely give her the stankest looks known to mankind whenever she passed-Karina never spared her glance.

And Ara wanted to know why.

Ara didn’t know much about her and Gojo’s relationship, other than it had been more of a friends with benefits thing. But from what Millie told her eons ago-she faintly remembered it being an on and off thing that lasted a while.

She technically could ask Millie for more details, but she knew it would get back to Gojo and the last thing she wanted was him knowing that she was snooping around in his past. It would bother her for two reasons. One, it was sure to bring him an uncanny amount of joy that she was even curious and secondly, she wasn’t doing it because she was ‘jealous’ or whatever he would think.

She was doing it to see how he treated her. Shoko had said that Gojo didn’t date before her but she had no idea how he’d treated girls in the past-if it was anything like how he treated her then maybe.. maybe they could help each other. 

She knew it was a big reach—a risk even. It meant disregarding the rumors of Karina being obsessed with him, but Ara took rumors with a grain of salt anyway. Besides, if there was anything she knew about Gojo, she knew he could manipulate anything. He could manipulate a rock if he wanted to.

Ara just needed the chance to speak to her alone-to encourage some honesty-and the perfect opportunity presented itself just now.

She closed her gym locker and swung her bag over her shoulder. She turned around-intending to head out the locker room only to freeze when she heard another locker door shut close not too far away.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw it was Karina-none of her other friends with her. Ara slowly scanned the rest of the locker room, it seemed they were the last ones here.

Ara slowly approached her, gripping the strap of her tote bag nervously.

She cleared her throat, “Hi.”

Karina glanced towards her, immediately double-taking when she saw her.

Karina was undoubtedly pretty-it was obvious in every aspect of her. Her posture, her voice, her style. They all wore uniforms but bags were all up to the student's discretion-and she always had the latest designer purse on her shoulder and a fresh face of makeup on every morning.

The girl had recently dyed her hair dark. Ara could only speculate why because her loosely waved, light blonde hair was rather iconic but-after an up-close view, Ara decided she liked the black hair better.

Karina’s brown eyes widened, “H-hi.”

Ara immediately felt a bit better-at not having gotten completely ignored-but quickly gathered herself, “Ah, um-I know this is a bit out of the blue but I.. could you tell me how Gojo was like when he was with you?”

She saw something flash through her eyes, “Did he talk about me?”

“No.”

Katrina blinked, “Did he cheat?”

Ara’s brows furrowed, “No..”

Karina stared at her for a long moment, “You're just asking.. just to ask?”

Ara shifted slightly-trying to get a read on the girl but her poker face was pretty good, “I just-I wanted to know if he..” she had no idea how to phrase herself discreetly, “-he treated you well.”

“Treated me well?” Karina repeated.

Ara suddenly regretted speaking to her. The girl was good at deflecting her questions. She couldn’t pinpoint if she was deferring her questions because she wanted her to bring up his psychotic behavior first or if it was because he hadn’t done anything to her.

She decided her next question would clarify-

“If he let you date him, would you still date him?” 

Karina flushed, her mouth partially opening and closing multiple times-as if unsure how to answer.

Suddenly the locker room door swung open and both girls glanced over. It was her friends-and they looked just as astonished to see them interacting.

The other girls quickly crowded them, indiscreetly trying to communicate with Karina with their eyes.

Karina fumbled with her words, “Um-how about we talk about this at my spot tonight? Just come to my party.”

She saw one of her cheer friends turn to look at Karina in shock.

Ara hesitated, “Um..”

Karina snapped her fingers, “Your friends with Millie right? She’s invited, just come with her. See you!”

She watched as Karina waved her fingers, dismissing her. Ara paused, before deciding to play into whatever front she was putting up-if it even was a front.

Ara slowly stepped back, “Sure..”

She readjusted her bag over shoulder before heading out the locker room—feeling all the girls' eyes on her back like lasers.

Ara walked out of her last class of the day. The second she stepped out the door, she flinched when she saw Gojo waiting outside with his arms crossed.

She continued walking and he easily stepped into stride with her.

“Araa,” his tone whiny, “You should at least greet me with a kiss or hug.”

“You had both this morning.”

He smirked, “True,”

He threw his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close to nuzzle his face into her cheek, “But that was this morning.”

He kissed her cheek, “You got anythin’ to tell me?”

She tensed slightly, “Like?”

She felt him grin against her cheek, “Like you talked to Karina, and she invited you to her party.”

Fuckin’ hell—she couldn’t keep her mouth shut for one second?

“Why’d you talk to her?” She could hear the undercurrent of amusement in his tone.

“Is there something wrong with me talking to her?” she quickly deflected.

He shrugged, “Not really. You jus forgot to tell her your not goin’-she’s tellin’ everyone you're comin’ to her party.”

“I’m not?”

She felt him glance down at her, “Of course you're not.”

She didn’t dare meet his eyes, “I kinda wanted to go with Millie.”

He dropped his arm from around her shoulder, ‘tsk’-ing her, “That’s not how it works, sweets.”

She finally glanced up at him. They stood outside the school’s main entrance, which was a little ways away from where the buses were parked.

“We go to parties together or no one goes.” He tilted his head, “I have practice late tonight, remember?”

She hadn’t forgotten. She hadn’t forgotten about his little rule regarding parties either-not after he stated it in front of all his friends at Shoko’s party that one night. She never planned to drink again after that.

He ruffled her hair, “I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”

She swallowed—trying to keep her voice as innocent as possible, “I really can’t go with my friend?”

His blue eyes widened imperceptibly. She couldn’t tell if he was shocked by her pushback or by her even expressing a morsel of interest in a party-she hoped it was the latter.

He scanned her face expressionlessly, “That’s correct.” There was no humor in his tone.

She hated the feeling that settled in her gut. It was the same thing she felt whenever she asked her father for things and he’d say no. Except it wouldn’t always ever just be a ‘no’-it would be worse, depending on his mood.

It didn’t matter how simple or burden free the request was. If it wasn’t related to school, he didn’t want to hear it. So she stopped asking. She barely asked him for things-unless it was necessity or school related.

And this, this was no different. She was asking for permission and something about that left an incredibly bitter taste in her mouth.

So much so, she couldn’t keep the lighthearted tone she intended, “It’s just a party.” she bit out.

His crystalline eyes sharpened imperceptibly, “I’m aware.” his tone was oddly light, before taking a step towards her.

She immediately stepped back-her growing fear twisting into anger as she spit, “Can’t you trust Millie to stalk me in your place?”

He took another step towards her, this time his tone crisp, “You’re not going.”

Her response died on her tongue when she saw the buses beginning to depart behind him. Just as she opened her mouth to tell him she had to go, his hand clasped around her throat-forcing her eyes to him.

“Did you hear me?” his tone completely deadpan. He tilted his head, “You’re not going.”

She gasped, staring between his bright eyes before grasping his wrist at her throat, “I-I have to go, the buses are-“

His fingers twitched around her throat-he leaned closer to her, “You’re not going.”

He stared intently into her wide eyes, “Do you understand?”

She swallowed before nodding.

He slowly looked her up and down, “I want to hear you say it.”

Her voice came out shaky, “I-I won’t go…Toru.”

He loved that stupid nickname ever since she said it when she was drunk. She hoped it’d make him let her go, she truly couldn’t miss the bus. 

He was quiet for what felt like a long moment before a slight chuckle escaped him.

He released her neck, “I’ll see you at home, kitten.”

She touched her neck the second he let go. Merely nodding in response before running towards her bus.

She stared at the clothes she laid out on her bed. It was a simple brown zip up hoodie and boyfriend jeans. It wasn’t your typical party attire but she could care less about that. She was only going for information, not for a good time.

She already told Millie that she wasn’t going only so Gojo didn’t find out—since she apparently reported everything little thing to him for no fucking reason. But it didn’t matter, because Millie already sent her Karina’s address earlier.

She’d call a taxi service, that way she could use her spare cash. She couldn’t call an uber because her Dad would see it on her bank statement. God knows how he would react to that.

She glanced at the digital clock on her desk. 8:39 pm.

Gojo didn’t get back from basketball practice till 10 pm. An hour was all she needed. Just in and out of Karina’s place.

Her Dad already thought she was asleep. She’d also stuffed extra clothes underneath her blanket in a human-ish shape to make it look as if she were sleeping there in case he checked.

Everything should be fine. Her hands unclenched and clenched into a fist repeatedly. Everything’s fine.

She couldn’t help but feel nervy. The last time she snuck out by herself was in middle school and her Dad had given her a black eye.

She prayed this was worth it. She couldn’t help but question it-Karina didn’t look like Gojo did anything to her, but how does anyone look like they’ve been assaulted?

She herself had never seen Gojo and Karina talk before so she could only hope that the rumors surrounding Karina being infatuated with him were false. Possibly fabricated by Gojo to keep himself in the clear. Maybe he had something on her to blackmail her with in case she tried to snitch.

She raked a hand through her hair, unease swirling in her gut. She needed to calm down. If her thoughts didn’t slow down she was bound to hyperventilate.

She exhaled shakily. Just wash your face, change and call the driving service.

She opened her eyes and went to the attached bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face and immediately felt better. She patted her face with a towel while walking back into her room.

The towel immediately slipped from her fingers onto the floor.

Gojo stood in her room, his back to her. His hand hovered over her clothes on the bed before shoving them all to the floor. She flinched.

He turned around-revealing the front of his built stature in the black compression t-shirt he wore. His platinum hair was stringy-damp, as if he’d just showered.

The second his diamond blue eyes met hers, fear charged every atom in the air. She stopped breathing.

“Why’d you take these clothes out, Ara?”

She stared at his expressionless face, unable to come up with a single word. The silence felt so loud.

Suddenly, he was laughing-his laugh was nowhere near kind. The room felt colder. She wished he would stop.

He rubbed his chin, “I couldn’t stop thinking of it, y’know. The face you made when I said you couldn’t go-“

He chuckled once more, “I kept thinking about it all practice, but she wouldn’t lie to me—you’d never lie to me, right Ara?”

She was speechless.

He shook his head, smiling sardonically to himself, “I thought I was goin’ crazy. I told Coach I had to leave for a family emergency—family emergency.”

He was full-on laughing now, maniacally.

She covered her mouth with her hand, “Stop, Gojo, stop-“

“I should stop?” he snapped, completely deadpan, “You fuckin’ lied to me.”

He took a step towards her and her hand immediately flew up between them.

“Don’t come near me.” she instinctively demanded.

His eyes lit up, “What’re you gonna do, stop me?”

Her heart rate went up when he took another step towards her. She immediately scurried back.

“It’s just a party.”

“I don’t care.” He didn’t stop moving towards her.

Her fear-stricken mind came up with something-to gaslight him, “Why are you being like this? Is it because of Karina?”

That made him stop-confusion flickering within his eyes.

She immediately continued, “You still care about her don’t you? That’s why you don’t want us to meet.” She slowly moved around the room, keeping her back to the wall as she subtly headed towards her nightstand.

“I don’t give a flying fuck about Karina.” he spit out.

The first drawer of her nightstand had a flashlight, maybe she could use it to hit him.

“Y-you’re lying.”

Suddenly she froze, realizing she was cornered. She couldn’t make it to her nightstand without crossing him.

No. no. no.

He stepped towards her, only an arms length away.

He tilted his head, “I’m not a liar. You are. You lied to me.”

She froze, holding eye contact with him for a moment before darting past him to her bed. She scurried atop it, her fingers clasping around the nightstand drawer handle only for her leg to suddenly get dragged.

She was dragged further onto the bed and flipped over. Just as a scream ripped from her throat, a firm hand cupped her mouth. He was over her, an untamed glint to his azure eyes.

Tears slipped down her cheeks, “You’re crazy. You’re fucking crazy.” she cried quietly into his hand.

His hand over her mouth tightened. His eyes blazing, “I am. For you-I am.”

He pressed his forehead against her temple, forcing her face aside into the bed. His voice ragged, “You make me like this.”

Suddenly the doorknob rattled and he disappeared from atop her.

Her eyes widened as she shot up on the bed. The door swung open a second after Gojo stood behind it-the door keeping him hidden.

Her father stood in the doorway. She didn’t have to look at him too long to know he was mad.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Her hands trembled as she fisted the bedsheets. Her voice wavered, “Baba?”

He walked further into the room, holding up a partly crumpled piece of paper-due to how tightly he was holding it.

“Why the hell did I get an email with this picture?”

He threw the paper at her-making her flinch. She picked up the paper from the bed with shaky hands. The paper was a printout of an email. The email account it was sent from looked like a spam one-with more numbers than letters-but it showcased a big picture of an assignment she got an ‘89’ on.

It was the lowest score she’d ever received in her life and it happened on an assignment she did last week. She thought she had gotten away with it-

“EIGHTY NINE?!!!” her father yelled.

She flinched, immediately crying, “I’m sorry, Baba. I’m sorry. It won’t happen aga-“

“Again? Why would it happen again?!” his voice suddenly rose, “I DIDN'T RAISE YOU TO BE A DUMB LIL BITCH LIKE YOUR MOTHER!!!!”

