#space books my absolute beloved

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Space!! part 1

We all love space, right? I certainly love space, and I'm always on the hunt for a good space book. What you've got here is a pretty wild mix of everything from fun and adventurous space opera to horrific and brutal space horror - hopefully all the space fans can find something to enjoy!

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

The Long Way To a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper just got a job on the motley crew of the Wayfarer, a spaceship that works with tunneling new wormholes through space. With a past she wants to leave behind, Rosemary is happy to travel the far reaches of the universe with the chaotic crew, but when they land the job of a life time, things suddenly get a lot more dangerous. A bit of a tumblr classic in its day, this is a cozy space opera with an episodic feel and vividly realized characters and cultures. While pretty light on romance and focusing found family, there is a main f/f relationship.

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi

Ascension follows Alana Quick, an expert Sky Surgeon who stows away on a spaceship in hopes of landing herself a job. But the ship and its crew are in deeper waters than she expected, facing threats emerging from a whole other universe, all of them searching for the same person: Alana’s spiritually enlightened sister. Undeniably a bit of an odd read, Ascension is also very creative and features polyamorous lesbian relationship.

Illuminae (The Illulminae Files) by Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff*

Young adult told through the medium of transcripts, text messages and the like (this is one of few books where I highly recommend reading a physical copy over a digital or audio copy as the visual aspect is much more enjoyable like that). After their colony is attacked, the surviving inhabitants flee on spaceships, attempting to avoid the pursuing killers while also dealing with a deadly maddening plague on board and a ruthless ship AI seemingly losing its mind.

Kea's Flight by Erika Hammerschmidt & John C. Ricker

Young adult. Kea has been in exile since before she was born. In a future where abortion has been forbidden, Earth has found a new way of handling unwanted children: send them off to space to colonize new planets. Kea has lived her entire life on a spaceship, surrounded by other kids rejected for 'flaws' in their genetic makeup, Kea herself being on the autism spectrum. The ship follows a strict authority, but when a new threat appears, Kea and her friends must rise up to ensure they make it to their new home.

The Loneliest Girl in the Universe by Lauren James*

Young adult. Romy is the only survivor on a spaceship headed toward a new planet, her only contact with other people being messages sent to and from Earth which take months to arrive. Then she receives news: another ship has been sent, one which is more advanced than hers and will eventually catch up. Ecstatic about the prospect of meeting other people, Romy begins communicating with J, the sole passenger of the other ship, and finds herself developing feelings for him. But Romy knows nothing about J, and have begun receiving worrisome messages from Earth...

Ancillary Justice (Imperial Radch universe) by Ann Leckie*

A space opera in which sentient spaceships can walk the ground in stolen human bodies, so called ancillaries. One of these ancillaries, the sole survivor after the complete destruction of her ship and crew, is on the hunt for revenge against the leader of the Empire for her crimes. This series does very cool things with gender and culture!

The Stars are Legion by Kameron Hurley

Zan wakes without memory, a passenger aboard one of the living world-ships of Legion, a fleet of decaying generations ships. Told she's the salvation meant to free them from the fleet, Zan is flung head first into a brutal and bloody conflict. This book fucked me up when I read it. It’s weird, it’s gross, there’s So Much Viscera, there are literally no men, it has living spaceships and biotech but in the most horrific way imaginable. Had I to categorize it I would call it grimdark military sf. It’s an experience but not necessarily a pleasant one.

Ninefox Gambit (The Machineries of Empire) by Yoon Ha Lee*

Disgraced Captain Kel Cheris is given a second chance by allying with and becoming the host for undead Commander Shous Jedao, who in life never lost a battle, but also went mad and massacred his own army. Now, Cheris must decide just how far she can trust him, with her forces as well as with her sense of self. Military space opera where belief and culture shape the laws of reality, causing all kinds of atrocities as empires do everything in their power to force as many people as possible to conform to their way of life to strengthen their technology and weapons. It’s also very queer, with major gay, lesbian and trans characters, albeit little to no romance.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship’s leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed workforce as they travel through space toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship’s sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

172 Hours on the Moon by Johan Harstad*

Young adult horror. NASA is finally returning to the moon, and to gain the needed funding and attention they hold a world-wide lottery: three teenagers will get to travel to a recently revealed moon base alongside the trained astronauts. For Antoine, Midori, and Mia, this is the chance of a lifetime. But there's a reason NASA stayed away from the moon for so long, and while three teens may be going there, only one will return... This book scared the shit out of me as a teen, recommended for slowburn mix of supernatural and sci-fi horror.

Children of Time (Children of Time series) by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

Millennia and generation spanning sci-fi. After the collapse of the earthen empire, a planet once part of a project to uplift other species to sentience is left to develop on its own, resulting not in the intelligent monkeys once intended but in sentient giant spiders. Millennia later, what remains of humanity arrives looking for a new home, only to be met by the ancient, artificial remains of the woman who once led the uplift project - and she is not willing to let them disturb her spiders, or her planet, no matter how desperate they are.

All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries) by Martha Wells*

After having hacked its own governor module, SecUnit uses its small amount of new freedom to secretly download and watch as much media as it can between doing its job guarding humans. But when the scientists it’s been charged with keeping safe come under attack, it must make a choice about whether to continue keeping its freedom secret or risk it all to save them. The series features both novellas and full length novels, and balances humor with scathing critique of capitalism.

Dust (Jacob's Ladder series) by Elizabeth Bear

In a dying spaceship, orbiting an equally dying sun, noblewoman Perceval waits for her own gruesome death. Having been captured by an opposing house, her wings severed and life forfeit, Perceval's execution is imminent - until a young servant charged with her care proves to be Perceval's long lost sister. To stop a war between houses likely to doom them all, the two flee together across a crumbling, dangerous spaceship. And at its core waits Jacob Dust, god and angel, all that remains of what the ship once was. And he wants Perceval.

Binti (Binti trilogy) by Nnedi Okorafor

Young adult novella. Binti is the first of the Himba people to be accepted into the prestigious Oomza University, the finest place of higher learning in all the galaxy. But as she embarks on her interstellar journey, the unthinkable happens: her ship is attacked by the terrifying Meduse, an alien race at war with Oomza University.

A Big Ship at the Edge of the Universe (The Salvagers) by Alex White

In a universe where science and magic work hand in hand, Boots Elsworth makes a living selling fake treasure maps and Nilah Brio is a racer. When one of Boots' maps turns out to be more real than expected and Nilah has to go on the run after having been framed for a murder, the two find themselves on the same spaceship, working with Boots' old captain to find the rumored treasure and reveal the conspiracy it's hiding before the people hunting them catch up. Features a main f/f relationship.

The Vanished Birds by Simon Jimenez

A strange child lands on an isolated planet, scaring its inahbitants into handing him over into the hands of Nia Amani. As captain of a transport ship, Nia is not only the planet's only contact with the outside world, she is also a woman outside of time, years compressing into months as she travels through space at high speed. Now responsible for a child who doesn't speak and in a galaxy that wishes them ill, she must rethink exactly what she wants to do with her life, and what she's prepared to give up. Features multiple major queer characters.

Eacaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus duology) by Nicky Drayden

Seske is the heir to the leader of a clan living inside a gigantic, spacefaring beast, of which they frequently need to catch a new one to reside in as their presence slowly kills the beast from the inside. While I found the ending rushed with regards to plot and character, the worldbuilding is very fresh and the overall plot of survival and class struggle an interesting one. It’s also sapphic!

Dead Silence Here by S.A. Barnes

Horror. As her current mission as team leader for a small repair crew in distant space nears its end, Claire grows desperate to find a way to not have to return to a life on Earth. When the crew picks up a distress signal from Aurora, a luxury cruise ship thought lost decades ago, she sees a chance to make enough money on salvage to buy her own ship. But Aurora is housing horrifying secrets beyond its cold hull, and Claire's own past is coming back to literally haunt her. If she wants to survive, dangerous truths must be revealed.

Activation Degradation by Marina J. Lostetter

Unit Four comes to life in the middle of a war. The mine it was created to care for is under attack, and as Unit Four is activated with the memories of its predecessors, it is thrown into the task of protecting it at any cost. When the battle leads to its capture, it is prepared to do anything to stop its captors, even as their very presence causes it to question all that it knows. Includes multiple major intersex characters.

This Alien Shore by C.S. Friedman

Space opera in which humanity found a way to faster than light travel and began establishing colonies all over the galaxy, only to belatedly realize the method of FTL caused irreversible mutations and disabilities and leaving their nascent colonies to die. Much later, many of the colonies have survived and thrived, and one has found a new method of FTL travel, allowing an interconnected space society to grow. However, Earth is on the hunt for their method and is prepared to do anything to steal it. Trapped in the middle of all this and forced on the run is young Jamisia, who is little by little coming to realize that not only might she be the very solution Earth is after, she’s also not alone in her own mind and body.

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir*

Ryland Grace just woke up from a coma, unable to remember anything. He finds himself alone on a spaceship, the rest of the crew dead, and as his memories slowly trickle back, he realizes he’s been sent on a mission: to find a solution to the impending doom of the earth. Still struggling with holes in his memories, Ryland tries to fulfill his mission, but as he gets closer to his goal, he discovers someone else got there first. And they aren’t anything close to human. Funny, heartfelt, and heavy on the science.

House of Suns by Alastair Reynolds

Six million years in the future, humanity has spread across the entire Milky Way galaxy. Purslane and Campion are both clones of the same woman, sent into the galaxy millions of years ago to explore along with almost a thousand clones like them. Every 200 000 years they all meet to compare memories and experiences. But this time Purslane and Campion arrive late - and discover that a secret millions of years in the making has led to an extinction level attack against their kind. Now they must find out the truth before their line is completely wiped out. Absolutely wild world-building, featuring various kinds of posthumans (among which the clones are, shockingly, the most similar to people of our time).