Suddenly he grabbed her by the hair and pulled his hand back to slap her. She felt the heat of his palm a hair’s breadth away from her cheek.

She squeezed her eyes shut, readying herself for impact only for her father’s hand in her hair to disappear. A loud crash ensued.

She gasped, eyes flashing open to see her Father on the floor. His eyes wide in shock as Gojo stepped over him.

Before her Father could even speak, Gojo sat over him and his hands didn’t stop. Blood splattered across the floor.

“GOJO!!” she screamed, as deafening sounds of brutality ensued. She stumbled up to her feet-her body felt like it was made of jelly with how unbalanced she was.

His hands moved so fast she couldn’t even see them, they were simply a blur of red over her Father’s face. The gruesome sound of bone cracking echoed within the room.

She couldn’t hear her own voice as she screamed, “GOJO, STOP!!!!! STOP-STOP!!!!!!!”

He didn’t stop.

She jumped onto his back-sobbing. Her arms slid around his shoulders, trying to hold him back but he was so strong. Her frail arms did nothing. Instead her small body shook with each lethal blow he unleashed on her Father's beaten body.

“SATORU!! STOP! STOPPPP, GOJO-STOP!” she cried in his ear, gripping his shoulders tight as she screamed- “IF YOU LOVE ME, YOU’LL STOP!!!”

Suddenly, his body went still—eerily still. She felt the muscles in his body tense in her hold. All the forcefulness running rampant within him coming to a complete halt.

She felt him lean into her slightly, his breaths shallow as he looked down. He looked down at her shaky arms around him. He reached up slightly to touch her-his fingers barely skimming her forearm when she wrenched herself away.

His hand was wet.

She stared at her forearm in horror. There was a streak of blood. Her Father’s blood.

She shoved Gojo, too panicked to care. “Get off him! Get off-“

He complied, standing up smoothly with his hands cradled to his chest. They were covered in blood.

She gaped the second she saw her Father. His face was covered with shiny, deep-red blood, the white of his half-open eyes the only other color. His forehead and cheeks swollen with welts. His nose was indistinguishable-a complete bloodied mush that continuously poured more and more red. His jaw hung open at an awkward angle.

She screamed, scrambling off her Father’s body while covering her mouth.

“WHAT DID YOU DO-Wh-what did you.. do..” she broke down-sobbing-before crawling to her Father’s side.

She didn’t care about the blood getting all over her as she hyperventilated. She pushed wildly at her Father’s limp chest—“BABA!! Baba-“ she sobbed, “Baba, wake up. WAKE UP!!”

“He’s not dead.”

She froze. Gojo’s eerily calm voice was the equivalent of dumping a bucket of ice-water over her.

She immediately stood up, facing him. Her gaze didn’t waver as she slowly walked up to him. He was emotionless, his bright blue eyes never leaving her.

She shoved him, he didn’t budge.

“Why did you do that.” she asked, completely deadpan.

He didn’t answer.

She shoved his chest again, “WHY DID YOU DO THAT!”

This time she didn’t stop-her small fists hitting his chest erratically while he stood completely still. Her hits had no coordination, no impact on him. She sobbed through gritted teeth.

“Enough.”

He grabbed her elbows, his fingers digging deep enough to hurt. She flinched, only to yelp and fall to her knees when she saw his hands.

They were drenched in blood-upto his elbows. They dripped at his sides as she hunched over before him, breathing unevenly.

“I’ll handle this.” his voice was faint to her ears.

He dialed a number.

Ara stared outside the wide glass windows. She could see so much of Los Angeles from here. The world looked so big. People looked like tiny dots moving below.

Her gaze flickered to the window's reflection, noticing the nurse leave.

She turned around and faced the vast executive suite. She didn’t even know hospitals had luxe suites. This room was on one of the top floors of the building as well—which made the window-side view all the more daunting.

She walked over to her father’s bedside. His face was covered in bandages as he lay eerily still. He would survive, that was all that mattered-and he’d never have to worry about a single thing.

Gojo made sure of that.

The alibi was that a robber came through her bedroom window and she’d yelled for her Father-who immediately went to her room to deal with the intruder but got beat instead. And Gojo happened to be the young billionaire scion driving by who’d overheard her screams and ran in to help. The robber-conveniently-being gone by the time he got there.

And-of course-Gojo being the kind soul he was, immediately got her father transferred to the most renowned hospital in California. She was pretty sure Kim Kardashian gave birth to one of her children here.

The alibi was well fleshed out but she couldn’t help but question if her father would remember something. Gojo-kindly-reminded her that even if he did remember, it wouldn't make a difference because by the time he woke up the case would be closed. Two uninjured witness statements would be considered more viable than his injury muddled recollection of the incident anyway, if he were to report it—according to Gojo.

She hadn’t even been concerned about her Dad reporting any discrepancy in his memory anyway, but the fact that Gojo brought that up first only made her more aware of how well versed Gojo was in law enforcement proceedings. She didn’t even want to know how or why—All she knew was that his efficiency with this matter revealed how he wasn’t a novice to these kinds of things.

She didn’t want to think about what else he’d gotten swept under the rug.

She stared at her Dad’s limp hand—merely grateful he was alive. The doctors had realigned his jaw and saved as much of his nose as they could. The welts and bruising along his face would go away with time.

There was a chance her Dad’s mobility could get affected by the brain injury that had incurred. The surgery had gone well so the chance of permanent damage was low but if he hadn't gotten the high quality care at the speed he had, his chances would've been very different.

Her Mom still hadn’t answered any of her calls. She supposed that was expected.

She reached out, her fingers shaky as she contemplated holding her father’s hand for a moment.

But image after image of those same hands hurting her flitted through her mind. The impact that single part of his body had on her mental health, confidence and life… It made her want to cry.

She withdrew her hand, blinking rigorously before walking out into the hallway that led into a wide ceiling, hotel-like common room. It was so silent-the only sound being the hum of her father’s patient monitor. Gojo had booked out the entire floor.

She walked towards a set of double doors and pushed them open. Gojo sat in the modernly furnished room, hunched against the couch as he faced the TV-despite it being off. He had enough decency to let her be alone with her Father it seemed.

His blue eyes flickered towards her when she entered. He leaned forward in his seat-posture still slumped as he raked a hand through his platinum hair. They’d been at the hospital all night and this was the first she’d spoken to him since her Father’s operation a few hours ago.

She didn’t even know what to think when she looked at him.

He looked up at her, something in his turquoise eyes seemed to waver, “I’m sorry.”

She froze in her stance, “..What?”

He spoke a bit fast, “I-I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know your Dad was like that-Millie told me he was strict about your grades so I jus thought he’d ground you or some shit-”

She blinked, an undercurrent of agitation in her voice, “What are you talking about?”

“—You never told me. If you told me he was like that..“ he drifted off before shaking his head subtly.

Her brows furrowed, “You would’ve what? What, huh?”

He was silent, his countenance somewhat conflicted.

“Killed him?” she mocked.

His bright eyes met her in an instant, “If you let me, yes.”

She stared at him-completely stupefied. He hadn’t hesitated for a second.

She scowled, “How can you even say that? That’s my father-my father!”

He stood up-a crazed quality to his eyes as he spoke, “You didn’t see your face, Ara. You looked so..“ his eyes drifted off elsewhere, as if envisioning it, “..so scared. And he was jus being so fuckin’ rude to you-I couldn’t jus—I had to—“

She stared at him in complete disbelief-unable to keep the anger from her tone, “You didn’t have to do anything!”

He stepped towards her, “I did it for you. I told you-all of your problems are mine.”

Tears swam in her eyes, “No they aren’t, Gojo! They aren’t.”

“They are,” he insisted.

She stepped back-voice shaky, “I would never want you to kill my father.”

“You’ve thought about it though, haven’t you? Even in passing-you’ve had to, at least once-“

“No,” she whispered.

“How much easier life would be if he was just dead.”

“NO!” her shaky hands were fists at her sides.

He laughed dryly, plopping back down onto the couch, “It’s okay, Ara. It’s okay to think those things...”

He lay his head back on the couch's headrest, “I already told you, there’s no line I won’t cross. Jus say the word and he won’t be an issue again.”

Her eyes widened in horror.

He lifted his head to peek at her before sighing, ”Oh, c’mon. Don’t look at me like that. You want him gone. Admit it.”

“I don’t.” she gritted out.

“I know you.”

“You don’t know shit.”

Suddenly he was out of his seat, walking towards her. He was so fast she barely had time to move backwards. Her back hit the wall and she gasped–fear rendering her frozen when she realized she was cornered.

His hand slipped around her throat as he spoke-his voice barely above a whisper, “I do know you, Ara. I’m the only one who knows you.”

She felt tears touch her eyes. Her throat tightened underneath his fingers, swallowing down the low sob that threatened to spill past her lips. 

His thumb caressed her racing pulse before slowly lowering his hand. His fingertips skimmed over her collarbones as he rested his palm atop her chest. His hand felt cold against her skin.

His voice was soft, “Why are you protecting him?”

She closed her eyes, inadvertently holding her breath. His palm pressed further into her chest–making her erratic heartbeat pump faster.

“And don’t say cuz he’s your Dad,” he spat, “He still hurt you.”

She flinched.

She felt his hair tickle her forehead. He was closer now. The air felt more weighted.

“Do you love him?” he asked, ever so quietly.

The question felt like a punch to her gut. Did she love him? She didn’t know. She never thought about it before. All she knew was one thing…

Her eyes fluttered open, finally looking at him. He was so close—too close.

“I-I don’t want him to die.” she choked out.

His sky-blue eyes slowly ran down her face, taking in her every feature. His eyes latched onto the tear that slipped out of the corner of her eye.

He cupped her face, “Relax, kitten. I’m not gonna kill him.”

She was trembling so bad, she didn’t know how to stop. He stroked the sides of her face lovingly.

“I know I almost did but I stopped, didn’t I? I stopped.”

She bit her lower lip, trying to contain the urge to cry. He drew her close, pulling her into a hug–trying to quell her trembling.

His hands ran through her hair comfortingly, “I still don’t regret hitting him.”

She was too caught up in her emotions to fully register his words.

He continued stroking her back, “Only thing I regret is sending the email.”

She froze.

He drew her closer against his chest, “I only meant to stall you. I figured you might try—“

She tried to shove herself out of his grasp, “YOU sent that email?!”

His grip around her didn’t budge, “Ara-"

She miraculously managed to slip out of his grasp. 

She shoved him back-simultaneously staggering backwards as she did so, “What the FUCK is wrong with you?”

His eyes never left hers, “I didn’t know your Dad-“

“You think that makes it any better?!” she shouted in disbelief-too angry to think. Her Dad would’ve been completely uninvolved and unharmed if he hadn’t sent that stupid email. “Why do you always have to take things so far?”

His brows furrowed-tone crisp, “Because you don’t listen to me.”

“So?” she spat, “So?”

At his silence, she continued-her voice gradually rising, “Am I not allowed to disagree with you? Am I not allowed to make my own decisions? Am I not a human being?!”

His eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t stop—all of her frustration was pouring out now.

“I’m tired. I’m sick and goddamn tired of people trying to tell me what I can and can’t do and I’m sick of getting hurt everytime. Everyone I know hurts me. Everyone!”

“I don’t hurt you.”

She stared at him before a soft, delirious, laugh slipped past her lips, “Are you kidding?”

He stared at her, expressionless.

“You don’t think you hurt me?” she questioned.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Not in the way your Dad has.”

Her eyes widened, “No, but you do worse! Your always with me-you try to control me a-and y-you touch me-“

His blue eyes flashed with something indescribable, yet his tone remained calm, “You like it when I touch you.”

“No!” she yelled, “No, I don’t. I cry every time we fuck, Gojo-how is that normal?”

The corner of his lip tugged upward, “That’s cuz you're still not used to my size.”

She stared at him in shock-filled contempt, “You're insane.”

He waved his hand in the air, “Normal. Insane. You keep throwing these words around—who gives a shit?”

“I GIVE A SHIT,” she yelled, “I GIVE A SHIT BECAUSE ITS AFFECTING ME!”

Suddenly he was right in front of her-his hands grabbing her throat—forcing her to look up at him.

“Well-maybe-if you wanted something normal so damn bad you should’ve answered me the first time I talked to you. I would’ve given you flowers, dates—the whole charade. I can still do the same, but it’s not the same now—is it?”

She was too angry to be scared. She stared up at him with so much anger as she spit back, “I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to. Don’t you get it?!”

She grabbed his hands at her throat, “I never wanted you.”

She watched his intricate eyes widen and she swore she saw her life flash before her eyes. But instead his eyes softened—his white lashes fluttering open and close before the crease between his brow deepened.

His fingers around her throat tightened, “You need me.” he whispered, and something about his whisper scared her more than her Father’s yelling ever did.

She fought to keep her voice even, “W-we never should’ve started, Satoru.”

He was frozen, as if stricken. Something in his light blue eyes seemed to fade as his expression darkened, “I don’t believe that.”

She ignored the chill that went down her spine at his words. She grabbed his wrists, attempting to pry his hands off her.