Empress of Forever by Max Gladstone

Vivian Liao is a highly successful innovator, but she may have bitten off more than she can chew and fears the government is coming for her. As she goes into hiding, she attempts to pull off one last stunt that could fix everything - but something goes wrong, and suddenly Vivian finds herself waking up in the far future, under attack by an army of robots in space. Hoping to find her way back home, Vivian must assemble a crew of dangerous outlaws and outcasts to help her hunt down the Empress of Forever, the all-powerful entity who pulled her into the future. Lesbian main character.

Finder (Finder Chronicles) by Suzanne Palmer

Fergus Ferguson is a finder, and his latest job has just taken him to a small colony in the farthest corner of inhabited space. There he's searching for a stolen spaceship, what he thinks will be an easy job. But things become complicated as Fergus' arrival inadvertently sets off a civil war, forcing him to ally with the thief's enemies to get out alive with his prize. And beyond it all, the ships of a dangerous and mysterious alien species watches over it all, picking people off when least expected.

Space Opera (Space Opera duology) by Catherynne M. Valente

Eurovision in space! If you lose, humanity is doomed! Good luck! The sentient species of the galaxy have chosen to face each other not in war but in a musical contest, and now humanity is invited to partake. The problem? If we lose, our species as a whole will be exterminated. While I found this book as a whole slightly gimmicky, it’s a fun and flashy experience with some wild and creative alien species.

Blindsight (Firefall duology) by Peter Watts*

Vampires and aliens and questions of the nature of consciousnesses, oh my! A ship is sent to investigate the sudden appearance of an alien vessel at the edge of the solar system, but the crew isn’t prepared for the horrors awaiting them. No, seriously, this book will fuck you up, highly recommend if you’re okay with a lot of techno babble and existential horror.

The Outside (The Outside trilogy) by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existential crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired sci-fi where reality is warped and artificial gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them: Dare Mighty Things by Heather Kaczynski, Chilling Effect by Valerie Valdes, Medusa Uploaded by Emily Devenport, We Are Legion (We Are Bob) by Dennis E. Taylor, The Genesis of Misery by Neon Yang

[undreaming-fanfiction]

My brain refuses to sleep, so more drabbling! Probably modern-ish AU?

Steve makes a career for himself as a re-decorator (or de-decorator, as he loves to call himself). His clientele are those celebrities who rose to fame so quickly they have plenty of money, but they don't have time to make their houses feel like home. They just bought penthouses and mansions and now live in homes that are fancy, but they feel like hotels.

Steve is there to fix that.

One of his clients is the hard working rockstar Eddie Munson whose life path went from a trailer park to couch surfing to living with 4 people in a tiny apartment, then suddenly tours, hotels and boom! He has a house that looks like an IKEA prop.

He doesn't hide his distaste at the pristine condition of the place (yes, Eddie has a cleaner). "Oh god. A beige carpet?" he scoffs and he sounds so bitchy Eddie decides he likes him already.

He likes him even more when Steve puts on reading glasses. Damn.

Over coffee, they discuss what Eddie wants. Except Steve doesn't just...tell him. He doesn't give him any hints. He just keeps asking about Eddie's favorite colors, what movies he likes, does he have hobbies apart from music? Can Steve see some of the items that bring him comfort?

And Eddie's surprised. "Shouldn't you, like...be telling me what I'm supposed to want?" he asks the gorgeous man who almost wails when he sees the vase with fresh flowers ("This is the third place in a row that has this fugly thing! Is it like a status symbol? Uh, tasteless.").

And Steve just stares at him. "Uh, Mr. Munson?"

"Eddie."

Steve nods. "Eddie. Why should I have any say in what you want? If you ask me what's practical, easy to clean, what bounces off light well, that's another thing. But in matters of taste...you're the boss. You live here, I don't. (Pity, Eddie thinks) Now, let's change this place into somewhere you actually like staying, hm?"

They spend the whole afternoon talking. Eddie opens up about what he loved before the touring and expectations from his agent took that from him. He talks about the Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy in general, and Steve listens, makes tons of notes and asks questions that make Eddie's heart bleed, such as "and who is your favorite Lord of the Rings character?" and "you mentioned elves, dwarves, orcs, wizards...so what is your favorite group?" and "which DnD class would you be then? I guess a bard? Is that too obvious?". Now, Steve doesn't know much about these things, but learns quickly and works with the info he has.

They walk through the house again, with Steve making notes and wincing at transgressions against humanity or at least against his taste in things ("Oh ew. EW. Glossy finish on a kitchen counter? What is this, a future crime scene?") and Eddie feeling equally amused and curious. Eddie orders dinner for them, it goes something like:

"I don't know what would be appropriate, any preferences?"

"Eddie, there's no time or space when pizza is not appropriate."

"What about a funeral?"

"It puts fun in a funeral."

"Touché."

They follow up on a bunch more things. Steve notices Eddie fidgeting and asks him like the mindreader he is if perhaps the place is too clean for him. "Minimalism is what everyone's trying to push," Steve says, not without sympathy, "but it's not for everyone. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you seem like a person who'd love a more....personal, cluttered space."

And god, Eddie feels so seen. He tells Steve about all his favorite books and trinkets that he lost during a horrible earthquake in Indiana, so when he moved to the city it was just some clothes and his two guitars. Steve makes so many notes. "I've seen quite a lot of collectibles for your beloved trilogy," he says with a hint of a smile. "Is that something you'd like in your home?" Eddie can't nod any faster.

They talk about the budget (Eddie just scoffs at that, for the first time in his life money is not an issue), Eddie's absolute no go things ("No more vases, please! PLEASE. Also maybe the one room that can stay as it is is the studio, there's no decor"), if he has issues touching any materials, if he wants to keep any areas in the house neutral for visitors (he doesn't). Then finally, he asks Eddie if he wants to be more consulted or surprised.

And Eddie, tired and surprisingly relaxed from talking to Steve, just grins and says: "Surprise me, big boy."

Steve just smirks and makes one more note. "Oh, I will, Eddie."

...

Eddie goes on yet another tour for a couple of months, which is the ideal time for Steve to start working on the house.

Steve sometimes texts Eddie random choices, such as "Rohan or Gondor or both?" or "what's the best pub in the Middle Earth?" and Eddie usually trips over his feet trying to get to his phone after concerts to see if maybe he has another message from Steve. He learns bits and pieces about the man as well - he has a younger brother, Dustin, who is into the same stuff that Eddie is. Sometimes it goes like this:

STEVE: What's the best battle in the LotR movies?

EDDIE: The Ride of the Rohirrim, duh!

STEVE: Dustin says you're wrong, it's the last stand at the gates of Mordor.

EDDIE: The disrespect to king Théoden!

And finally, the big day comes. Eddie meets with Steve at the door. From the outside, the house still looks boring, but that's what they agreed on. At least for now.

But there's one notable difference and Eddie gasps when he sees it.

"I know we said no changes on the outside," said Steve sheepishly, "but I took the liberty to make one slight change."

Where the door used to be bland and white, it is now carved with silver etchings. It replicates the Doors of Durin. Eddie loves it.

Steve smiles at him. "Speak friend and enter, right? Dustin told me. Anyways, are you ready?"

Turns out, Eddie wasn't ready. Steve took all of the shiny and sterile surfaces and turned them into something beautiful.

The kitchen is now in warmer colors, brown and green, imitating the Green Dragon inn, plaque included.

Guest rooms have been changed, each to represent a group or a nation of the Middle Earth. Eddie thinks his uncle will love the Rohirrim one.

No more vases are to be seen, but Steve got potted plants ("almost immortal, as long as your housekeeper waters them once a week or so").

Eddie howls in laughter when he sees that Steve somehow managed to disguise all his security cameras as tiny eyes of Sauron.

The bathroom is inspired by the Rivendell, with soft tones and nods to Elvish architecture.

Eddie's bedroom resembles the Shire, with round shapes and homely motifs.

But Eddie's absolute favorite is the living room.

The only things that remain there that he bought are the massive TV and his stereo system with records. The rest though...

Gone is the ugly and sharp couch that looked like a geometry exercise. The new one is large and comfortable, with a couple of armchairs to finish the cozy feel. The coffee table and TV stand are more rough looking, with decorative ironwork. And then, around the room and on the walls...

"Oh wow," whispers Eddie and Steve beams at him.

There are collectibles and figurines that young Eddie Munson would have killed for. A replica of the Narsil hangs over the TV. It's cluttered but tasteful, still easy to clean, but Eddie always has something to touch, to play with.

And then he spots the bookcase and actually sobs. "What the fuck, Steve?" he asks, but there's no anger, just awe. "How did you know?"

The bookcase is full of Eddie's most beloved books, all that he told Steve about and more, but it's not just that. These aren't just pristine new prints - Steve managed to get both those and well-loved used copies. Most of them are the same editions that Eddie had before the earthquake. He runs his trembling finger over the back of the Hobbit and it feels like home.

"That was the hardest part," says Steve and leaves Eddie to rummage through the books, the old DnD guides and used comic books. "But I assumed you're sick of new and shiny. In fact, most of the collectibles are already used as well. They have some history. As for the books, uh..." He scratches his neck, embarrassed. "I will be honest, I don't read much. Dyslexia and some issues with the eyes, although audio books are making it more possible for me now. So I had to ask Dustin for help. We looked for editions published before the earthquake. I hope we got some of them right?"

Eddie just mutters "Sorry, I'm about to do something really unprofessional now" and pulls Steve into a bear hug. And Steve reciprocates.

"Fuck, this...this is everything," says Eddie into his shoulder. "How did you do this? Are you magic. You must be magic."

Steve grins. "I take it the surprise was a success then?"