“Believe it.” she spat-channeling all her anger to keep the blaring alarms of fear and crawling paranoia at bay. Her voice was tight with venom as she spoke, “We’re over.”

Suddenly his eyes sharpened-any conflict or barely restrained anger slipping off of his face in an instant. His gaze was so sharp-so magnetic-she felt like he was harming her despite not feeling a thing.

His fingers around her throat were loose and his posture was lax-he was merely standing over her, looking down to face her. Nothing was technically off, but she knew what she felt.

She knew what strength he had stored within every part of his tall frame. How each limb of his body didn’t lack the uncanny amount of solidity he had. She felt it every time she was with him, whenever she spoke a bit too honestly—whenever she dodged his touch—how easily the mood could shift because of her shortcomings. How easily the invisible lines could be crossed.

It was like a mouse in a trap—squealing wildly against its restraints, beady eyes staring helplessly at its captor.

Except her captor didn’t want to kill her.

He tilted his head, “We’re over?”

She was so still, she wasn't sure if she was even breathing. His eyes dropped to his hand at her throat. She wondered if he could feel her flighty pulse.

She fought to keep her voice even, “We’re over.”

Suddenly his lips were on her-kissing her so hard that any breath she’d been holding came rushing back at full speed. She gasped, unable to refuse his lips-his tongue-as he held her by the throat. His hold unrelenting.

Her hands pulled at his wrists to no avail—until his grip loosened. She shoved herself away from him, moving so fast that she fell to the floor—a couple feet away from him.

He watched her breathe shakily before him, on her knees—just the way he liked.

He took a step toward her, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. She didn’t bother looking up at him.

“You need me, Ara-you need me.”

She felt him go on one knee before her and quickly turned her face aside. She couldn’t look at him.

He gently moved her hair out of her face as she trembled.

“I’ll wait for you.” he murmured.

He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger before standing up. He left the room without looking back.

He didn’t come back to the hospital after that. It was radio silence. Not one text. Not one call. Not one single word.

She almost didn’t believe it. It felt too good to be true. It nearly felt like everything went back to the way it was before her rank was announced–except for his lingering stares.

She always felt it-that odd nagging sensation-before letting her eyes follow it. He would confirm her instincts everytime her eyes landed on his unnaturally blue ones. It didn’t matter if he was just passing by on the other side of the hall or if he was gazing past Geto’s locker to watch her walk into homeroom—she always knew when he was looking at her.

At first, it would leave her startled but gradually she chose not to think about it-as long as he stayed away from her, nothing mattered. Even if the whole school thought he mattered—

Everyone noticed it the first day. He didn’t enter the school with her or meet her in between classes to shower her with kisses or obnoxious hugs. By the time last period came around, half of the school had asked her if they had broken up. All she would respond with was, “Stay out of my business.”

She hated every second of dealing with that. Especially when all she could think about was her Dad. If she wasn’t at school, she was at the hospital. She took the bus back and forth until a meek, suit-clad boy near her age approached her and told her that he was assigned as her personal driver. She told him she had no idea what he was talking about. He went on to explain that his service was pre-paid for and handed her his business card. His name is Ijichi Kiyotaka.

There was an emblem on the back of the business card that she later googled—apparently it was the Gojo family symbol. She didn’t think those still existed.

At first she stubbornly took the bus until Ijichi ran up to her at the bus stop when it was raining. He begged her to use him since he was bored out of his mind-his only job was to be at her convenience, even if that meant following her by car in order to be more accessible to her. She was startled at first before deciding to humor his desperate confession due to the bad weather. She never intended to use it again until she realized the private car took less than half of the time the bus did.

She wondered why Gojo felt courteous enough to leave such a thing for her to use—maybe he felt bad or maybe he knew she’d need it since he wouldn’t be around to drive her everywhere. Or maybe this was his way of keeping tabs on her-not that he needed to since her phone glitched every time she tried to turn off ‘location sharing’ with him. Of course, the bastard tampered with her phone.

She wasn’t the least bit surprised. But what had left her shell shocked was when the nurse first took off her father’s bandages. His entire face looked different. His nose reconstructed, subtle dents along his now bald head—it seemed the doctors could only salvage so much.

He didn’t move for a few weeks. The nurse and her took turns propping him up and feeding him meals. It always made her uneasy whenever it was her turn to feed him. Her father had never looked this vulnerable in her life.

Around the third week, he started to talk again. At first it was one word responses, then a string of words and then-after a couple days-full sentences came back to him.

But he was different-different from before. He was.. lighter-as if some type of weight had been lifted. He didn’t remember anything about the incident, and wasn’t the least bit angry when she recounted the details of the ‘alibi’ to him.

He was even kind to the nurses. Offering them smiles when they told him it was a miracle that his speech and mobility were returning at the rate they were. She’d never seen him smile in her whole life.

After several weeks of physical therapy, her father was back on his feet. They went back home after two months at the hospital.

It felt so weird to be back home. She hadn’t been home since the incident. Her father still remained oddly nice. He was still somewhat bed bound due to not being clear to work yet.

She wasn’t used to seeing him home this often, but it wasn’t as much of a nightmare as she thought it would be. In fact, he seemed to look forward to greeting her whenever she came back from school. 

His newfound kindness was so absurd to her she couldn’t believe it. It felt like a front. She almost wondered if her dad had gotten swapped out—especially after he took her hand once and thanked her.

She couldn’t help but stare at him after he said that. The only thing she could say was ‘for what’ and his response was a quiet ‘everything’.

She cried so hard in her room that night.

Two nights later, the peace ended.

The sound of something shattering echoed throughout the house.

Ara awoke with a jolt, her eyes instinctively going to the window before flitting to her bedroom door. It had come from further down the hallway.

She stepped out of her room to see her Father’s office room door left ajar. She slowly walked up to his door before shakily grasping the doorknob.

“Baba?” she asked before opening the door completely.

Her father was on his knees beside his desk. A broken mirror at his feet. His fingers were bloody.

He stood up, his hands out in front of himself, “What did you do to me, Ara?”

She stared at her father, shell-shocked.

His voice was hoarse as he ran his hands over his face, “This isn’t my face. THIS ISN'T MY FACE!”

He began to grab things off his desk and throw them across the room. She ducked.

“THIS ISN'T MY FACE. THIS ISN'T MY FACE. THIS ISN'T MY FACE. THIS ISN'T MY FACE. THIS ISNT MY FUCKING FACE!”

She was crying while holding her arms over her head.

Suddenly her father’s voice came from above her. He grabbed her by the hair, forcing her to look up.

“DO YOU SEE MY FACE? DO YOU SEE IT, ARA?”

She stared at him through tear stained eyes—trembling, “Y-yes.” she whispered.

“DOES IT LOOK LIKE YOUR BABA? HMM?”

She flinched. The slight scars along the sides of his face hadn’t completely healed and the indentations were there to stay. His nose was different but it was the best the doctors could do. He’d already seen his face unbandaged before so she couldn’t imagine why he was acting like this now.

He snarled, his grip around her hair tightening, “And don’t fuckin’ lie..”

She inhaled shakily. Anxiety made her throat tight. There was no right answer.

She lightly grabbed the wrist of his hand at her hair, “Baba, please, let go-“

Suddenly something flashed in eyes and he yanked her hair-making her yelp, “Who was that white haired boy? Hmm, WHO?”

Her eyes widened.

He yanked her hair once more, making her cry out, “I know he was in your room first. He was there before me.”

His grip on her hair was hurting her, “B-baba! Please-“

He shook her, “Did you send him to attack me? You hate me that much? HMM?”

She was kicked to the floor. She cried out when her shoulder collided into the hardwood.

“You HATE YOUR BABA THAT MUCH!” he bellowed.

She cried, curling into a ball as she knew-she knew-what was coming. It seemed her father hadn’t changed after all.

She closed her eyes the instant the kicking ensued.

He swung the door open and shoved her out. Her legs were too weak to stay upright as she stumbled, before falling to her knees on the porch. She sobbed.

“GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HOUSE!”

He kicked her, forcing her off the porch. She caught herself a second before her head connected with the asphalt.

She weakly stood up, “Baba, please-don’t do this-“

He bounded in her direction and she immediately scrambled backwards.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT! I DON’T WANNA SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN!” He yelled while pointing at her.

She watched him retreat to the house and slam the door through tear stained eyes. The windy night air only made her eyes more watery.

She crumpled to her knees, crying into her hands. Why? Why? Why?

She was so tired. So tired.

Of course his kindness only lasted so long.

She grabbed the duffel bag from underneath her bed. She limped to her closet before stuffing as many clothes as she could within.

She winced when she heard things getting thrown downstairs. It seems he was still in the midst of his episode. Her heart thumped wildly in her ears-the only thought going through her head was to move fast.

She quickly went to her bathroom, grabbing a few necessities before her hand accidentally knocked into her toothbrush stand. It hit the floor with a loud crash.

She gasped. Oh no.

Suddenly all the ruckus going on downstairs went completely quiet. Shit.

She was frozen in shock until she heard the sound of someone bounding up the steps. Adrenaline shot through her veins as she tossed her half full duffel bag over her shoulder and ran towards the window-ignoring all the pain within her body as she scrambled out the way she came.

Just as she slipped out she heard her father burst into her room, yelling insults of every kind.

“YOU STUPID BITCH! YA THOUGHT YOU COULD COME BACK, HUH? HOW FUCKIN’ DARE YOU!!”

She flinched as she sped walked across the lawn-unable to run due to the pain her father’s cold hands and brutal kicks had inflicted.

She heard her father’s voice clearer now. He must’ve spotted her out of the window.

“YOU USELESS LIL SLUT-JUS LIKE YOUR GODDAMN MOTHER!! IF I SEE YOU AGAIN I’M THROWING YOU IN A MENTAL ASYLUM, YA HEAR ME?!!! DON’T EVER COME BACK! DON'T EVER COME BACK!!!”

She grit her teeth, forcing herself to not look back as his yelling grew more irrational. She moved as fast she could, half walking-half limping further down the street. She didn’t look back.

The night was dark. The only light keeping her company were the streetlights along the road but it wasn’t enough. It was still too dark for comfort. No stars, no clouds-her eyes couldn’t get used to it.

She nearly dropped her phone when a car zoomed by.

“Can yo-ou hear me?” Millie’s voice crackled through the phone. Her phone service was acting up.

“Yes, yes. I can.” Ara cleared her throat-trying to dispel the croakiness of her voice, “Millie, please. I-I’m begging you. Just sneak me in this once-please.”

“Ara, you know I would but I’m already grounded. If my parents find out I snuck you in they would actually kill me. Like legit-they’d freak out.”

Ara squeezed her eyes shut-trying not to cry, “Millie, please, I-“ her voice cracked as she whispered, “I have nowhere else to go.”

She hated begging so much, and yet it’s all she seemed to do.

Millie was quiet for a second, “Are you sure you can’t like-sneak into your basement or something? Hopefully your dad will have cooled off by morning.”

That would’ve been a great idea if her basement wasn’t only accessible from the garage. Her Dad had multiple cameras and motion detectors installed around the garage. I don’t know what he’ll do if he sees me..

Ara tried to keep her voice steady, “He said he didn’t want to see me again.”

“Yeah, but parents say crap all the time. I’m sure he didn’t mean it-“

“He did.” she deadpanned. Her Father never said those words before, nor had he ever physically kicked her out. She’d seen the violence in his eyes, the spitefulness in his words—it was different. He was ready to hurt her if she came back.

“You really think so?”

Her father’s ferocious expression flashed within her mind and she flinched, resisting the urge to sob. Would anyone ever believe her?

Her voice was faint, “Yeah.”

“Shit-“ Millie was suddenly cut off when a womanly voice came from her end.

“Millie! Who the heck are you calling this late? Gimme that-“

Suddenly the phone line was cut, leaving the dull beeping sound behind.

He paced beside the main entrance. The sound of his dress shoes clacking against the spotless floor echoed throughout the foyer.

Suddenly a feminine voice arose from behind him.

“Sir, your Uncle requests to speak with you.”

He snapped his head around to see a maid outstretching the phone to him with both hands.

The corner of his lip twitched in annoyance, “Just end it. I already told him I left and won’t be back for the rest of the night.”

The maid knew better than to question it-even if colorful words of dismay arose from the other end of the phone. In all honesty, he hadn’t told his Uncle that he wouldn’t be back but was it really that much of a concern? The soirée was boring as shit anyway. Too many old people.

The second he got Ijichi’s call nothing else mattered anyway.

He peered out the bullet proof glass doors when he saw headlights flash past. It was hard to see clearly due to the downpour but he immediately recognized the all black Rolls Royce that pulled up to the entryway.

A subtle grin tugged at the corner of his lip as he sauntered backward a couple steps. He leaned against the stone and marble centerpiece of the dual staircase foyer. The excitement simmering in his veins was unmatched.

Just as he crossed his arms, the double doors were pushed open—revealing her.

Any thoughts about posing left him the second his eyes landed on her. He’d never felt so awake—so drawn to someone.

He was up and off his perch within seconds. He walked up to her, pacing his long legs to move steadily despite everything in his body telling him otherwise. He wanted to rush to her.