Eddie finally pulls back. He would have loved to keep embracing Steve for a bit longer, but boundaries. "A total one. Wow. I mean. It's a lot, but so good. SO GOOD. How can I repay you?"

"You already paid me, Eddie."

"You know what I mean!" Eddie points and the books and apparently also a DVD collection he now owns. "This must have been so much more work than you normally do, no? I doubt every client has you memorize the members of the Fellowship."

"Not just that, but also why Sam is the best," Steve smiles at him and fuck. Eddie might be in love. "It was more than usual, but I loved it, Eddie. That's why I like my job so much, helping people find themselves again. You don't owe me anything. Although, if you're offering..."

"I'm listening."

Steve runs his fingers through that majestic hair. "So, I didn't tell Dustin that I was decorating the house for you, but he's a huge fan of your music. Like, massive, has every album, has been following your career from the start. And feel free to tell me it's too much, you are my client after all, but...he'd love to meet you. Over a pizza, maybe? The plain ham and cheese one you like so it doesn't have too many flavors?"

And Eddie melts. Because Steve still remembers his pizza choice from months ago, even though this definitely wasn't in his notes. He decides there and then that Steven Harrington is a national treasure.

"Sure, big boy," he smiles at Steve, and hopes he didn't imagine Steve leaning into the touch. "How about you invite him over for a movie night or something? With pizza of course."

It looks like Steve could kiss him, but he doesn't. Not yet. That only happens a week later, when they bump into each other in Eddie's kitchen when they scramble to make more popcorn for Dustin.

Steve stays the next night. And maybe a few after that. Always in a different themed bedroom.

They travel for work a lot, but when they are both in Chicago, they always meet in the Green Dragon kitchen, cuddle in the bed that would be far too large for a hobbit, and in the night, Eddie wraps himself around Steve and whispers: "My preciousssss."

And Steve can't really complain, because it's his fault that his boyfriend has re-discovered his dorkiness, so why would he mind?

[apaperswan]

I must say, one of my absolute favourite scenes in #iwtv is the tap dancing at Grace's wedding. It's the last moment of true happiness and family for Louis, the last hurrah before everything goes down. It is not only Paul's death, it is the loss of his community, the things that used to keep him whole and connected to the world.

For a Black creole man in NOLA in the 1910s, that very community meant safety, meant life, memory, validation, care and a sense of identity. The sense of eradication and loss that Louis in the book feels as a white land owner here becomes much more powerful, much more significant. Louis has lost the only space where he could feel loved and whole. Paul's death enacts not only Louis' journey to his vampiric self, but most importantly the total loss of a network, an identity, a community. He renounced not only his mortal life but his Blackness. Especially since his chosen companion is a "French white".

With Claudia he finds again that sense of a community that transcends family ties to become a reciprocal recognition of a destiny that is first and foremost a connection to NOLA's roots and the city's past. Yes, Louis feels responsible for the spread of racial violence against the Black community of NOLA, and directly for the consequences on Claudia's life, but he also tries to reconnect with that element of his identity that Lestat could and will never understand.

I think that the tap dancing scene really encompasses who Louis is as a character: a warm, loving and funny man, a beloved member of a community, a man who has secrets and a temper, but he's overall a caring and affectionate man.

Lestat did not only see his temper, his willingness to fight and his ingenious mind, he also got to know a man who can weep at the opera, and be kind to a woman is not attracted to, whose profession did not guarantee her societal approval.

When people wonder what Lestat finds in Louis, why is Louis so special, I think about Grace's wedding and Miss Lily, I think about Paul and Grace. Louis was fervently human, in a non rhetorical way, alive and brimming with love and affection, along with pride, stubbornness and often brusque manners.

[wordsinhaled]

thinking about how much crowley and aziraphale have been getting slammed for their poor communication and on the one hand... absolutely, i agree 100%. they have so much work to do in that department, they are always missing each other when it comes to seeing what they each want from the other and expressing it clearly. but on the other hand... like... encompassing six thousand years into a conversation? six thousand years of knowing each other. six thousand years of gravitating toward one another

like... the bit that really gets me, in crowley's confession, is - "...and we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't. i mean, the last few years, not really" - this implication that like... at least on crowley's part... since they saved the world together he's allowed himself to be more open in how he feels about aziraphale. that in his mind he's already long since chosen Their Side, they've chosen their side in their behavior towards each other, and they've talked about... our car, our shop, but even before that...

we see in the minisodes, the way they already act. they're a pair that shows rather than tells all the time and it's so abundantly clear that everyone around them can see it, is constantly asking about it, assuming it, reading it on them like they're an open book - with everyone but each other.

but like how do you put into clumsy human words how much love you feel for someone who stood next to you while you created the stars? who helped you create them? how do you say openly how you feel to the one person who understands you and your nature better than anyone else, who indulges your every whim because they want to see you happy while everyone else says you were built wrong, you're too indulgent, you're too soft but you're perfect for him, specifically, because you stood at the beginning of the universe together?

like how are they supposed to talk about that? especially when it's so forbidden to talk about that?

there are so few words that truly feel like they properly encompass what love truly and genuinely means? what loving someone TRULY means? how it's giving up your onliness and entrusting yourself into the hands of another, now you're not just you, now you're you but the world is brighter and sharper and more beautiful because of another? how we're all stuck on a spinning rock in the middle of space in the middle of the universe in the middle of the galaxy in the middle of eternity just little grains of sand and then there's another little grain of sand in the scheme of things, but it's the most important one ever created because of how happy it makes you?

but multiply that by six thousand years

so like of course you fucking cry and you stare at each other with tears in your eyes like you're absolutely ESSENTIAL to one another. but like how do you make it work in words when you don't know if there are even words for the prospect of existing without one another? and you have this absolutely incandescent and fragile thing between you that everyone understands to exist, you understand it to exist too, and sometimes it is scary as fuck to admit that you need someone. it is terrifying and uncomfortable and vulnerable and we're just people who live maybe 100 years on this earth? a blink of an eye compared to six thousand years of shared existence?

like...? truthfully i don't think i could talk about it easily either because oh my god that's fucking terrifying. that six thousand years of your comfortable and beloved shared existence could go up in smoke with one misplaced word. like no fucking WONDER he can't get the words out. and no fucking wonder, it's easier to couch things in terms like group and team and everything when you're on the verge of falling apart into a million pieces because the other half of your soul wants to leave you behind. it's easier to say come with me, work with me, be my second in command, than to admit he's first in your heart and mind every second of every day since you saw him bringing light at the beginning of the universe???

just... you know? they need a fucking break. they need a vacation. they need a cottage in the south fucking downs

[bunnyscrypt]

jason todd as a lover <3

sfw

a real lover boy. he's obsessed with you and everything about you, doesn't even try to hide it. everyone can see and feel how much love he has for you. physical touch is definitely one of his love languages —he always has to be touching you, whether it's a grip on your waist or a hand resting on your neck. why look for a chair when he has a perfectly good lap right there? he just wants to feel on you at all times.

rarely calls you by your first name unless he's upset. it's always beloved, baby, habib albi, rouhi, hayati, etc (i will be making a post about all the things he calls you in arabic)

quality time! yes jason loves books and you'd definitely have moments reading together but he also canonically likes punk rock and heavy metal. you two would absolutely have your own concerts in your room listening to joy division, the chameleons, killing joke, and black sabbath etc..

he will teach you arabic. he loves flirting with you in the language, watching with a smirk as you get flustered (and annoyed) cause he knows you don't understand.

(speaking of i do want to expand more on that and even do that "surprising my lover by speaking their language" trend)

c l i n g y. personal space is not in his vocabulary. he can't help that he's addicted to you.

he's one possessive mf!! (so are you) do i even need to say more? but let's not get it twisted. he's not the type to control what you wear or who you talk to or what you do —you're your own person. you can do whatever you want. he knows your his and he's yours so he's not all that worried. besides...... he can fight (and he's strapped)

spoils you to no end. will definitely just give you his card with a kiss on the cheek and tell you to treat yourself to whatever. staring at something a little too long at the store? liked an item on social media? he's already ordering it, he doesn't gaf. if you want something its yours.

late night drives on his motorcycle. you're upset? had a bad day? he's already strapping a helmet on your head, putting you on the back of his bike. “tanks all full, we can drive for as long as you want”

nsfw:

loves every position. he just wants to be with you but missionary and cowgirl are his top favorites. missionary —he loves to look your eyes as he whispers sweet and dirty words to you. watching every expression you make as he hits it deep. cowgirl —that's when its your turn. holding him close, tugging his hair, whispering whatever in his ear as you grind down, forehead touching his.

free use!! but him wanting you to use him whenever you want. sad? just want to be close to him? youre just in the mood? use him, he wants you to. whenever you're hesitant, he just reminds you that “baby im yours. whenever you want, alright. i got you. whenever or wherever you need me"

he is a certified munch. gets off just getting you off. loves when you tug his hair pulling him closer. doesn't even want anything in return, he just wants to taste you. he's a messy eater

praise kink praise kink!!! both ways. wants you tell him how good it feels, will also tell you how good you make him feel.

loves when you act bratty cause he knows you just want him to be rough and fuck the attitude out of you.

a moaner and a talker! will talk in arabic without realizing it sometimes. "take it so well baby" "look at me baby, that's it" "pussy feels so fucking good"

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks�� with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

[khorazir]

“The Wee Free Men”

Lineart of the illustration for chapter 1 of my upcoming Payneland fic The Case of the Stolen Barrow, the second story in my Figuring Out The Rest series. I hope to post the finished art and the first chapter tomorrow.

Like the rest of the fandom, I’m still reeling from yesterday’s cancellation. I’m angry about yet another queer show with wonderful, relatable queer and well fleshed-out female characters, great storylines, costume design, cinematography etc. being sacrificed for and by corporate greed. I’m sad for us fans who are yet again cheated out of what surely would have been a brilliant second season.