He stopped right in front of her. She still hadn’t stepped inside yet.

She was completely drenched-from head to toe. Her clothes stuck to her skin. Droplets of water slipped down the waist length tendrils of her hair. The edges of her pretty lips were raw and reddened-she always had such a bad habit of gnawing at them, didn’t she? Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy as she stared up at him.

She looked so.. lost.

He exhaled silently. His fingers twitched at his sides-the heedy urge to touch her returning at a thousandfold.

Why’d she have to look so pretty when she cries?

He couldn’t tell if the droplets of water caught between her lashes were rain or tears but it didn’t matter. She was here.

She came to him.

She needed him.

He peered down at her before tilting his head, “Hi kitten.” His voice ever so soft.

He saw her eyes widen before her bottom lip quivered. She fell into him and he instantly caught her trembling frame. He drew her close to his chest, hugging her tightly as she sobbed against him. Her tiny hands fisted his dress-shirt, clutching onto him-she didn’t want him to let go.

The rush that coursed through him was incomprehensible. It went straight to his head as he smoothed down her wet hair. His arm around her waist tightened impossibly. He never wanted to let her go.

Her touch was terribly sweet—overwhelmingly so. It’d been the most agonizing two months of his life without her.

Wherever her delicate body met his, warmth surged underneath his skin—like a craving being satiated. It felt so right. Her with him like this. It was perfect. She was perfect.

And she was his.

They both knew it now. The second she stepped onto his doorstep she must’ve known.

She could cry all she wanted in his arms now, if that soothed her. It’d be the last time she cried over anything meaningless anyway. All of her tears would be his alone from now on. He’d never let anything hurt her again.

Precious things ought to be cared for, after all.

a/n: hi thanks for reading this crazy ish bc honestly idk how anyone does LMAO but i want to apologize if the way some things were worded/the grammar is off bc i feel like i've been off my writing game. i haven't been reading a lot in my personal life and that usually helps me format things better :,) i need to get back to reading asap. anyway, if anyone is curious here's the house inspo for gojo's place -> https://imagelocations.com/mansion-31

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[shiftingtomydrs]

MLB DR

Alright so same as with some other drs my personal stuff like name and everything is the same soo wont go into that a lot tbh

then backstory, i originally wanted to be like an exchange student in france but then like i cant very well be ladybug if im only there for a year so i switched it to i move to france for some reason i dont know yet and i live there with my aunt or smth bcs she lives near paris yk? then basically i just kinda take marinettes place but not completely, like shes still there and stuff but im there too yk? my love interest is adrien and marinette will get together (and stay together) with luca cos theyre cute and im not sure yet if i should script her crush on adrien out or just say it disappears at some point

changes in plot: i dont like anything after season 2, dont ask me why, i just dont like it idk why either, so im gonna script seasons 3-5 out with some exceptions (e.g. i kinda really like cat blanc so i might leave that in with some other stuff but the whole shadow moth and all that shit no) also lila isnt the next supervillain shes just a regular mean girl cos it doesnt make any frickin sense that a 15 year old is able to manipulate every single person she meets. like shell still be able to lie and manipulate people her age but not adults cos thats just stupid imo. Also i havent even watched season 5 yet so im going off spoilers i saw for the next part: none of the miraculous will have permanent holders except ladybug and chat noir (aka me and adrien) cos i like to be special :) also i wont be guardian of the miraculous until much later like college or smth cos thats a ton of pressure and it went sideways for marinette so i dont want it going sideways for me. oh and a big one: ill be taking the whole sentimonster plot out cos i hate it and i think ive never hated a plot as much as that one. like sentimonsters can exist okay but felix and adrien and kagami etc arent one. cos just no. oh and ofc i wont know adrien is chat noir haha

now a bit more about myself: idk yet if i just wanna kinda steal marinettes interests and do the whole design thing cos i am a sucker for parallels and the parallel of adriens parents and adrinette is there but then again why would i wanna be like gabriel? so i might just do what i do in 90% of my drs and be a songwriter (well ill be that anyway question is do i add the designing part on top or not?), otherwise i like baking, ill do figure skating or gymnastics or ballet prolly like all the things i wanna do here but cant for this or that reason. my nationality will be german prolly cos i like having the german passport and also i dont think i need a visa for france cos its in the eu. i wont really script much more about like me and adrien except that we end up together but in my head its kinda similar to the adrien and marinette situation cos im a sucker for slowburn and idk it just fits i think also with my issues with trusting people have good intentions and not just spend time with me bcs of a bet or shit like that.

Physical looks, i might change my hair color cos idk i think itll fit and yeah but ill still have my eye color and height and stuff just be a bit fitter cos with my endurance theres no way ill be able to be a superhero (ik theres magic and shit but still)

im not sure yet if i should leave the dr as a cartoon or do it like this reality (leaning towards this reality bcs i think cartoon would freak me out a bit for my first shift and id overcomplicate it) or maybe ill just do two drs, one cartoon and one not.

anyway, if you have any questions, id love to talk more about this dr so pls ask them <3

@ningsols here it is :)

[mulletmitsuya]

I hated the tr ending so badly. Not because it was rushed or anything. Wakui could have fleshed out the last timeline so thoroughly and logically and I would still hate it because the ending itself goes against what I felt the story stood for in the first place. He replaced all the characters for fakes, none of the characters we were intoduced to had happy endings because they either are totally different people or re lived their life to avoid healing. The ending basically proved izanas last words right "there's no saving me" yeah I guess not if the only way to help everyone is to make sure their lives never happened the way it did. Horrible I hate it so much. Also one ship I hate is rinzu or ranzu because they don't even interact once and it's so popular for no fucking reason other than "its hot" and tbh they would prolly hate eachother like petty bitches, they would NOT get along at any point. Also Koko and amane ship because if people actually read the manga with their eyes open it would not make sense. Anyways thanks for letting me be a hater in ur askbox, I love your blog btw

This is long, also tw for typical tokrev themes and sa

I think you're the first person who has the same opinion as me lmao😭. I also didn't believe it should have had an ending like that at all because of the themes that had been set up during the entire story. I understand people's perspectives of "It's Wakui's manga and it's his ending he can do what he wants" but media is supposed to be talked about, discussed and even criticized at times. That's like, the whole point of publishing stuff. As an enjoyer and supporter of Wakui's manga, I feel like I have the right to question some inconsistencies and contradictions (not directly attack him tho, that's never okay. like people who send death threats over ships and stuff that's messed up) that showed up in the ending. I also believe lots of people didn't really take it seriously as a manga idk. It had some very serious topics that people seem to forget about. For example: suicide, abuse, abandonment, child neglect, substance abuse, extreme violence, rape, prostitution etc, and I think people just kinda see it as a silly manga that has cool characters they like. And that's okay. It's okay to not take a piece of media seriously and enjoy it for the sake of enjoying it, not everything needs to be critically analyzed, but stop shitting on the people who take it seriously enough to question why the fuck it ended how it ended. Lots of the discourse took place between critical analysers who wanted an author to finish the manga by sticking to the themes and messages he has set up the entire time versus casual enjoyers who just wanted everyone to be happy for the sake of liking the characters. And I completely agree with the Izana thing!!!! You cannot claim to have saved someone by rewriting their entire life!!! Takemitchy was not supposed to be god!! Also, isn't the moral story of time travel that you should never ever do it? Because you win some, you lose a whole lot fucking more. I thought Draken dying was setting up that narrative. That saving Mikey, was gonna fuck up a whole lot. Isn't that why Chifuyu broke down?

Idk about you guys, but dark impulses being a curse disappointed me quite a bit. I thought it was supposed to be a symbol of Mikey being deeply mentaly ill. And that he had to deal with it head on and not run away all the time (this was Takemichi's entire storyline basically and the the main theme of TR). I just feel like it sucked because the message of the ending, whether Wakui intended it or not, was that you can't be fixed without magical time traveling. Although the story had some fictional aspects, it was realistic at least. I thought they'd deal with everything that wasn't time travel realistically.

Any ship with Sanzu and the Haitani's is hilarious to me and although I don't ship any of them seriously, the fanarts fun to look at some time (and you're right I think they look good together cause they're hot😭). You are completely correct about them not liking each other tho. It's actually canon. Idk if you remember during the three deities fight when Ran hit Haruchiyo with his baton? Nothing but pure malice between their eyes😭. The Koko and Akane ship actually triggers me because one thing about me? I'm not comfortable with large age gaps. Akane was 5 years older than Koko💀. And I didn't know people took what she said to him seriously. I thought she was just trying to not hurt his feelings? Koko and Inupi were around 7/8 when the fire happened. Meaning Akane was like 12/13. Uhhh Idk bout y'all but I don't think a 13 yo would be attracted to someone that young. And waiting for them to be of age is...😶. Be fr.

[chirpbudgie]

introducing my stanley for rawts: gidget!!!!!!! his name was from his narrator so he decided to change it :-) like stanford, he loooooves learning but his narrator got after him for asking questions. for now i did some writing about him……(kept falling asleep writing it, FINALLY FINISHED!!!!!!!!!) and later? who knows.!!! i have a ref almost done which i’ll probably post later under the rawts tag. as well as a bunch of other facts and like. half a drabble that i can talk abt. but i will prolly just make a separate post! ok i’m rambling hello to @queenburd and @charmemes

some inspiration drawn from Satisfied by Pansychic27213 on ao3 but when am i not inspired by that.

The Parable had been tense for some time now. Stanley wasn’t keeping track, but the narrator probably was. He was petty like that. But it’s not like he was allowed to have time to himself to cool off, because why would that be a good idea?

(The narrator didn’t do anything unless it was his idea.)

“Come on! You can do it, Stanley.” His tone was patronizing. Of course the son of a bitch would turn up his volume. It’s not like Stanley’s feelings mattered or anything. He never respected boundaries unless he was in a good mood.

Stanley reminded himself to unclench his jaw and it popped when he did. He stepped through the left door. Hopefully, if he stayed quiet and played peacemaker for a while the narrator would stop trying to get a rise out of him.

(No broom closet. Comfort is off limits right now so it isn’t taken away again.)

He pretended to be surprised in the meeting room. Stanley stifled a sigh in the bosses office while the monologue continued, but still acted thoughtful and put a random code in before the real one. Looked around a little, raised his eyebrows, furrowed them.

And he pretended to look surprised when the elevator opened. He did not need to pretend to be surprised when he caught movement in the corner of his vision and tripped on a wire. Obviously the narrator moved it, but a wave of fear washed over him when he thought about giving a response.

(Okay, so he wouldn’t give fake reactions. He was just trying to play along; usually it’s appreciated. Use your words, narrator—what are you, three?)

The narrator’s voice was still cranked up and echoed in the large chamber, bless his heart. Stanley gripped the hem of his shirt as he walked and his senses buzzed unpleasantly.

(He was not going to have a meltdown this soon after their fight. He wasn’t. Not a sensory one, anyway. He’d rather go down from his own choices.)

His fear had finally receded to anger again and the button panel was his victim. The narrator didn’t care how hard he punched it, since it was obviously made of something strong. (He’d love to determine what exactly, but he didn’t have a magnet. Wasn’t allowed one, after…)

(He couldn’t remember. Didn’t want to, anyway.)

With the telltale buzz of the monitor shutting down, Stanley could make out the narration again. He sighed with relief. Now that the volume was normal, he listened in (out of politeness, but still).

“Stanley reflected on how many puzzles still lay unsolved. Where had his co-workers gone? How had he been freed from the machines grasp? What other mysteries did this strange building hold?” The narrator’s voice was mocking when he asked the questions and it was grating like nails on a chalkboard. The voice he always used to mock Stanley. Anger bubbled up again. Maybe his co-workers had left because they couldn’t stand the sheer disrespect of this guy. They should’ve taken him with; subjecting him to this was a fate worse than death.

“But as sunlight streamed into the chamber, he realized none of this mattered to him. For it was not knowledge, or even power, he had been seeking, but happiness. Perhaps his goal had not been to understand, but to let go.”

Stay calm, Stanley. Deep breaths. Don’t let him get a reaction out of you.

“No longer would anyone tell him where to go, what to do, or how to feel. Whatever life he lives, it will be his. And that was all he needed to know. It was, perhaps, the only thing worth knowing. Stanley stepped-“

Stanley kicked the door as hard as he could before it disappeared beneath the floor and the echoing boom drowned out the voice. This motherfucker wanted to irritate him sooooo bad. Well, he did it. Happy?

{Boohoo}, Stanley emphasized his middle fingers in the sign. {Someone doesn’t want to address his plot-holes. I’ve been trying to be nice here, and here you go probably SPITTING all over yourself as you talk. Haven’t you ever heard, “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all?”}

The silence was deafening. He could practically see “the outside” change hues to an ugly yellow, warping and melting. He pushed back the fear that resurfaced and let the rage boil in him.

“Stanley. Stepped. Through. The. Door.” The narrator’s poorly concealed fury made his guts churn.

{Stop antagonizing me, I thought I was the protagonist. Isn’t that, like, one of the first rules of storytelling? You already have a conflict, you can’t make me another one out of nowhere.}

The reset felt more like a punch.