But even more than that, I’m sad for cast and crew and all the creatives who poured heart, soul, talent and hard work into this show and seemed to have truly loved it the same way we do. That’s not usual for a show at all. I wish them all the best in their future endeavours, while maintaining a faint hope that we haven’t seen the last of our beloved dead boys and their found family yet.

I really hope the fandom will stick together and stay as amazing as I experienced it to be in the past four months. You’re absolutely aces, folks.

As for my creative endeavours when it comes to Dead Boy Detectives, I feel I have only just started out creating art and fic, and there will definitely be more. I’m a person who is not easily drawn into new fandoms, but when I am, I tend to stick around. I’ve been active in the BBC Sherlock fandom for 14 years, and have been creating art inspired by the works of JRR Tolkien (books only) for over 30. So ... yeah. I’m more inspired than ever to create things inspired by Dead Boy Detectives. So watch this space.

[depravitycentral]

General Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara Profile

Yandere! Jin Bubaigawara x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of masturbation, mentions of non-con, mentions of murder, threats, slight emotional manipulation, Jin is a creep and goes through your stuff, breaking and entering, mentions of horrible men who don't respect women (not our lovely Jin), brief mention of strip clubs, mental breaks/Jin's Splits, fem reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 11K

DARLING PROFILE:

Perceptive

More than anything, Jin looks for a darling that can understand him.

He so desperately craves a human connection full of trust and caring, and having a darling who is able to read him like a book would be absolutely perfect.

He needs someone who is able to tell at a glance what he’s thinking – not getting bogged down by the multitudes of personalities shining through at any given time and instead seeing what the real him is feeling.

He craves someone who can offer him a sense of normalcy, someone who can make him feel like less of a freak, like less of a fuck-up, more like a real man. He grows attached to a perceptive darling quickly, feeling at ease in a way that he normally doesn’t.

They’re just perfect – he feels like he can be himself, letting himself be truly authentic and truly Jin.

It’s a luxury he’s nearly never afforded, his darling creating a safe space for him without even realizing it – something he’s beyond grateful for, and something that keeps him running back to his darling at every turn because it feels so damn good to just let himself go and not hold himself back.

It’s wonderful, and as soon as his darling displays this quality, Jin is helplessly, hopelessly hooked.

Sweet

At his core, Jin is a good person who’s made many bad mistakes.

He’s not a bad person by nature – and as a result, Jin finds himself attracted to people who are similar to him. He wants someone who is genuinely a good person – someone who is nice, sweet, someone who’s heart is generally positive and full of happiness.

And Jin particularly likes when this trait is aimed at him – compliments melt his heart. As soon as the words slip off his darling’s lips, Jin’s gaping at them, his heart racing in his chest and his face feeling hot because when was the last time he was complimented?

 When was the last time someone praised him, the last time they smiled at him like that, the last time they seemed so genuinely happy to see him?

It doesn’t feel real when he first meets his darling, his interest immediately peaked because god, it really feels like they see him, like they understand him.

 It’s euphoric in many ways, leaving his skin prickling in excitement and his stomach fluttering in nerves and pride.

A sweet darling is ideal for him – because even as his obsession festers and his behavior becomes more and more extreme, a darling who remains kind to him will only fuel this infatuation, only pushing him to try harder to win them over, to become more and more desperate to have them as his, just as he begins daydreaming about.

It’s just perfect for him – and he’ll do his absolute best to return the favor, complimenting his beloved as often and as honestly as he can, even if the compliments are more disturbing than flattering.

Calm

Jin needs a darling that can handle his Splits. He needs someone who is not only patient with him, but is also able to take the things he throws at them in stride, not even blinking when Jin falls into a particularly nasty split that’s got him spouting nonsense and panicking.

They need to be able to be calm and help them, assessing the situation and knowing exactly how to talk him down from the episode, to keep him breathing steadily and hold him so that he stays oriented.

He needs a darling that can handle the way his mouth doesn’t seem connected to his brain – random words spilling from his lips that sometimes embarrass him.

When a personality reveals something embarrassing that Jin did as a way to get closet to you, his darling needs to be able to calmly respond, to assess the situation and hopefully come to the conclusion that it’s not true, that there’s absolutely no way that Jin would do something so crazy and strange.

And yet, a calmer darling will be absolutely shocked when they learn that all of the things Jin had divulged without meaning to are true – all of it, down to the stolen socks and stalking to the graphic dreams and preparations of his apartment to make it seem a little more like his darling’s – a little more like them.

A calmer darling is ideal for Jin because he’s simply too excitable and tightly strung to not have a calm darling.

Oblivious

A darling that doesn’t notice the multitude of red flags in his behavior would make Jin’s life much, much easier.

A darling that is oblivious or perhaps blinded by their positive assumptions about people would work in Jin’s favor, because it would allow him to push the boundaries just a bit, just as he does without meaning to, all without having to explain the slip-ups he makes, all without having you grow scared by the way he seems to become more and more present in your life.

He needs a darling who doesn’t realize just how deeply Jin has invaded their life – so they can’t run before he manages to ensnare them, so they can’t leave him and abandon him like he’s so afraid they will.

Plus, there’s something endearing about this trait that Jin just can’t shake.

It makes him feel like a protector, making it easier to convince himself that his darling needs him to be around in order to safely function, to not be taken advantage of by some creep with bad intentions.

It makes justifying his actions much, much easier, lessening the small sense of guilt that eats away at him, lessening the insecurity that pushes him to draw back every once in a while, convinced that he’ll never be good enough for his precious lovely darling.

An oblivious darling would allow him to operate with less secrecy and fear, something that Jin is grateful for. Plus, they’re just so damn cute – cute enough to eat.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Clingy

Once Jin’s feelings for you take root, it’s over.

He’s so broken and lost, quite literally unsure of his place in the world, his purpose, himself. And so once you step into his life, with your pretty face and even prettier voice that says the nicest, most caring things to him, Jin’s reaction is nearly out of his control.

How can he not become absolutely, utterly enraptured with you when you’re so kind to him?

When you smile at him like that, all teeth and appled cheeks and this sparkle in your eye that he can tell isn’t forced, how can he not find himself swooning? How can he not be smitten with you when you look at him like he’s a person, like he’s worth something, like he has value and isn’t just a waste of space?

It’s euphoric, something that makes his pulse race and his cheeks tinge pink, and so of course he’s desperate to spend time with you, to be in your presence and soak up every ounce of you that he possibly can. In the beginning, when his feelings are freshly formed and still having some semblance of normalcy, Jin’s too shy to directly ask you to be with him.

He’ll struggle to look you in the eye, rubbing the back of his neck and letting his gaze flick to you every few seconds as he mumbles out a rushed, awkward, so um, I was uh, wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend…

It’s hard to hear and you’ll ask him to repeat himself, only furthering his embarrassment and making him wince because obviously you’re going to say no – you’re too pretty and smart and sweet for him, why would you ever say yes to a washed-up criminal like him? But before he can even get the chance to respond, he’s blurting out a let me take ya to the theater, yeah? We can get seats in the back where it’s just the two of us.

He’s mortified, immediately clasping a hand over his mouth and his eyes going wide; he didn’t mean it like that! Well, okay, maybe he did, and maybe the idea of being a dim, warm place with comfortable velvet seats and sugary drinks with his body pressed right next to yours is incredibly enticing and enough to make him salivate and pant like some fucking dog –

Except you’ll still say yes, because at this point Jin’s infatuation – while still painfully obvious – seems like just a crush. He’s awkward and flustered around you, but that’s kind of endearing and sweet, isn’t it?

A fully grown man – and one who’s seen more horrors than you can imagine – is bashful over you?

It’ll have you looking past the way that he always seems to show up at the places you frequent, that same nervous and hopeful look on his face as he scans the crowd for your familiar figure.

It’ll have you looking past the way he puts his hand on your back and keeps it there for much, much too long, never moving downwards but always staying firm, as if he’s glued to you, as if separating himself from you is physically painful.

It’ll have you looking past the way he begs you to share just one more glass of cheap booze, telling you that it’s good for you, that it’ll help you relax and destress from that job of yours that you hate.

(Plus, you look so damn cute when you’re tipsy – all clumsy and giggly, your inhibitions lowered so that you don’t notice when his gaze lingers on you for just a beat too long, when his hand skims across your thigh, when he leans in much too close and inhales much too loudly.)

You’ll write off most of Jin’s clingy behaviors with a wave of your hand and an excuse that it’s simply how he processes his trauma. And it’s true, to some extent. Except you don’t know the full extent – you don’t know how he follows you home every night, trying his best to stay quiet as he lurks in the shadows, making sure no one approaches you on your commute back to the quaint little apartment he’d give absolutely anything to share with you.

You don’t know the way he borrows small items of yours, keeping them on his ragged nightstand next to the bare mattress he sleeps on, your hair clips and toothbrushes kept as pristine and safe as he possibly can.

(He’ll pick them up with trembling fingers, scared that even simply touching something of yours will break it, yet simultaneously thrilled that he has something of yours, something of an angel’s.)

You aren’t aware of the way he fantasizes about you constantly, imagining everything from linking your pinkies together to burying his face between your legs. (And in vivid, vivid detail, too – even going so far as to mimic your voice and sit on his own hand so that it'll go numb, just like some teenage boy.)

You’ll write it off, but Jin sees this as permission to push further, to try harder, to test the boundaries of your ‘friendship’ as far as he can without you growing suspicious. He’ll pull you into hugs with higher frequency and longer times, keeping you pressed against his body while he buries his face into your neck and tries not to moan at the smell of you.

He’ll spam your phone with text after text, conveying conflicting messages that showcase just how little control over himself and his split personalities where you’re concerned.

(You’ll have to turn off your ringer permanently with him around – he will drive you insane, the buzzing noise and the obnoxious little bring making you lose your mind. He texts you day and night, your peaceful sleep interrupted with the notification of fifty unread texts from him, ranging from single sentences to near paragraphs.)

He’s not exactly subtle, and while you’ll cling to your excuse of him just being lonely and struggling to cope with his past, eventually you’ll have to realize that Jin isn’t just using you to help him work through his previous experiences – no, he wants more.

He wants you. He needs you, to a degree where his every waking thought revolves around you, and most of his dreams do, too. He’s clingy and needy and always, always demanding your attention, and eventually you’ll find yourself nearly ripping your hair out because you just can’t seem to get a moment of privacy around the blond, his eyes always watching you and his fingers always itching to reach out and touch, to press against your skin, to make sure that you’re real and present and with him.

He just needs the reassurance that you won’t leave him, that you’ll stay with him, that you’ll always be with him – you keep him from splitting after all, and how could he ever thank you?

By being your personal watchdog and eagerly completing each and every request of yours, no matter how depraved or inhumane and dehumanizing. Anything for you.

Obsessive

Tying hand in hand with his clinginess, Jin finds himself drowning in a sea of you once his feelings form. He finds himself so overwhelmed with all the warring desires in his heart – he wants to see you, his fingers twitching and itching to set his eyes on you, to be in your presence and bask in you you you.

But he also wants to spend time laying on his dingy mattress, his eyes closed as he mentally lists all of the things he loves about you, all the things that leave him breathless and blushing and reaching out towards you with trembling hands.

He wants to speak with you, to maybe make you laugh and hear that wonderful laugh of yours all because of something he said, but he’s also too afraid to instigate conversations with you because he’s worried he’ll somehow fuck up and scare you off.

(And just the mere thought of that gets him in a cold sweat, hands gripping at his blond hair and his eyes squeezing shut, lips moving like lightning as he repeats the mantra that you want him you want him you want him… Splits caused by his doubt for your feelings for him are always the worst – they last longer, they leave a more harrowing impact, and – worst of all – he’s so distracted by his feelings that he loses all awareness of his surroundings. He’s no longer aware of the vase nearby, knocking into it and sending the thing shattering against the floor, the sound and the feeling of glass shards pricking at his feet not even pulling him out of his stupor.)

He’s a mess in every meaningful way, and yet the only thing he can regularly, consistently bring himself to do is amass more and more information about you. You’re his own personal drug; one that calms him slightly, that makes him feel more whole – thinking of you is the only thing that can keep him focused, and this manifests itself in many ways.

Mainly, Jin takes to stalking you very, very early on. He’s simply too intrigued and attached to not follow you home, unwilling to let you out of his sight for even a few seconds. He’s worried for your safety, sure, because he’s sure that a sweet, lovely thing like you could never defend yourself should a villain confront you, but that’s not why he’s trailing you in the shadows like some loser, like some freak.

No – the real reason is much more depraved, sadder and more pathetic than Jin himself would like to admit. It’s really because with every moment he watches you, he learns more and more about you.

Each night that he trails you home from work, he’s learning enough things to fuel his dreams that night – you avoid sidewalks with people when it’s late at night, preferring instead to cross the street so that you won’t pass them.

(Not that he’d let anything happen to you – he’d kill whoever laid a finger on you. He’d start by punching them, getting them to the ground and sinking his fist against their cheek and jaw again and again and again, then wrap his fingers around their neck and squeeze, feeling the way they’d wheeze and choke and desperately grapple at this fingers, begging him to save their worthless life. Begging with that same voice that they could’ve been calling out lewd and inappropriate things to you in, touching him with those hands that he’s sure they would’ve used to touch you, to taint and mar your pretty skin and leave you scared and trembling and shaking and needing someone like Jin to come and rescue you –

The man would be dead before Jin knows it, his lip caught between his teeth because although killing someone doesn’t necessarily feel good, there’s something pleasant swimming in his gut because now this person will never, ever get near you again.)

He learns that you always stop to look at pretty window displays, the glittering Christmas lights and decorations making you twinkle in turn, the colors shining against your skin and clothes in a way that makes Jin swear you’re an angel, as if you’re a personal piece of heaven just for him, no matter how undeserving he may be.

He learns that you keep your spare apartment key under your welcome mat, always fishing it out before you slip into your apartment. Your apartment, which he’s visiting numerous times – enough times that if he had to, he could navigate with his eyes closed. He’s poured through every square inch of your home – digging through drawers and marveling at each little trinket he can find, no matter how mundane.

He rifled through your kitchen drawer last month, noticing with baited breath that you have a variety of spices in your cupboard – you must like your food well-seasoned. He’s not a very good cook, but for you, he could be – and all too soon images of you leaning close to him, your lashes fluttering and your eyes sultry as you eat the bit of food off his outstretched fork, making a show of swallowing and telling him that his cooking is so good Jin, you’re so wonderful for me…

He’d also found a pair of scissors, something that’d made his brows furrow in worry because although he trusts that you’re responsible, it still makes him nervous for you to have something like this laying around your house – something that could easily cut you, something that has the potential to hurt you.

He’s gone through each and every piece of silverware you own, looking at each fork and knife and gulping, his cheeks red as he thinks of the way you’ve used these pieces of metal – your lips and tongue have pressed against the material, your saliva coating the fork’s prongs, the slurping and sucking noises you make as you eat the soup off of your spoon.

He’ll gulp, looking around your empty apartment, then quickly shove the fork into his mouth, his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head because although you’ve washed it, he swears the fork tastes like you – and isn’t this almost a form of an indirect kiss? Aren’t his lips touching something yours has, his tongue rubbing and caressing the prongs just as yours might have?

(The thought leaves his knees weak, his pants unbearably tight, the fork clutched tightly in his fist as he wills himself to stay strong, to keep going and not crumple to a ball in the middle of your kitchen and fuck his fist like he so desperately needs to.)

He’ll sit on your couch, his breath uneven as soon as the soft cushions rest below him, his muscles tense and tight because he’s seen you sit here, watched as you laughed and roared at some television show, your pretty body molding to the couch’s cushions, your pajamas looking so cute and adorable and sexy on you.

His hands idly run over the couch fabric, his Adam’s Apple bobbing because oh, you’ve touched this before, haven’t you? He’ll meander into your bathroom, fingering your towels and letting his tongue slip over his lips, internally debating if it’s really such a good idea, if it’s crossing a boundary, if it really wouldn’t hurt…

And soon he’s stepping into your shower, the hot water (set to the temperature he knows you like) cascading down his nude body. He’ll open each of your shower products and eagerly smell them, something like a strangled groan slipping past his lips with each smell. He’s using your hair care products, lathering himself in your body wash, using your loofah and even using your razor, just because he wants the full experience of you, to be as close to you as possible given your current absence in the apartment.

And of course he’ll be using the towel once he’s finished – your towel, the one that still smells like you and has a strand or two of your hair sitting so perfectly and neatly on it.

(Jin picks up the hairs in awe, swallowing and bringing the hair up, his tongue brushing against the strand, his teeth clenching down as he chews at it.)

He wants to touch your toothbrush (so badly that it nearly hurts), but he stops himself, deciding that he should save that honor for when you’re sharing a toothbrush, when you’re with him every morning and night.

And of course, he’s tiptoeing into your bedroom, his eyes going wide and his nostrils flaring because oh god, it smells exactly like you and he thinks he might faint because it feels like you’re really here with him, like you’re by his side and hugging him and he’s surrounded by you you you.

He’s mostly respectful – or at least, as much as a man breaking-and-entering into your apartment can be, avoiding your underwear drawers despite the voice in his head urging him to snatch a pair of panties.

(The sexy ones, you know ‘em – the lacy black ones, the ones you were thinkin’ of last night when you jerked off so many times you were shootin’ blanks.)

He’ll open your closet, whistling at the sight of all your clothes. He’ll try on as many things as he can, hoping that things will fit him, always careful to hang them back up exactly as he found them, though a small part of him hopes that you can smell him on the clothing, that you’ll be reminded of him and be comforted. He’ll sit on your bed, breath hitched as he feels the way the mattress sags under his weight, before laying down slowly.

He’d showered that morning and was suddenly thankful for it – he wouldn’t want to sully your comforter with any dirt or grime. He’ll even dare to get under the covers for a moment, letting his eyes flutter closed as he imagines laying with you, spooning you with sunlight streaming in through the window, feeling your body (nude, of course, because he sleeps nude and all couples should sleep without clothing, yes?) against his and relishing in the smell of your hair and the nape of your neck.

All the while, Jin is noticing and mentally cataloguing every little detail he can process while in your apartment – the color scheme, what photographs you have up, what decorates your walls, whether there’s dirty clothes on your floors or bed or if you’re perfectly clean. Because really, everything is important – every little scrap of knowledge he can glean about you feeds the insatiable desire he harbors for you, this uncontrollable urge to be with you at all moments of the day.

This satisfies him, for now – it’s enough for the time being to be living as your shadow, but soon he’ll want to be by your side, hearing you say his name and feeling your soft hands touching him.

And he’ll do absolutely anything you tell him – all with an eager nod and a franticness to his actions that would leave him wildly embarrassed if it was anyone other than you.

Anyone other than the woman he’s hopelessly infatuated with – the one he'd get on his knees and literally beg for, even just for a simple glance his way.

Gentle

As a general rule, Jin absolutely does not want to hurt you.

Despite his status as a villain, he’s caring and soft to almost a debilitating degree, the notion of violence often necessary but not something he actively pursues. And so, of the small list of people in this world that he cares about, he would never purposefully harm any of them – and because you sit smack at the top of that list, this sentiment is only more extreme.