He was now in the Serious Room, which had long ago been revamped for solitary confinement. “TIMEOUT” was written in red blocky letters on one of the concrete walls, but it was the only feature remaining.

Fuck, he was in big trouble. He knows exactly what his punishment is going to be.

———

The Narrator relaxed as the restrictions of a human body melted away.

The last Parable had been rougher than he’d hoped. Just a little time to himself would be nice, or even some time with his Stanley. But he had a job to do and by god, he’ll do it.

This Stanley, he noted, did not seem to be… present. He stumbled through the halls—toward the freedom ending each time—with wide, glazed over eyes and the bucket clutched to his chest. This narrator did not seem particularly cruel, even encouraging him softly along the way. When he looked closely, this narrator’s presence was concentrated around Stanley like a blanket.

It was the fourth or fifth run that Stanley seemed to come back to himself. He didn’t stand up from his chair, disgust and guilt curling out from him in thick waves. The Narrator reeled a little, not expecting such strong emotions just from the surface. Stanley still held the bucket, apparently allowed to keep it between resets, but kept a poker face. The other narrator had receded some too, he noted.

“Are you feeling better, Stanley?” This narrator spoke. There was no softness like before, just down-to-business.

A burst of disgust billowed from Stanley again (strong enough to make The Narrator gag a little, despite his incorporeality). The office worker nodded weakly but didn’t lift his eyes from the ground.

“Good. Get on with it when you’re ready, I’ll wait out here. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Stanley shudders suddenly and The Narrator feels a hazy memory. “it’s my fault,” echoes in his mind, but it feels more like a reassurance than a fact.

This Stanley is too fragile right now, The Narrator realizes. It hurts to step back and deny the poor man a hug, but he very likely wouldn’t be able to handle it in this… brainwashed state.

He still looks dazed when he completes the freedom ending again, but seems more aware after another reset and hides in the broom closet.

So it’s a drop in the bucket (figuratively) to soundproof the small room. It’s wiser for The Narrator to stay hidden from the other until he knows the extent of his seemingly unpredictable behavior.

Stanley startles at the sound of shoes hitting the ground. He stares at the new man with his hands up, but can’t seem to form anything to say. He rocks a little from his position on the floor.

That’s alright, of course. The Narrator will give him all the time he needs.

{Who?} Stanley finally manages before frantically sitting on his hands.

“I’m The Narrator of a different Stanley,” he begins, speaking softly. It’s a little hard on his knees, but he sits down on the floor too. This Stanley feels like a scared, cornered animal. “I’m going to help you leave. Would you like some company in the meantime?”

Stanley squirms a little. He has so many questions that they’re practically forced into The Narrator’s head, but he only nods. His expression is conflicted.

“Let’s see…” Wow, that is a lot, he’ll go in order. “I’m not completely sure how I’m here either. I can exist outside of this body, but most Stanleys seem to prefer I use it when we first meet. No, I created it-“

{Are you reading my mind?!} Stanley signs frantically. His mouth has dropped wide open.

“You might as well be handing them to me on sticky-notes, dear boy,” he chuckles. “I’m only listening to the surface level.”

But Stanley shrinks back. {Sorry, I hope it’s not too many questions. My narrator doesn’t do that.} He wrings his hands together and looks everywhere else.

He’s panicking, The Narrator realizes. Stanley is fearful of asking. It makes him want to cry and hold this poor man until he’s never afraid again.

He pulls himself to sit next to the office worker and holds his hand. “I don’t mind—in fact, I enjoy it very much. Ask to your hearts content.”

This Stanley wears his heart on his sleeve, it seems, and the sudden emotions hit him like a brick. It’s almost overstimulating at first.

Stanley takes a deep breath, shaky. {Thank you,} he fumbles. He wants to say more, but he doesn’t want to unlink their hands. Touch-starvation is one hell of a drug and he thinks he’ll start crying if he lets go.

Even with the reassurance, an unspoken question rests on his fingers. He finally looks back at The Narrator, who has a welcoming smile on his face. “Of course, whatever you want.”

He shuffles closer gingerly, like if he moves too fast The Narrator might leave. The older man bridges the divide and Stanley is settled in his lap.

“I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable,” he hums and Stanley relaxes. He curls up, resting his head against The Narrator’s shoulder. A hand begins to rub his back and he takes a deep breath again, this time in relief.

His own narrator is a ticking time bomb—he’s had to learn to switch gears fast. And that probably sped up the process of him getting here, in such a vulnerable position, but he doesn’t mind all that much. In fact, this is the first time in a long time that he’s been able to remember what hope is truly like.

But the thoughts bleed out of him like sand through a sieve. He doesn’t fight it like he always does. He’s never been truly comforted like this, it’s so earnest—there’s no fear that his coping mechanism will be exploited. That he’ll be exploited for the story.

Stanley has plenty of questions, but he can ask them later. When he remembers them.

(The Narrator notes that Stanley’s contentment is an emotion that feels stale. Like a stuffed animal that’s been moved around, but hasn’t been played with in years; dust collecting deep and thick in the fur.)

[butterscotch-goat]

🖊 lucy beacuse you loveeeee gingers

you're so right I do love gingers

OKAY I already talk about Lucy a lot so let's see what I can pull out of my ass crack today

Let's start from the beginning??? I guess??

SO originally Lucy was going to be this super mysterious character, mostly because I didn't have any ideas for him at the time. He was going to just go by "boss" and he had melty fractured wings and a halo to represent how badly he missed heaven. wowwwww so cool and edgy bett. anyway. Ended up decided that all fallen angels lost their halos and angels never had wings so that was all scrapped, and for a hot minute I just had this pathetic little guy. I've always seen interpretations of Satan as either super suave, attractive guys or big strong meanie pants or the occasional goat gremlin thing, so I thought having literal Satan as a sad little man wouod be funny. That part is still true, but he's not *literal Satan* anymore since "Dawn" isn't bible-compliant, Lucy was/is just the leader of the fallen angels.

About that "was/is," I feel like I never stressed enough how none of the demons really respect Lucy anymore. Like they don't outright dog on him really but everyone knows that he's a sopping wet cat of a demon. Everyones kinda just like "yeah our boss is a mess of tears and paperwork but like no one else wants to be boss so he can stay"

about his name! Lucy - he wanted to change his name after falling to separate himself from heaven but also to have a name that might cause fear among humans, so he looked to the names humans gave "him" (Satan) - he liked Lucifer, but didn't wanna just steal a name from humans because humans SUCK!!! so he shortened it to Lucy, not knowing that Lucy is a completely normal human name. No one's told him that Lucy is a completely normal name yet and no one plans to :)) he hates going to earth nowadays anyway so he probably won't find out

Currently, his job is making a MASSIVE PLAN for the ULTIMATE COLLAPSE OF HUMANITY!!!! very evil boom fireworks swords bkaw!!! Buuut since gene broke up with him in 1922 Lucy spends most of his time sleeping, crying, or generally being pretty sad. He still works on his PLAN!! because he has nothing else to do besides those previously mentioned activities, tho

I've mentioned this many a time before I think, but when Lucy was an angel (aka Abigail (that was his name when he was an angel)) he made underwater volcanoes, helped making clouds, and made a bunch of bigger, more vague stuff that was created before all the other angels were made. Abigail was the only angel for 100ish years as of typing this, so really not too long. In that time it was just him and Jod, Abigail kinda did whatever he wanted, making stuff and concepts and Jod being his buddy :D

Fun fact!! Y'know how Lucy has that split hair, one side ginger and really poofy and one side not? Well about that not side, I have no fuckign clue what is going on. Is it shaved? Maybe!! Is it dyed black? I dunno prolly??? I haven't thought about it!! I just color it in and give it vague texture!! Will I have to figure it out someday? Yeah but that's for laterrrrr

If he didn't hate humanity and refuse to partake in their ridiculous customs, Lucy would be drinking some form of energy drink 24/7. He doesnt sleep even without an energy drink and he's always on edge regardless but like it makes sense to me. He would chug a purple monster. this is important 2 me

his shoes give him 2 1/2 inches of extra height but he's still short as fukc

you may already know this but 536 AD was when Lucy was in his PRIME!! he ENJOYED going to earth because whenever he did he would just FUCK SHIT UP!! and made humanity sad n stuff!!! but then things started getting better for humans so it wasn't as fun anymore

Okay I've already talked a lot and will talk a lot in the future about this little idiot so that's all for now!!

[utilitycaster]

Alternate systems abound, but for a sense of limitation before the occasionally-surmountable, I recommend Kids with Bikes. It can prolly be adapted, and the main (and only essential)book is short enough you could likely gin up any setting you want in an afternoon. Otoh, Ten Candles is eye-opening just for its disjunction from dice as a mechanism, but the moods a bit off.

Answering these two together but like. I appreciate that the intent is to be helpful, but here's the deal. Realistically, it is unlikely I will find a group who wants to learn a whole new system for a mystery in the first place, nor that I will have time to run it in the near future.

The point of my original post was far more to illustrate three things:

This seems like a gap in indie ttrpgs that could be filled very successfully by an enterprising game designer and/or an existing indie ttrpg that works mostly out of the box that could use a boost since all the mystery games that are easily found do not fit the bill, and

It's endlessly frustrating that the indie ttrpg scene will at any opportunity tell people to leave D&D and come with them, but typically does not have a good sense of what people are looking for as D&D alternatives and as a rule does not fundamentally grasp that if you're trying to convert people from D&D, your game needs to have both unique elements that are not as well handled in D&D from the perspective of D&D players (hint: things D&D doesn't handle amazingly well are heists, settings where magic isn't a factor both mundane or sci fi, classic mystery structure, very specific horror mechanics, stories that are primarily about places/societies rather than individuals; and unevenness among the ensemble cast. For some reason a lot of people think it doesn't handle social encounters well which makes no sense to me and that is disproportionately the thing people focus on) and ideally have playbooks/pre-built adventures that don't require a ton of hacking, because at that point, if I need to learn a new system AND then hacking it, both D&D (already know the system) or building a new system (won't need to hack it) are easier.

Specifically, why is "great investigator investigates, darker elements but also very witty, NO FUCKING COSMIC HORRORS" a la the Knives Out movies but also pretty commonly in works like Poirot, Murder She Wrote, Mr. Campion, or honestly anything that would have been on PBS Mystery" difficult to find and almost all mystery TTRPGs, even those based on those above works, include an elder god or something for no apparent reasons.

Anyway Kids on Bikes I believe also has a superpowered character as a core mechanic, I am truly unsure why Ten Candles was even mentioned given that it has absolutely none of the elements I'm looking for, and I think that hack of Dread could be fun for the right group but it's absolutely not what I'm looking for.

If you have an indie ttrpg in mind that does not require hacking and which meets that description please feel free to bring it up but to be totally honest, if you recommend a game that does not meet that description you are going to hurt its chances more than help.

[diancite]

i have come up with an extremely self indulgent au and i needed to write down all of these thoughts Somewhere. so what if the extra characters from other regions (ykno like. the battle tree characters) in alola were all fallers from universes where shit went horribly wrong! and in this specific universe something happened to everyones counterpart so none of them are recognized as whatever they are... because they Aren't That in this world.

so cynthia isnt recognized as yknow the fucking sinnoh champion. she doesnt remember shit from her world, she doesnt even remember galarian well enough to properly communicate at first. (she. hit her head real hard on top of faller amnesia lol) once she's physically recovered from being very aggressively thrown into this world tho she's. fine really. vaguely traumatized but overall having a great time in alola! ...when shes not suffering from the heat, anyway

and this is where i throw in faller! caitlin and grimsley too :-) ive always looked at grimsley in alola and thought. wow hes seen some shit. and i love caitlin and think adding her in here could be really funny so. theyre both here and from the same world. they have seen the horrors. caitlin decides to pretend like nothing bad happened and is literally just vibing. grimsley not so much.

oh colress is also a faller in this but i havent thought much about him yet.

wally has also seen the horrors. kukui adopts him along with lillie. (i think in this au wally wouldve shown up first?) wow kukui who let you have Two very nice but traumatized children.

im tryna decide what i wanna do with red and blue. would be kinda funny if i made them fallers as well. same with sina and dexio?????? idk.

i dont Really have an actual plot for this yet but it's prolly usum since that makes more sense than regular sun/moon.... my brain is slowly emptying the more i write so. uh. yeah teehee funny alola fallers au

[easingintostillness]

for me, falling in love doesn't feel like easing into it, slowly, gradually, it definitely doesn't feel like putting your feet in the water first til you're comfortable then you start submerging your body then you swim—nope, it doesn't feel that way at all.

for me, it feels like somebody challenged me for a shootout, and so i had no choice but ready my gun and pull the trigger first. it almost feels like a competition. i always have this strong intense urge to pull the trigger, like "if i don't, i die" kind of thing. like, imagine your chest has this ticking bomb, and it makes you anxious all the time because... what if it explodes when you're not ready? and so you decided, "well, fuck it, i feel too restless, this is uncomfortable, so imma just push the button and let it boom right here right now!", and there you have it, my hasty thoughtless ✨love confession✨ there's no complicated mental processes around it, like "oh, it won't probably work in the long run blablabla i need to get my life in order first, i need to prepare and plan and strat"—nope, none, i have zero pragmatism within me. it feels more like i just mainly want a sense of relief. once i get it off, it feels like a heavy load is lifted off my shoulder, and i can be more carefree and expressive and shalala. like, i said what i said, i feel what i feel, it doesn't matter whether or not they feel the same way, most important thing is: life gets to be in a nice alignment now, i can die in peace.