He thinks of you as perfection, idolizing you in every possible way, and so to even entertain the idea of leaving any sort of physical or emotional damage to you makes Jin physically ill, a Split oncoming as his stomach heaves, his head feeling dizzy and light as panic engulfs him. He absolutely does not want to harm you or upset you in any way, and this ultimately results in Jin being a yandere who is neither harsh nor patronizing, but rather simply gentle.

He treats you like an absolute queen; though he’s in a financial position that makes legally procuring gifts for you a little trickly, Jin goes out of his way to try and provide you with everything and anything he can to make you happy.

Before kidnapping you, this looks like buying you small, simple little token gifts – a small, modest bouquet of flowers (bouquet being a stretch – more often than not it’s just a single flower that he himself plucked from the ground, keeping the flower safe and preserved on his journey to find you – searching your most frequently visited locations, of course, and tapping into the tracker he'd managed to get Skeptic to install into your confiscated phone).

It looks like him offering to treat you to dinners and lunches, always at places that are within his price range (because stealing food in front of you would be a tacky move and although he can’t keep the façade of his occupation away from you forever, he’d like you to think of him as a dignified man), with greasy tables and even greasier meals, dingy lighting and seats with duct tape holding the leather booths together.

It’s not much, but it’s all Jin can offer you – and he does so with the most heart-melting, hopeful smile, his eyes soft and this look of utter vulnerability scrawled across his face that’ll have you giving in almost immediately, agreeing to getting lunch with him despite the way that his blatant staring bothers you.

(As does the way he leans in and inhales deeply when your back is turned. You can hear the breathing, the strange gulping sound that follows, and although it makes the bad kind of shivers race up your spine, you don’t bring it up with him.)

And once he’s stolen you away, that façade of being a dignified man is up – he’s still spoiling you, even more so than before your forced captivity with him, but now he doesn’t feel that he has to pay to spoil you. Now, he can steal your favorite things – because really, anything is worth seeing your smile light up your whole face when he brings home that expensive pastry he knows you love.

(The sweet is perfectly preserved, not a single wrinkle in the pretty, ornate parchment paper it’s wrapped in, nor is any portion of the sweet itself squished. He’d paid extra care to keep everything perfectly in-tact – perfect for you, because anything less than that would be an insult to his love for you.)

He’s bringing home all sorts of movies for the two of you to watch together, his hand slowly inching to your thigh as you sit side by side on his shitty old couch, the television on but all his attention focused on trying to be subtle about showing you just how badly he needs to touch you. He’s trying his best to get your favorite foods every night, getting you a few new clothes (and some of his own – he’s got a few sweatshirts that he will be forcing you into wearing, the sight of you in his clothing making his face scarlet and his face buried in his hands, his lip caught between his teeth as he tries and fails to compose himself because god, you look so good and it looks so fucking right to see you in something of his.)

Really, while Jin knows that he can’t buy your love and acceptance of his feelings, he’s desperate for any sort of help to get you moving that way. Any aid he can enlist in helping spark and develop any sort of reciprocation of his obsession with you is eagerly used, hope springing up inside his chest that maybe, just maybe, if he can make you happy enough you’ll forget that he’s a criminal, that he’s kidnapped you, that you’ve found out about all the stalking and stealing used socks and living in your apartment while you weren’t home.

He’s hopeful that all his hard work will pay off – you’ll see him as a man who really, truly loves you, even if he doesn’t deserve you.

God, he’ll never deserve someone like you – but he’ll never stop wanting you, either.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

In general, Jin’s jealousy stems less from a place of selfish possessiveness and more from a place of insecurity and genuine worry for your safety.

Jin is more than aware that he’s not your ideal man – he’s a criminal with deaths to his name, renting a shitty apartment he can barely afford, riddled with mental health issues stemming from his quirk, and perpetually smelling like cigarettes. He’s very aware that if you were left to your own devices, you’d never pick him – and he can’t blame you, honestly. He’s a loser, a grown man with so many voices inside his head that he can’t keep track of them, and if he were a woman as pretty, sweet, and smart as you, he’d choose someone more successful, wealthier, more stable, just better.

And so, when he sees another man interact with you, his initial thought is that this is it – you’ll like this man more than you like Jin.

Maybe he’s funnier and wittier, or maybe he’s charming and suave with his words, two things that Jin himself certainly isn’t. Maybe he’s more attractive – without a nasty scar down the center of his forehead, or maybe you prefer brunettes like him, or maybe he’s taller.

Regardless, insecurity immediately eats away at Jin, forcing him to notice all of the things that man does better than him, all of the things that could pull your attention and feelings – whatever those may be – away from Jin and instead towards this stranger.

And while he initially feels that this is true, that this is the natural course of things and it’s how it should be, the longer he watches the interaction, the less satisfied with that he becomes. He grows restless, his fingers twitching at his sides, his muscles tensing and flexing and urging him to do something, whether that’s interrupting the two of you or causing a large enough distraction to end whatever conversation you’re having. It’s nearly unbearable, an internal war raging the longer he watches on, his lips moving and all sorts of different arguments and urges slipping off his tongue.

Go interrupt them!

No, it would be wrong of me to insert myself into a conversation that I’m not a part of.

Fuck that, he wants to steal her! He wants to make her his own!

You don’t know that, you can’t claim something that extreme without any foundation to base it on!

You can see his face, you can tell he wants to fuck her – look at that, he’s practically undressing her with his eyes!

It goes back and forth, seeming to never end, until eventually Jin forces himself to turn around and walk away, the part of him that’s insecure finally winning out the longer he notices things that are simply better about this stranger. It’s torturous and makes him bit his lip so hard it draws blood, his steps labored and heavy, but it’s the right thing to do.

And if you respond to his texts later that night, Jin will know that you haven’t completely forgotten him – perhaps you’ve forgotten this stranger, though, because you’re choosing to respond to Jin’s texts, not his. And this idea makes a wobbly smile spread across Jin’s face, his thumbs typing away at his cracked phone, deleting and retyping over and over again as he tries to think of ways to keep the conversation going, wanting so very badly to keep talking to you and keep your attention on him.

However, although Jin is fairly complacent and non-confrontational when it comes to most of your interactions with other men, there are a few circumstances where he’s not nearly as controlled – that is, when Jin can tell that the man has bad intentions.

It’s one thing to see you talk with a man that clearly finds you attractive, but it’s an entirely different story when Jin can see the gun or knife glinting in the man’s pocket, or when he recognizes the man’s face as a petty criminal known for pickpocketing defenseless women. It’s in these circumstances where Jin’s face will harden up, his lips a thin, straight line as he approaches the both of you, butting his way in with an excited greeting aimed at you, his eyes cold as he stares the man down.

And frankly, most petty villains will recognize him – sure, he isn’t the most famous villain, but he’s still a member of the League, and the perpetrator will often make some excuse and scurry away, not wanting to stir up any trouble with the League over some stupid woman.

And though Jin won’t want to explain why the man fled so quickly, he’s absolutely smug that his mere presence was enough to deter the man from bothering you anymore. He’ll look at you with excited eyes, his cheeks lightly flushed, hoping and praying that you’ll compliment him, that you’ll praise him and thank him because really, you wanted the man to go away but you were too scared to do it yourself.

And maybe, just maybe, if he’s really lucky, you’ll even give him a peck on the cheek as a thanks, the feeling of your lips against his skin making his heart race, this strange half-whimper slipping from his throat because you’re so close that he can smell you, and it’s fresh and real this time – not just the residual scent of your pillow your towel.

It’s wishful thinking, but Jin likes being your guardian angel – he’s anything but an angel, really, but it makes him feel important, needed, good. Like he’s actually giving you something, instead of just taking and taking and taking.

This is wrong, and Jin knows it. He shouldn’t be here – the cute little café is a public space, sure, but there was absolutely no chance that he would’ve found himself here if he hadn’t been trailing you for the last thirty minutes.

And he’d enjoyed it – watching you walk, seeing how your hair flittered a little in the breeze, the sway of your hips (something he tried hard not to look at but still found his gaze wandering down to every few minutes, his cheeks growing pink and palm coming up to smack at his cheek).

But the moment you’d entered the café, Jin following a few steps behind, he knows something is wrong. Instead of sitting at your own table, you make a beeline to the larger wooden one by the window – the one where a man is already sitting. Jin sits at his own table, some twenty feet away, bringing a flimsy newspaper up to cover his face.

The man greets you with a smile, introducing himself, complimenting your outfit and even pushing your fucking chair in, and suddenly it becomes very apparent what’s happening.

You’re on a date. A fucking date. Jin feels his face slip, a deep frown etching its way onto his lips. It’s torture to listen to you; your voice is a little higher than usual, he notes, and something sharp wedges its way between his ribs.

You never speak to him with that kind of voice – does that mean you aren’t interested in him? Does that means you don’t like him? Don’t say stupid crap like that! Are you stupid? It’s probably true! He winces, knocking at his head with his hand as a feeble attempt to get the warring thoughts to stop.

The date goes well, as far as Jin can tell – conversation flows easily, and with every passing moment he finds himself growing more and more restless, the hopelessness beginning to take its toll. He wants to interrupt – badly, really, with every fiber of his being. But that wouldn’t be fair to you – you obviously seem to like this man, perhaps even more than you like Jin, as loathe as he is to say it, and what right does he have to take that happiness away from you?

It hurts him, yes, but if it means staying in your life and seeing you happy, even if it’s with another man, he’ll grit his teeth and not play dirty. Your happiness is top priority, after all – and as you leave the café, you and the man going your separate ways, Jin can only hope that you will not be receiving any calls or texts from the man, even as you happily give him your number. He’s still gripping his hands into tight fists, even as he begins trailing the man.

This sight is significantly less pleasant than when he follows you – he doesn’t mind looking at you, not when you’re all pretty and sweet and you seem so very innocent. But this man? Well, as he approaches a bar a few blocks away, Jin’s brow cocks up. A mid-afternoon drink seems a little strange, and as Jin steps inside the bar after the man, a small burst of pride blooms in his chest.

Because really, this is not just a bar – there’s a stage, at the far back of the establishment, with all sorts of different colored lights beaming down on the main act: a scantily clad woman leaning back on a pole, winking at a man sitting in the front row. Jin’s taken aback – surely this can’t be a good sign, right?

You didn’t need to be seeing any men who frequent strip clubs – and with the way the man immediately went up to the bar, ordering a shot and acting friendly with the bartender, Jin’s sure this isn’t the first time he’s visited.

With a smile, Jin decides that this is finally something that Jin is better at – he’s many things, sure, but he only has eyes for you and he’d never seek out the visual comforts of another woman.

And as Jin approaches the bar, ears perked up, anger brews in his gut. Yeah man, just wrapped up a date – girl’s awful, talking about her family and shit, who the hell wants to hear that? She’d look better if she just shut the fuck up.

Jin’s jaw is on the floor, rage swimming in his veins. How dare this man speak about you that way – as if you’re just some random woman, as if everything you say isn’t gospel, something worthy of being revered and paid the utmost attention to. How dare this man dismiss you like that – after you’d been so happy, after you’d thought the date had gone so well, after he’d asked for your number, for God’s sake.

And with that, Jin sinks into his jacket, closing his eyes and trying to subdue the urge to walk over and sock the guy across the face so hard that he spits out a few teeth. No, that wouldn’t accomplish anything except a few moments of satisfaction – no, Jin has to take more drastic measures, something that will ensure that you and your fragile little heart won’t be hurt by this horrible, disgusting man.

And so, as Jin slips away, it’s not so hard to send you a fake text from the man, asking if he can swing by your apartment.

And you, being flustered that your date had contacted you to fast and so eagerly of course say yes, inviting him over for dinner. Jin smiles down at the phone with a big, bashful beam, able to pretend for just a few moments that he was supposed to be the recipient of that text, that really it was him you were inviting over for a homecooked meal, then maybe a movie, then maybe you’d stay up and talk with him for hours, falling asleep in his arms and letting him hold you like he spend hours dreaming of.

(Or, if you’re feeling a bit frisky, perhaps you’d let him spread your legs and spend hours with his head trapped between them, your taste and smell clouding his senses as he brings you to your high over and over and over…)

It’s not hard to make a copy of the man, to get him at your apartment door, that same suave walk and the high cheekbones making you bashful as you open your apartment door. But then, the man sneers at you, looking you up and down just as Jin had instructed, scoffing under his breath and telling you that you’re even uglier the second time I see you. I just came by to tell you that I don’t wanna see you anymore – you’re not my type, you know? I like ‘em a little more interesting. But if you wanna fuck, I’d be more than happy to –

You slam the door in his face, chest heaving and tears pricking at your eyes, and although it nearly braks Jin’s heart, he closes his eyes and breaths deep, reminding himself that although hurting you is making every bone in his body feel brittle and about ready to snap, this is necessary.

It’s necessary because the man probably would’ve done worse if left to his own devices – if his conversation with the bar tender was any indication, you would’ve been used for your body and then unceremoniously dumped in the trash. And you deserve so, so much more than that – Jin is sure of it, and Jin can give you that if you’d just let him.

He gives you some time, sure that you’re sobbing behind the front door, and it’s only an hour or so later that he texts you (from his real number, of course) if you’d like to grab dinner. He’s equal parts nervous and ecstatic when you respond with a simple yes, already eager to get you distracted from that loser – and, perhaps, even manage to show you how much better Jin can treat you.

He's charming that night, on his best behavior, telling you all sorts of jokes and asking about things he knows you love to ramble on about, just wanting to hear your voice and watch your lips move. And soon, the guilt is totally washed away – because really, would you have ever been able to speak this freely with that man? Absolutely not. Jin may not deserve you, but at least he can treat you well – so why can’t you see that?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Jin doesn’t want to kidnap you, but he will eventually reach a point where his anxiety, paranoia and profession leave him with no other choice. He’s fully aware that his obsession with you has grown to such astronomical proportions that it’s literally controlling his life, but he doesn’t seriously entertain the notion that you’re just as deeply in love and devoted to him as he is you.

(Obviously he likes to think that you are – pleasant daydreams star you with your lips pressed against his jaw as you tell him just how much he means to you, just how badly you want him, just how much you need him, but he’s always brought back to reality with a cruel slap, Dabi barking his name or an alarm clock going off and leaving him feel empty, alone, restless for you.)

He knows that he possesses a one-sided love for you, and in the beginning of his obsession, that was enough. It was enough to simply be seen by you – to have your attention on him if only for a few seconds, your smile and warm and inviting and genuine as you spoke to him. It was enough that he was a silent admirer, watching you from the shadows of your life and eagerly anticipating your next encounter, no matter how large or small.

It was enough, until suddenly it wasn’t. Suddenly Jin needed to have more contact with you – getting your phone number had been one of the most nerve-wracking things he’d ever done, his fear of rejection so incredibly high that it made his voice a bit scratchy and he’d almost stuttered, leaving him mortified but only more enamored with you when you just laughed and gladly filled out your contact information into his phone.

And that had been enough for a time, too – he could text you, sending you photos of the sunset that he spent five minutes trying to find the perfect camera settings and angles for, just so that he could send as good of a photo to you as possible and have you be impressed.

(He’d been hoping you’d even compliment him as a response, perhaps telling him that it’s so beautiful, Jin! You’re so talented at photography! Or, in an even more idealized world, you’d tell him how beautiful the stars are and then immediately follow that up with an offer to go star gazing, to spend the evening together curled up in some remote field staring up at the sky and using each other as body heat to stay warm in the cold night air.)

But then the texting and calling wasn’t enough – soon he needed more, and that’s when the stalking began. He’d follow you to work, then immediately return to your apartment and snoop around, touching everything and picking everything up just so that there was at least some memory of him on everything you own.

And this had to be enough – this was the furthest Jin could get away with without you noticing, without you cutting him out of your life completely once you realized just how truly deranged for you he was. 

But then somehow a hero finds out about you, and suddenly your position in his life is threatened, and Jin panics. He totally, utterly panics, a Split intense enough to bring tears to his eyes forcing him to rely on the one person he trusts more than any other soul on the planet: you.

He comes to you, babbling and going on about some sort of internal debate that you can’t follow, and as you try to calm him down, your words start slowly sinking into Jin’s psyche. You keep saying that you’re there, that you’ll always be there for you, I promise.

You’re pulling him into your side, a cloth bag placed over hie head while you rub at his arms and back, shushing him gently and even rocking him back and forth every so slightly. And so, as the Split slowly fades and he calms down, two things happen – one, you sigh in relief and hope that Jin has processed some of his emotions and will leave, and two, Jin hearing your words as a promise that you want him, that you need him, that you want to stay by his side for the rest of your life.

And so, in the aftermath of a horrible mental health episode, Jin decides that you’ve essentially given him permission to make sure you really are always going to be there for him, just like you said.

It’s not hard to sneak into your apartment that night, the chloroform soaked rag sitting underneath your nose in a way that made it difficult not to swoon over your adorable sleeping figure.

(Jin gulps and swallows as he stares at your limp body, his hand reaching out to very, very lightly brush his fingertips over the expanse of your clothed hip, wide eyes staring at you as if you’re some piece of art, something for him to keep and cherish and love.)

And when you wake up the morning, you’ll find yourself in a strange bedroom with a strange man who’ll spoil you rotten – even if you beg him not to, even if you say the only gift you want is to be let free.

As a captor, Jin isn’t too terrible – all those desires to spoil you and make you happy are still very much present within him even once he’s stolen you away.

In fact, if anything he’s even more desperate to get you smiling, to see you be happy and looking at him with anything other than fear and hate. Because really, after that Split that led to him kidnapping you calms down, Jin is only left with complete and utter regret – you’ll hate him now, he’s sure of it.

You’ll be afraid of him, thinking of him not as the sweet, funny, and harmless Jin you’ve come to know but instead a monster, a criminal capable of hurting you in more ways than one. And this kills him – he hates being looked at like he’s ruined your life, even if he basically has. And because of this, he decides that the only way to get you to slowly see him in a positive light again is if he makes your life with him as good as possible – if he spoils you, treats you like a queen, pampers you and cares for you with the level of devotion that you deserve.

And frankly, Jin is more than happy to give you this – he’s a worshipper through and through, already revering you like you’re something holy and in need of constant praise. He’ll outfit his dingy apartment the best that he can – there’s freshly stolen furniture in your favorite colors and fabrics, changed lightbulbs for his overhead lights work, a stocked refrigerator, a new mattress.

(Only one though, so you’ll still have to share with him – but don’t be too worried, because he won’t actively try anything without your explicit permission. At least, he won’t while he’s awake – when he’s asleep is an entirely different story, because that’s when his real desires come out, unchecked and uncontrolled as he grinds his hips against your ass, his little moans and whispers of your name as he presumably has a wet dream about you more than a little awkward to lie next to. Don’t mention it to him though, please – he can tell that his cum is staining his boxers, but he’s always hopeful that you slept through it all, that you didn’t notice the way he was probably trying to get stimulation, that you didn’t see just how depraved and desperate for intimacy he is.)

He’s getting you comfortable clothing; lots of sweatshirts and lounging pants, fuzzy socks and even a few hats for when the heating in the building goes out (as it often does).