thinking through it, im aware that it lacks consideration of the other person, and i'm most definitely make a lot of people feel uncomfortable they'd prolly think, "what the fuck? what's up with this chick?", i never even bother to create an inviting atmosphere to talk things through, to get there, to ✨ease✨ into it, again, it's a cowboy duel for me and i'm on the verge of death! but in retrospect, i could only be who i genuinely am if i were to find the right kind of relationship for me. at least in the past, i managed to attract people who actually found that quality endearing and intriguing; repelling who didn't. i mean, let's say that particular trait of mine is a teaser to the full version of me anyway. so if they're up for it, if it somehow clicks with them, if they somehow find beauty in that, it means we're compatible in a way.

so yeah, moral of the story, as mainstream as generic as it sounds: our traits are our filters, so just ✨be yourself✨ lol. let the right people gravitate towards you because you're you, let the act of living be effortless~

[canthandlethishit]

cheap poorly written chinese novels are so funky and unintentionally comedic

“[name]’s crane was so realistically folded and lively”

A PAPER CRANE????? REALISTIC???? LIVELY???

bitch in what world like idc how neatly and whatever god-tier origami skills bro got, [name] made his crane that he learned how to since elementary’s arts&crafts so aint no fucking way does this

looks “lively” 😭

another funny thing, yk how novels give characters like sad angsty backstories? so the MC died starving and freezing under a bridge homeless after being neglected and evicted by his adoptive parents (who started neglecting him since they managed to birth a baby boy a year after adopting mans). he transmitted to this novel world into a body even weaker than his previous life’s and its rapidly decaying and he’s terminally ill and is going to die in over a year’s time, he cares about the feeling of the people around him so he’s been hiding his symptoms and suffering in silence as spasms of sharp pain emerges frequently (its so painful whenever these happen bro literally collapses) and he’s distancing from everyone he cares about (in this novel world) since he doesn’t want their feelings hurt when they find out his eventual impending doom (he’s planned to run away and die quietly where no one knows him, despite being an absolute sweetheart, a caring boy who like making friends etc etc) like he’s actively avoid making friends

the ML is hated and neglected by his parents, rich people things yk when money and inheritance comes first, and his mother had another child before him with another man. she love his half brother but despises him. the story given for his past? idk if the author ran out of ideas or sth but to perfectly illustrate the pain and suffering the ML suffered from his mother’s unfairness is a anecdote of how when the ML was young the mother brought him and his half brother out and bought tang hulu (candied fruit on a skewer) but only gave his half brother one and none for him 😔

BRO THERE WAS SO MANY MORE EXAMPLES YOU COULDVE GIVEN AND THE WAY THE ANECDOTE WAS TOLD WAS COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS 💀💀💀 it wasnt a misunderstood “daddy why did you eat my fries” kind of childhood trauma memory its my mum bought brother a candy and not me girl that whats traumatic and not her literally dissing and verbally abusing you (even now when ML is a grown man)

anyways 5/10 story, sorry author prolly really desperate (this the type of cheap novels you shit out daily chapters for and get paid peanuts by the web and to meet its kpi) this was poorly planned & written and maybe they should look for another job cuz ain’t nothing makes sense here and i cant even find the english version of this story so prolly no one translated it 💀

[hyper-homo-reblogs]

i am so tired and also posting this on my rb account because i don't want anyone who isn't like. following following me to see it

rant/vent? under the cut? idk im just. rambling. about how i may to may not be neurodivergent. im trying to figure stuff out and im hoping that if i put it here i can maybe clear my head a bit.

im. like 90% sure i have social anxiety. that's a given though ig. most people prolly dont feel their hearts start to actually hurt when going somewhere by urself with ppl you dont know. and um. im scared of talking to people. like irrationally terrified. and it may be a consequence of me being at home all the time but honestly idk.

i think i may have adhd. i dont have a comprehensive list of everything that i do that i think is a part of adhd behaviour but. everytime i see someone mention something that is supposedly a symptom of adhd im like hey! i do that! and im starting to think its not a coincidence anymore?

BUT at the same time i feel like im. idk trying to convince myself. for some reason. like maybe im not, maybe im just connecting dots that aren't really there, maybe im trying to fool myself into thinking that im different. it doesn't help that i don't really have a reason to care about whether or not im neurodivergent. im doing fine, and im not struggling at all, so does it even matter?

idk. idk if it even matters if it should matter. does that make sense? like maybe if i want to know, then that's reason enough for me to start questioning things. but is that a valid reason to essentially self diagnose? i feel like maybe im undermining somebody else's experiences by just. saying that i might have adhd.

anyways. i think i have the inattentive type of adhd. i don't get hyperactive very often (ironic, considering my user and the general tone that i present myself with here). a lot of my symptoms match up with the inattentive type of adhd. pretty much every website lists the same things (lack of attention to detail, trouble staying focused, frequent spiciness, difficulty following instructions, being easily distracted, forgetfulness, etc) and i always feel like. yeah everyone does that. i always do that. are you sure that that's an adhd thing. it feels obvious!!! but it isn't!!! so maybe i do have it!!! maybe!!!

its. ive also started questioning if my fam is neurodivergent too. just because a lot of the stuff associate with them doesn't seem to be neurotypical. and again im stuck with the issue of like. is that fine to do? to question if they are or aren't neurotypical? because. i think my mom has the hyperactive type of adhd. or maybe both. and my dad may be on the autism spectrum. and my sister may be as well. but it feels bad to write that down!! i don't think it should feel bad to write but it does!! because what if i don't actually know them!! what if my brain is lying to me!! i don't know anymore!!

one of the top 10 things my mom likes to say is that we don't think like each other. my mom and my dad don't think the same. me and my sister don't think the same. me and my mom don't think the same. and it rlly rlly shows, in how we communicate and how we argue. and it is genuinely so frustrating sometimes. but NOBODY thinks the same, right? because its all. a result of circumstance. or whatever. and nobody's BRAINS works the same. but isn't that the point?? of the distinction between neurotypical and neurodivergent people?? are we all neurodivergent?? are only some of us?? are none of us?? I HAVE NO IDEA

okay. rant over. im. still tired. and still havent figured anything out but maybe ill come back to this later.

[mellowdisco]

sorry about not being on here and only coming on to rb edits and fcs dksfhj i’ve been taking some time away to try and figure out what i should do w this blog because while i do love all of the threads and dynamics i currently have (and i do mean this with my whole ass chest and heart), i’ve been feeling bad about some stuff... 

like there are drafts i haven’t touched in 1-2 months that i’m not even sure if i should still tackle. most of my partners are fast-paced and i worry they feel like i’m not the partner for them and just don’t want to say it 😭 ik some ppl have expiry dates and have probably already considered them dropped so i’m at an awkward point where i don’t know what to do. i also have a lot of insecurities when it comes to my writing and stance with people that adds to it

most of this is just a Me problem too honestly... i find it hard to communicate and feel insecure about our threads if we aren’t close or if we don’t interact much ooc, if someone stops replying to me ooc i start to worry i’ve done something wrong so it puts me off from replying to threads which i’m 100% aware is honestly SO dumb and unfair. i never blame anyone but myself for this and it’s something i should and have been trying to work on.

because i’ve always been aware of these insecurities, my initial idea for this blog was to keep it private and friends only, but at the same time i want to meet more people and don’t want to close off potential new partners 😔 so i was never really strict w that rule. 

i want people i can rave about our muses / ships with when we’re feeling musey while still being able to talk about other stuff. bc that’s really only why i’m here. no weird vibes just pure pals who talk and write sometimes<3 i feel like everyone but me has Those Partners while i’m just floating here like pennywise’s red balloon...

maybe this blog needs a big clean up overall, idk. i’m thinking of moving (again... i know) and taking w me the people who are genuinely still interested in writing whether it be w our existing stuff or new ones. or... just disappear quietly and start completely fresh on a new blog w new muses (those i have long term stuff with, we could either continue on d.iscord or on a private sideblog)

if you do end up reading all of that mess, i’m sorry dsfksjfgf i’d love some opinions on what you think i should do... or maybe a show of hands who here would genuinely still like to write together? that might help me w my decision-making but if not, pls just scroll past this post and move on with your day<3 i know this is really awkward so i’ll just assume you didn’t see this post, no hard feelings!

[mayumiiyuu]

Eddie x reader

Where she hits a bully with a lunch tray because they’re making fun of Eddie for something stupid because she don’t take none of that shit

I love violent reader insert

A/N: i too, love violent reader insert, with all my anger issues (which I should prolly talk to my therapist about) I too would smack anyone with a lunch tray if they made fun of the love of my life.

e. munson || violent delights

tw: mentions of (well deserved) violence against douchebags

While you were relatively new at Hawkins, only having lived there for about two years when you transferred in your sophomore year of high school, you had earned quite the reputation for yourself as none other than the badass of Hawkins High.

It wasn’t that you were mean or unnecessarily cruel, the basket ball team douchebags had already taken the title as bullies of the school anyhow, it was just that you were frank, brutally honest, and utterly allergic to bullshit.

You didn’t bother with the stupid made up rules about cliques being unable to mix, despising the social hierarchy with all your heart and soul, you were friends with the people you wanted to be friends with, from all different sorts of groups. From the funny band kids to some of the less pretentious, nicer cheer leaders, to even some of the nerds that played dungeons and dragons, you only ever made space in your life for genuine people, people who could be their most authentic selves without worrying about the status quo.

Your reputation as an absolute badass first started when you called out your old, racist, sexist, homophobic, and all-things-a-bigot-was English teacher who gave you a backhanded comment in class when you wrote about how F. Scott Fitzgerald was a shithead who basically plagiarized his wife’s work and plastered his name on it when you were supposed to do an in-depth essay on The Great Gatsby and it’s themes involving “the American dream”. You smirk at the memory of him basically cowering at your feet when you called out the fallacies he had used when you debated with him.

But, you had officially earned your title when you broke a jock’s nose by slamming his stupid face into a locker when he had made a sexist remark at you right before he tried to lean in an swap salivas with you.

You had been sent to detention that day, and that was the fateful day you had made acquaintances with with a certain metalhead. After telling him your reason of being there, he had applauded you, inviting you over to his club to join in on one of his campaigns. Unable to refuse as you had wanted to get to know him more, you agreed.

From then on, you found yourself constantly within the company of Eddie Munson.

You liked him, with his whole eccentric personality, witty remarks, and weird sense of humor, you had become friends with the boy fairly quickly despite his outcast status—which, of course, you didn’t give a damn about. He made you laugh the hardest you had ever felt, stomach aching to the point you swore if you laughed anymore you’d grow a six pack; he was someone you often sought out for to have some of the most interesting, thought provoking conversations. Despite his carefree demeanor and utter lack of concern for his academics, you had observed that Eddie was actually really smart, able to dismantle societal concepts with his disdain for conformity, hell, you even admired the guy for his open mindedness.

Though you had made friends, you could only ever really count them on the fingers of one of your hands, as people were too intimidated by your blunt demeanor to approach you. That, combined with your resting bitch face, made it hard for people to view you in a warm and welcoming perspective.

But you had decided long ago that whoever was too intimidated by your aura and sharp eyes weren’t worth your time. If your reputation and the rumors they had heard of you honestly made them hesitate to befriend you, they weren’t people you wanted in your life anyway.

Currently, you sat at a lunch table with Eddie and the other members of Hellfire, throwing your head back in laughter as you cackle at one of Eddie’s snarky jokes about the popular crowd.

As if they had heard him, Eddie’s own sworn enemy stands from his seat and makes his way towards your guys’ table.

Ever the observant one, you had spotted him get up from his seat, by scanning his body posture with his clenched hands as well as the look of contempt in his eyes, you silently prepared yourself for battle.

As he saunters over to the table, a few of the other basketball jocks following behind him, you let out a tsk.

Didn’t even have the fucking balls to come here himself, no, he had to bring in reinforcements.

The glare you send him almost makes him want to turn back and torment the D&D nerds another day, but since he was a man with his pride on the line, he very idiotically ignored his gut feeling.

You intertwined your fingers together, propping your elbows on the table as you rested your chin on your hands, eyeing his movements carefully.

The others quickly catch on, the freshmen, who you knew as Mike and Dustin, quickly avert their gaze and freeze like deer in the headlights, as if Jason Carver was a T-Rex: he can’t see you if you didn’t move.

But if Jason was a T-Rex, you were motherfucking Godzilla.

He flashes them his signature smile before Eddie rolls his eyes at him.

“What do you want, Carver?”

“Oh y’know, just wanted to see what the freak show was up to—hey, didn’t anyone tell you guys the circus left town the other day?” The blonde says sarcastically as his goonies laugh at his weak ass joke.

You stay silent, thinking that maybe, just maybe, in that pea sized brain of his, he would somehow find some common sense and realize what the hell he was getting into.

“Fuck off, will ya?” Gareth replies, exasperated from the jock’s incessant attempts of intimidation and bullying.

“And the geek speaks!” Jason cries. “What, you guys feeling brave now that (last name) is sitting at your table?”

Eddie stands, his form most definitely towering over Jason’s, in order to defend his friend.

You only pay half attention to whatever Eddie says to him, glare glued onto Jason, laying patiently, silently in wait for that jackass to give you a good reason to knock him into next Tuesday.

Whatever Eddie says to him riles him up more than Jason reckoned.

The blonde laughs, the sound devoid of any amusement at Eddie’s words.

“Why don’t you take you and your satanic cult and get the hell away from here, yeah? Or, better yet, why don’t you jump off a bridge? Doubt anyone’ll miss you,” every word that comes out of his mouth makes you want to claw his eyes out. “You’re nothing but a freak, Munson, no one fucking wants you around. Bet your parents left you with your uncle because they couldn’t stand to see what an utter disappointment their child was—or, maybe they couldn’t find it in themselves to love a freakish monster like you.”

Good, you thought, that sentence was reason enough for you.

You grab your lunch tray, lowering in order for him not to catch onto what you were about to do next.

You plaster a smile on your face, which had him somewhat fooled. He smiled back at you warmly.

“(y/n), come on, why don’t we escort you away from these freaks,” He starts, gesturing you over to him and his friends.

Tch, typical meathead jock, not a single thought in his brain. Had he seriously not noticed the look of pure death in your eyes?

“Of course,” your voice is nauseatingly, sickeningly sweet that it sends a shudder up Jason’s spine. “But, first—“ were the last thing Jason heard before you lifted up your lunch tray high in the air as you swung it at him, hitting him smack dab on the face.

He lurched backwards at the force you had hit him with, blood coming out his nostrils as his friends caught him before he could land on the floor.

Too bad, you would’ve loved to see that.

Eddie and the rest of your friends are absolutely stunned, while at the same time admiring how gracefully and effortlessly you had just attacked the captain of the basketball team.

As Jason somewhat regains his consciousness, he wiped the blood that had started to dribble from his nose onto his upper lip, panic and shock written all over his face.

You bend your knees slightly as you lean in towards him, his so called friends too chicken to even try to defend their captain from your wrath.

“Next time you try that shit again,” you start, placing the lunch tray down on the floor. “It’ll be the last thing you ever do, mkay?”

He stammers, hands shaking under your vicious stare.

“Nod if you understand.” You say, ensuring the message got to him loud and clear.

He gulps, nodding his head slowly.

“Good.” You state, flipping your hair as you waltz your way back to your seat, sipping your apple flavored juice box.

The whole cafeteria looks at you with the same and utter shock Jason had just given you, murmuring to themselves about the scene that had just unfolded while Jason was basically carried by his friends that acted like his crutches.

Eddie sits down and exhales. “That, was the single most amazing thing I have ever witnessed in my entire life,” he looks to you, veneration in his eyes as he chuckles. “All hail (y/n)!”

The group continues to chant Eddie’s statement, banging their fists on the table as they praise you. You roll your eyes playfully at their antics before standing up to take a bow.

Suddenly, you freeze, and all commotion in the cafeteria comes to a halt as a well dressed man strode his way towards you.

Through all your time in his office, you recognize the man instantly.

“Principal Higgins,” Mike breathes out as he glances towards you worriedly.

“(y/n), to my office, now.”

You turn around slowly, slumping your shoulders as you follow his orders.

“Yes, dad.” You groan inwardly.

But as you catch sight of Eddie giving you a smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief, you can’t help but feel the pride swell in your chest.

Detention, suspension, community service, or even having to clean up the garage, whatever punishment your father had in store for you would be worth it.

[ackermanshoe]

"Mikasa?!"

"get your shit together"

"we are the only ones who can stop Eren"

Well smart ppl, this is the first time in the entirety of attack on titan Levi "snapped" towards Mikasa. The look on his eyes it's so full concern, did he know what was happening to her? Did he realise it was her headache or did he think it was Eren doing something?

Maybe he snapped bc he was absolutely tired of Erens shit and mikasa's hesitation towards him. Maybe he was so worried that he couldn't get his words to come out? "Get your shit together" is such a Levi think to say if he said "are you okay?" It would be so out of character.

I know I don't need to explain this as we are all aware that Levi's way with Mikasa is like none other, right? Eg when he snapped at historia for not being able to give a straight answer to the biggest decision of her life - more: he often snaps at hanji despite them being friends for years etc.

It also makes me wonder how Levi is so in touch with reality, he's right next to her, could it be that his presence helped Mikasa come back to hers and finally decide to end Eren?

"a theory isn't a fantasy, it's a coherent set of ideas intend to explain something.." and this is me theorising so stay with me. The Ackerman's who had their inhumane power activated are Levi Mikasa and Kenny. Kenny met his tragic end with Yuri, Levi met his tragic end with Erwin and now it is clearly Mikasa's turn. Ik it wasn't obvious but when Kenny Ackerman lost his liege he was completely alone then eventually he had died off. Isn't it funny how the only two Ackerman's to have had years side by side were Mikasa and Levi? It's just my belief that Erwin's death would have caused more harm on Levi if he hadn't had Mikasa by his side and Mikasa would have been more lost in her delusion or dreams without Levi's consent attempt to bring her back to reality. Eg female titan arc.

Even after killing Zeke Levi never found true happiness, was it really the purpose of his life? Definitely not. It almost feels like there's a loose end to tie, possibly with another Ackerman. This is where my theory ( or more questions ) about the shine in his eyes comes in which I will explain later.

I have always seen Mikasa as a doer, who is not indecisive and always goes for the kill. Levi knows that too. This one moment where got her headache and she hesitated to move forward it was a conflict that clearly irretated Levi.

But man if it were anyone else with all their love and care for Mikasa they would have snapped at her ages ago. The patience this man has for Mikasa is unmatched.

Furthermore

"got it"

"Mikasa"

He said this to himself, TO HIMSELF I repeat not to Mikasa or anyone. What does this tell me? It tells me he trusts Mikasa to make the right decision. He knows it's time and he knows that she won't hesitate this time. Remember the gleam in his eyes when Mikasa asked him to help her kill Eren?

It's a gleam of trust and recognition.

To me this is the purest form of support Levi has given not only to Mikasa but anyone at all. It kinda makes me feel soft if I'm being honest but I can't explain that with facts.

Might I mention how how Levi said mikasa's name more in this one chapter than he has said in the entire manga?

( if someone know why he never calls Mikasa by her name please let me know I'm so hung up on that and still wondering what could be the meaning behind it )

It can be said the same with Mikasa calling Levi "captain" several times in the last chapter and possibly this one.

It may be a personal view of mine but the I think there's a lot of significance in calling ones name. But in rivamika's relationship the lack there of name calling makes it much more interesting to theorise. I have always been someone who would hesitate to say my crush's name because I feel like it would be awkward and make the conversation much more intimate. Yeah it's just a theory but most people would avoid using their crushes name because it makes them nervous and the fact their crush exist near them much more realistic. ( Input scene from there first caridge scene where Levi called Mikasa by her name to tell her to protect Eren with all her skills and Mikasa had a drop sweat on her, she was caught off guard by his voice calling her name )

If I was to assume this is what happened with Levi not mentioning mikasa's name ( all that often ) then it kinda makes sense. And now that we have Levi finally calling out her name in the middle of a life or death battle it makes me wonder if he is finally breaking out of a invisible shell and confronting his feelings (?)

Note: "feelings" can be interpreted as romantic AND non romantic. I don't mean to say that I think he is in love with her that's realistically thinking.

Idk how to word this properly but it's like he is becoming more aware of mikasa's importance in his life and vice versa (?)

Ones name is the biggest connection they have with their individuality and the fact that Levi calls her name several times in this particular chapter makes me think it's somehow connected to Mikasa letting go off Eren and choosing herself + Levi and whoever is left to save. I believe Levi already knew this since the moment the gleam came into his eyes, like I mentioned many many many times Levi knows things about Mikasa before she does. For Levi it's like looking into a mirror that goes backwards in time.

If I'm going to talk more about the gleam in Levi's eyes I might as well put it all down on the table and you can view it however you want.

Remember this

"is it from hope or despair that this strength comes from?"

Well the gleam to me represents hope, not only for the survival of them two by killing Eren, but for Mikasa herself, finding herself MIGHT just be the gleam of hope Levi's strength came from. Individuality. This is more like forshadowing the future than the present.

It also reminds me of S1 when Levi's eyes gleamed when Eren expressed his hatred towards the titans. The look of obsession, to kill the titans and now mikasa's determination to kill Eren ( her obsession).

If I'm being a delulu then yes I do think he is in love with her and nothing less 🤩 and this look^^ above is so sexy can they just idk send me the wedding invitation already I'm 🕯️😔🕯️ tired of waiting.

Anyways I'm going to end this here I feel like I write so much and if anyone asked me what this was all about in real life I would prolly run away rather than speaking. Thank you guys for being here and supporting me and everyone else! I hope the last chapter is at least 100 pages long because we need it 😭🕯️😭.

Edit: I apologize for making this so long I was going to post it like tomorrow but I think it will makes sense if I do it now rather than later.

Also regarding the snapping bit I honestly think it's just because the way he speaks it comes out as harsh which is natural for his character we already know he cares so much about her, he was panicking guys.

[sunny-deez-nutz]

Do i trust them holding my drink? (Slashers)

Summary: Ahhh ok so i saw multiple ppl do this and i thought id put my 2 cents into the subject 🖐😩 anyways pretty self explanatory tho i rate them based on if i would trust them with my drink at a party

Warnings: none really just alcohol and drugs??? (Not the maun focus of this but yk) also its late and im to lazy to proof read this so ignore spelling errors

~Jason 🖐😩💕💕💕~

Yes ☑ - I feel like seeing hiw he's the sweet boi he us would protect it with his life. If in this totally unlikely scenario Jasons at a party with you i feel like he watching the groups drinks like a hawk. So rest assured your drink us safe with him!

~Michael the mf stallion~

Maybe??? - I feel like it could go one of two ways and only one of these two ways 1. He doesn't care ine bit and just sets it down while he just lurks in the bathroom or 2. He would stand at the vary back holding the drink with an iron grip and making direct eye contact with anyone that come near

~Tiffany valentine ꨄ~

Yes ☑ - OFC YOU CAN TRUST HER WITH UR DRINK!!! Somebody give her #1 gf award. She'll hold your drink while fighting off anyone that even tries anything sus ඩා. She also has you back in every sense of the word and would never let anything happen to you! (God i love this woman 🖐😭)

~Freddy Kruger 😒~

No.⌧ - This man is the reason you need someone to hold your drink while you go to the bathroom. This man probably shits date r*pe drugs

~Billy Lenz~

Maybe??? - he's either the one drugging your drink or he's protecting your drink from other pervs because there's only room for one purv in your heart and its reserved for Billy 🖐😤. There's no in between either so take caution with handing him ur drink it really just depends on what kinda mood he's in

~Brahms he heelshire~

Mostly yes ☑︎ - Momma raised a gentleman ☝😌. Besides kinda like Billy there's only room for one person in your life and its reserved for him and hin only. He wouldn't ket anyone hurt you let alone take you away from him. And if he catches anyone even try anything god have mercy on their poor soul 🖐😭. The only thing u would have to watch for is him "accidentally" drinking the whole thing while your not looking. Dw he'll buy you another tho!

~Stu my man~

Absolutely ☑︎ - He's been to his fair share of parties and is very familiar with party safety rules especially when it comes to drink holding. He'll wait at the table or or area the groups at to protect the drinks while everyone uses the restroom or is gone from their drinks. Also the groups body guard i feel like he would be lowkey protective over the group especially the gals (since thats whos usually being targeted). Along with Jason and tiff he's one of the best choices to hand your drink to :)

~Vincent Van Sinclair (get it.... 🥲)~

Yes!!!☑︎ - Will protect your drink with his life. He's very aware of date r*pe drugs (bo prolly has used them before for capturing tourists) and tbh doesn't think highly at all about ppl who use them. He prolly thinks that its sleezy and only ok when Ambrose business other wise he loathes ppl who take advantage of ppl in that way, after all he's a man of class ☝😌

~Bo Sinclair~

Yes☑︎ and no⌧ - Yes if you've known him for a while and like y'all are cool yk. If y'all are already homies or something else he's a protective dude. No if you're just some random party goer watch your drink around him if this is the case

~My darling Lester 🥺~

Yes☑︎ -He would never do anything bad to you 🖐😭. Lester is a sweetheart and yes im sure he can be purvy at times he would never do such a thing like tainting you're drink whatsoever. Vincent prolly passed down his values on the matter to him

Anyways that's all! Im sorry if this was Boring 🖐😭 but I've been thinking about thus a lot recently for some unknown reason and i just felt inspired to post it. Anyways im off for now ciao luvs 💕💕💕

[i-did]

hi mlm here. so i want to write andreil smut but im a virgin so i have no idea what exactly sex is like. but i do not want to write it for the.... straight women gaze. what are some things that are accurate to write about. this is prolly super nsfw but i dont know who to ask.

Okay so this response took me literally months, and I'm sorry about that. I honestly was so excited when I got this question. I don't know why I put off responding?? But here I go: 

CW for discussion of NSFW, STD’s, and a lil homophobia

I bet a lot of people who write smut are virgins tbh, that's not to insult anyone or anything, but like writing is a non physical way to explore sex and fantasies by yourself, so you’re definitely not alone lol.

So you're MLM and want to write smut, (and others who want to get my opinions on writing non-fetishistic smut).

Porn is porn and can have unrealistic circumstances to fulfill said fantasy, such as anything from people messing around in locker rooms to tentacles.

To get a general sense of what is common in MLM sexuality, (rather than the typical feminine gaze that is seen in smut) looking at gay porn and gay porn categories is good insight. 

Bear culture, muscle culture, leather culture, etc. 

These are obviously still porn and unrealistic, however being attracted to sweat, jockstraps, and muscles is very common outside of porn. 

Bear culture is a body-positive movement that started because of the gay community's fat-phobia, age-phobia, and overall shittyness about body hair. 

Leather culture is also really big, it started because of the belief that gay men couldn’t be dominant or “masculine”, even in bed. So in America, leather culture was a way a lot of MLM embraced themselves. 

Going to pride, you will see many men wearing those leather harnesses, it doesn't indicate a preference of topping or bottoming necessarily, they're just something mlm wear and has grown quite popular in the culture, I've known some men to say it feels like a security blanket for them. 

And I think it’s very important to understand these cultures or at least be aware of them on a base level if you’re going to write gay porn. 

Also looking at erotic MLM art made by men, there is Tom of Finland, who was very historically significant, and is the most famous erotic gay artist. There is gay literature, one that openly talks about sex quite frankly is the book “We Both Laughed In Pleasure: The Selected Diaries of Lou Sullivan” which is a series of diary excerpts from a real gay trans man where you follow his life up until he died during the aids epidemic. He talks about sex with partners and discovering himself as well as what being a gay man means to him. He has a real love for sex in a way that is very unashamed and interesting to read about. We know that he wrote the latter half of his diaries with the plan of compiling them and publishing them but he passed away and people in his life carried out this wish for him. He is considered a significant part of gay and transgender history because of this, and his diaries are in LGBT museums. 

Reading gay poetry, looking at gay art, erotic, romantic, grungy, whatever, and you will find and see how they portray things differently than when it’s not portrayed by gay men usually. I mean there is a clear difference between yaoi and bara and that's the audience and authors. Some yaoi are made by MLM, (well technically their called gei comi, or gay comics in Japanese)

“Also known as ‘gei comi’ or ‘men's love,’ bara comics are by men, for men. There is a yaoi equivalent to this, and it is called ‘gachi muchi’-- it is written by women, for women.” – myanimelist.net (lol)

 but more than 90% aren't. I haven't ever heard of a non-MLM bara artist, but I'm sure there's at least one. 

Of course, I've seen things depicting MLM just together pretty realistically that didn't feel like it was written by someone who definitely wasn't MLM, but these scenes tend to be more writing in the general sense of art in the general sense rather than porn, which has a huge gap in characteristics between stuff usually written by MLM vs when it's written by women. (sorry about the binary language here)

I know some people don't like any realism in their porn, but I personally really like small details such as prep being mentioned, foreplay, even acknowledgment of the existence of condoms even if they choose to go without.

Especially as an MLM who lives in America currently, the ever-present acknowledgment and stigmatism of AIDS is around us. We think about it, even when we don't want to. An entire generation of MLM, trans people, and a lot of POC were wiped out. Not necessarily a PWP detail, but including discussion of prep, PrEP (the anti HIV medication) and/or getting tested, even for diseases besides HIV, is a small detail that I think is nice. MLM often have to have a moment when opening up a conversation about sex where HIV is mentioned, our dating apps and hook up apps have sections where you put positive, negative, non-transmissible/undetectable, or prefer not to say. The books take place in 2006 so PrEP didn't exist yet, but also the aids pandemic was happening when they were being born and as young kids, so it wasn't that long ago in society's mind. It's still illegal for many trans people and MLM to donate blood despite that the blood is screened for diseases after donation. 

Also, some realism I like is when a character isn't getting their ass ate first in the morning. Like, for me that's a huge turn-off because I think “holy fuck hygiene.” specifically with anal play I just really think even casually mentioning “washing up” or basic prep, or if you want more accuracy/details mention time between last meals or “x only ate a salad, so he would be fine”. It's like a joke in the gay community to eat chili fries or some shit on a date to indicate that either there will be no anal, or if there is you’re not going to be the one to do it, because you just fuckin ate those fries to say so. 

A cock just going in without prep and no condom is going to A) hurt very bad the body does not do that naturally and can cause injury B) get shit dick.

An also not sexy detail that is common for sex is just laying down a towel so you don’t have to wash sheets. Lube on hands? Wipe off on the towel that you’re on rn. Laying down a towel is pretty normal especially for anal. But this is if you’re going for a much more playing for accuracy sex scene. 

Honestly just writing fingering and prep and stuff like that in my opinion goes a long way and also gives the audience more to read. 

Also, sex is way more than peen in hole. Get creative, frottage, mutual masturbation, docking? Idk like thigh fucking, fucking buttcheeks but not hole, handies, blowies, anal oral, Neil doesn’t have to be the only one who gets his ass ate and things don’t have to follow formulas, in fact, they’re better when they don’t. 

Sex comes in many forms, and like I’ve definitely been with someone and he took off his shirt and I was like what, because he was skinny and clean-shaven and I didn’t expect him to have nearly as much chest hair as he did. I bet honestly Neil has a massive bush, like fuckin, massive. 

Andrew and Neil don’t have to like everything the same amount, Neil could be like “I wanna lick your armpit” and gets really off on it, Andrew is neutral but likes that Neil likes it and agrees even if it does nothing for him physically. Honestly, Neil having a sweat kink imo is pretty fitting lol. 

Try not to categorize the characters into “the bottom” and “the top”, or “the man” and “the woman”

This is something I see a lot and pay attention to how “the bottom” tends to adopt traits that are seen in straight porn that are over-exaggerated. I’m not saying it's inherently wrong to write someone as slim, but we know Neil isn't delicate, but I personally wouldn't categorize him as slim. He's a college-level athlete and is definitely muscular and defined, he has some bulk at least, he isn’t model lean for sure imo. You also often see PWP where the bottom makes a bunch of noise and the top makes none, or the top grunts and the bottom mewls, these are things I personally feel gives the bottom the role of a woman in porn. I don’t think Andreil have rough sex necessarily, but I do think when Neil does make noise, it would be because it was practically punched out of him by the feeling, and would sound more like a gasp than a kitten or whatever. There's nothing wrong with writing them both grunting, both of their voices being lower. Someone bottoming doesn’t suddenly magically not have secondary sex characteristics and stubble and body hair or a deep voice or however, they’re like everywhere else. 

When I read an over-emphasis on Neil’s slim waist and swaying hips and ass I’m like,,, okay someone please mention Andrew looking at Neil’s dick or bulge or shoulders. As an MLM, what do you find hot about men? I like stomachs and arms and shoulders, jawlines, collarbones, asses yes but like in a different way than how I like women’s asses (I’m bi lol) they are smaller and I like them muscled and squared almost. I look at veins on hands and noses and shoulders and backs, I look at a lot and I honestly don't have a type. But yeah so think about what you like, why you like it, what you might want. Or look at what others like, and why and how they want and like it.

what would Neil like, how would he feel about it? And Andrew. I kinda feel like Andrew is low-key masc 4 masc but that's just me lmaoo. Anyways, good luck writing. 

[satsuma-saturn]

Ive been feeling down could you do some satan comfort? Like im just so overwhelmed and when im like this i either get mad or depressed.

I Am Not A Robot - Satan x Reader

A/N: Dude, I feel you on the being overwhelmed bit. I didn’t really know what route to take this, but I know when I’m laying awake at night, my mind wanders. I was listening to Call Me Kevin videos while writing this and almost wrote in random words that he was saying and that wouldn’t make any actual sense in the fic 💀 I also prolly should’ve waited to write this, since it’s super late and I just want to sleep, but I did want to get this posted, or else it was gonna take awhile before I got to it. Anyway, hope you enjoy, Anon! If it’s not up to your standards, feel free to shoot me a message. I could’ve gone a little more in depth about the reader’s thoughts and feelings, but I just wanted to keep it short and sweet.

WC: 1007

Warning(s): Idk, just general depression ig? Nothing specific tho

Another sleepless night. Moonlight peeked through the curtains, illuminating your face and dark circles. You hadn’t had decent sleep in...well, you couldn’t remember. Staying awake all night left you alone with your thoughts, consuming you. You sat up, running shaky fingers through your unbrushed locks. Your hands slid down from your head, down your face as you groaned. Maybe you needed to do something to take your mind off of the thoughts invading your mind. The library, maybe? Delving into a land of fantasy didn’t sound like a bad way to distract yourself.

Swinging your legs over your bed, you stood up, stretching. With a quick glance at the clock, it was some time after two, you strode out into the hall, shutting your door behind you. You walked down the hall, past the brothers’ rooms. As you passed Leviathan’s room, you could hear some tune from some game, probably. He needed to sleep, but you would be a hypocrite to say anything. None of the other brothers seemed active, though, which didn’t surprise you. They had normal sleeping schedules.

Finally approaching the library, you saw a dim light flooding under the door. Someone probably forgot to turn off all of the lights, the culprit most likely being Satan, since he was the one most often in the library. There was no way he hasn’t read all of the books in the library, being alive as long as he has, yet he was still always in there, reading. He even went in there to read when he was reading ebooks. You found yourself joining him often, trying to hide your little crush on him. With a small sigh, you pushed open the door, you stepped inside, not noticing that you weren’t alone. In fact, you didn’t notice until you heard someone clearing their throat. You jumped, startled by the noise.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” It was Satan. He was curled up in a chair, a book propped open in his hands. His eyebrows were high on his forehead as he stared at you, waiting for your response.

“I…” You weren’t sure how to respond. Because you were human, unlike the brothers, they tended to get pissy when you weren’t taking care of yourself. “I could say the same to you, Satan. Why are you in the library so late at night?” Your arms cross over your chest as you wait, pleased with yourself for turning it back on him.

Chuckling he shut his book, setting it on the coffee table in front of his chair. He stood up, striding over to you. “I have an eternity to sleep. You have around a hundred years, give or take a few. Copying your actions, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Again I’ll ask, shouldn’t you be asleep?” Cyan eyes, illuminated by the dim lamp light, bored into your soul as he waited for you to respond. A small, smug grin ghosted his face, as he knew you couldn’t retort.

You sighed, flopping into the nearest armchair. “I couldn’t sleep. Trust me, I’ve been trying for hours. I just...I dunno, I guess I just have a lot on my mind. I thought I’d come here to find some book to read, try to take my mind off of things. I didn’t really expect to come across you here. I thought you were asleep.”

He was silent for a moment, appearing to be lost in thought. “Well, I am here. I couldn’t sleep either, but I don’t technically need it to live. Did you know that it only takes three days of not sleeping for a human to begin hallucinating? The human body will shut down at some point, forcing sleep.”

“I sleep at night, just not very long,” you retorted, not wanting to be lectured about sleep.

“I’m just saying,” Satan said, raising his hands in defense. “Look, if you’re not going to sleep, you may as well come sit with me.” He sat back down, choosing to sit on a couch, instead of the arm chair he’d previously been sitting in. “Come sit over here.” His hand rested on the space directly next to him. You got off the arm chair, taking a spot near him on the couch. It wasn’t quite where he was indicating for you to sit, but your heart might have exploded out of your chest if you sat that close. Since you didn’t sit next to him, he apparently made the decision to sit next to you, as he scooted over stopping when his thigh was touching yours. “What? You don’t wanna sit next to me?”

When he was next to you, you made the bold decision to rest your head on his lap. He didn’t attempt to make you move, so you figured it was alright. “No, I do want to sit next to you. I just sat down here.”

Satan grunted in response, his nimble fingers finding purchase in your hair. “When was the last time you washed your hair?” He asked, rubbing circles into your scalp. “I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he said, not giving you a chance to answer. “You can worry about that later. It’s clear you need some comfort, and lecturing you won’t help. Just...just try to get some sleep, okay? You are far from well rested and humans need proper sleep to function.”

“Okay,” was all you replied with, closing your eyes. You weren’t ready to fall asleep yet, but his fingers against your scalp felt nice, soothing.

“No matter what’s going on in that little human brain of yours, your health is of utmost importance. You have to take care of yourself.” His breath tickled your hair as he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead. “You aren’t a robot. A simple reboot won’t fix you and I can’t fix you. I can only stand in your corner and be here to comfort you when you need it. Now, get some sleep, or I’ll get Belphegor to help you sleep.”