(He really likes to see you in his clothing, of course, but Jin isn’t too terribly pushy – he’d be ecstatic if you willingly wore something of his, his face bright red and all sorts of things coming out of his mouth, but he’s really and truly pleased, a satisfied and smug feeling burrowing in his chest that’s difficult to hide. Sometimes he’ll even wear the new clothing first, making sure that it smells like him, before handing it off for you to hear, biting his lip and struggling to stay calm because god, you look so damn good in what he’d just worn, god you’re really here with him right now and looking at him and touching him and acknowledging him.)

He’ll stock up on all your favorite foods, paying special attention to making sure he has every snack under the sun. And while he does care about your health, when he’s buying you all these snacks, he’ll get absolutely anything you want, even if there’s so much sugar and such little nutritional value that it makes him nervous.

He can’t cook very well, but he’ll order takeout or swing by a restaurant and steal something for dinner, always loving the look of hunger and shy thankfulness as you bite into the meal he’s brought you, trying hard to ignore the way he’s blatantly staring at you and awaiting your approval.

And really, that’s another part of your captivity with him – the staring, the touching, the constant talking, the constant him. He’s always been clingy with you, but it’s even more so once he's got you trapped under his thumb. He always has to be looking at you, observing you and feeling like he’s a part of whatever you’re doing. He wants to see everything you’re up to – when you’re watching television, he’s watching you.

(And nervously playing with his fingers, like there’s something he wants to ask you but is afraid to, right up until he blurts it out, something crude and rude and it immediately makes him apologize, gripping at his hair a bit and telling you about how he didn’t mean it, oh man I promise I didn’t mean it!)

When you’re doing one of the puzzles he’d stolen to help keep you entertained while he was busy, he’s sitting on the other side of the table, those eyes of his glued onto your fingers as you try each piece, watching with rapt attention and marveling at how you slowly make progress, feeling smug and prideful because his girl is so smart.

When you’re stepping into the shower, you can see him out of the corner of your eye, not peeking at you but simply staring at the open doorway of the bathroom, his back facing the shower but his presence still suffocating you.

(He refuses to leave alone during showers, simply because he’s terrified that you’ll slip and fall, that you’ll crack your head open or accidentally swallow shampoo or any number of other wild, outlandish things. And, as he listens to the sound of running water, he’s hoping that one day he’ll get to join you – that one day you’ll be able to bathe together. He’ll run his fingers over your roots, massaging the shampoo into your hair slowly and deeply, your body pressed close to his as the water cascades down your back. He’ll have you lather up his body with that scented body wash you love, and maybe you’ll even draw shapes with the bubbles, press kisses to his naked chest or press yourself against him, whispering in your ear that you love him...)

Truly, Jin is not so bad – he's clingy and you’ll have absolutely no time to yourself, but he’s not too invasive. He doesn’t treat you like an incompetent child, and he at least tries to make you happy – he won’t push you into a physical relationship, not does he demean you in any purposeful way.

The only true negative with Jin (aside from your kidnapping in the first place, not to mention the stalking and hyper fixation) is that although he tries his best to control it, Splits are not pretty, and you’re always the one he comes to her help. When you’re around they happen significantly less often, his comfort level higher and his concentration wavering from his own identity crisis and instead towards you, just as his thoughts often do, but they still happen.

And when they do, he’s blindly searching for you, reaching out bleary, teary eyes and all sorts of babbles and rambles coming from his mouth, every muscle in his body tensing up as he clutches onto you, begging for you to help him, to please, please make me whole again, ‘m not sure what’s – what’s real.

And while you may hate Jin for kidnapping you, for occasionally breaking into your apartment while you’re asleep and watching you rest, for threatening others in your name, for keeping you safe and sound, you still can’t watch this. Somewhere buried inside the monster that stole you away is the Jin that you were friends with – and that’s the Jin you want to help, the one that’s driving you as you shove the paper bag down over his head, letting him engulf you in a nearly too-tight hug as he sobs and his shoulders shake.

It takes him a while to calm down, but as his grip grows tighter and he starts murmuring your name under his breath like a chant, he’ll slowly pull away, swallowing heavily and telling you that he loves you, that he needs you, that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And perhaps it’s Stockholm Syndrome, or perhaps you’ve simply gone crazy, but as time passes something about that sentiment will start becoming romantic to you, something that makes your heart race and gets your palms sweaty.

Because really, eventually you will end up playing out Jin’s fantasies – where the two of you are deeply in love, living together, sleeping together, bathing together, eating together, doing every possible thing in one another’s company because he simply can’t stomach the idea of being aware from you for any small amount of time.

It’s bliss, everything he’s ever dreamed of – and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to get there, even if it means acting like your slave just to see you smile at him once a while and give him any scrap of positive affection you can muster.

Anything at all.

PUNISHMENTS:

As a general rule, Jin worships you. He finds you to be absolute perfection – you’re beautiful and caring and patient, everything wonderful and nearly too perfect to even be real. You’re certainly too perfect for a fuck-up like him – and yet he wants you, in such a primal and raw way that he can’t hope to fight it.

You’re like air to him, and because he’s grown so attached to your praise and presence in order for his mental health to stabilize for a few moments, Jin can’t stomach the thought of punishing you.

You’re supposed to be happy with him – you’re supposed to be growing to love him, something that he works hard at every day that he has you trapped with him. He gets you flowers (they’re a little wilted and old, but they’re the best he can find), little chocolates (never quite in the flavors and styles you like, but as close as he can get), and tries to keep you happy and placated by having all your favorite things in the apartment.

And so, even more than being upset that you attempted to escape or hurt yourself, Jin can’t really fathom why you’d even bother doing something worthy of a punishment in the first place – are his efforts not enough? Is it not enough for him to run himself ragged trying to think of ways to keep you happy, to show you that despite having kidnapped you, he’s not an entirely bad person?

It’s demoralizing and sends him spiraling into a state of panic and confusion, leading to particularly bad Splits that get him ripping at his hair and frantically grabbing for something, anything, to stop the episode in its tracks.

And so, punishments aren’t common at all – with a few hard exceptions that he does, with time, deem as worthy of his punishments.

(Harming yourself is a large one, as is attempting to harm Jin. Most other things are fair game, and things that he understands why you’d do. But once there’s the question of safety, Jin’s hairs are standing on edge, worry eating him alive because he absolutely cannot have you bleeding or in pain or any number of horrible things.)

You’ll never, ever be physically harmed while with him – the mere thought makes him anxious enough that he feels like he’ll hurl, the images of you bruised and battered flashing behind his eyes and making him feel on edge, anger boiling up in his chest because he absolutely will not stand for you to be harmed in any capacity, whether by another person or by himself.

And he doesn’t even really like to emotionally punish you – he’s not the best manipulator in the world, and something about purposefully warping your mind makes him feel dirty, a grimy feeling that makes his skin crawl and that he wants to avoid at all costs. But sometimes, certain infractions – especially towards the beginning of your captivity – have to be addressed, the bad behavior in you stomped out before it can really take root.

And so, Jin relies on other methods to get these points across – that is, he decides to show you just how good you have it with him by taking some of that good away.

He’ll revoke your dinner privilege for a night, or showering privileges for a few days.

He’ll forbid you from listening to music by removing all electronic players in the apartment, his phone hidden on his person (and yours having been long destroyed, even from before he laid your unconscious body out on your bed, marveling at the sight of you and oh-so-gently brushing a strand of hair out of your face).

It doesn’t feel good, you being even minorly uncomfortable in any way a difficult a difficult sight, but Jin pushes through, his personalities arguing audibly but all eventually agreeing that showing you exactly what you do have is the best method to go about making you as happy as you possibly can be with him.

Besides, there’s something inexplicably satisfying about the moment that you finally admit that you need him, that as much as you hate the hell he’s created by kidnapping you and keeping you all for himself, you must rely on him if you want to survive.

And Jin is smug – finally, you’re starting to see that he can be good, that he’s really not the monster you’ve cracked him out to be. And as soon as the punishment is over, Jin is back to the ever-loving, clingy mess that he always is, desperate to be around you and get your attention.

Jin’s hurt, more than anything, when you lunge at him and swing your fist like you’re trying to punch him.

He stops you easily, of course, but there’s something about the look in his eyes that has you shrinking back, shame withering through your body because god, how can he look so genuinely heartbroken, so genuinely betrayed?

It’s silent for a few moments as he holds your wrist in place, his mind too distracted to even focus on the feeling of physical touch that you initiated, even if the intention was less than ideal. His voice is small when he asks you what you’re doing, hurt lacing his words as he asks why are you trying to punch me? Are you mad at me? What did I do?

And in a different voice, though still somber are you on your period?

And although you have a few choice words to spit at him, all kinds of answers popping into your mind immediately, there’s just something about the way he’s slumped over, shoulders drooping and defeated, the downturn of his lips and the soulful look in his eye that have you unable to speak, the words simply not rolling off of your tongue.

Jin waits for a moment, expecting a barrage of hatred to spew from you, but nothing comes. And so, with careful fingers and slow movements, he slowly lets go of your hand, watching with careful eyes for your next move.

When you don’t swing at him again, Jin takes a step back, the action looking like it physically pains him.

It’s late, we should get to bed. It’s silent again for a moment, but then he moves towards the couch.

Listen, I don’t want to be the bad guy, but tonight you’ve gotta, uh, you’ve gotta sleep here tonight.

You look at him like he’s a little crazy, and he sends you a sorry glance, that same hurt written across his features.

You’ve gotta understand that I’m trying to do what’s best for you, I promise! I know kidnapping you was wrong, but you’re here now and we’ve gotta make the best of it.

God get over it already! It’s already been a month!

You watch with wide eyes as he grabs the blanket off of the back of the sofa, folding it over his arm and gesturing to the furniture.

Sleep here, you’ve gotta learn that hurting me isn’t okay, and neither is hurting yourself so don’t you try anything!

I’ll sleep with an eye open, you hear?

The night is long without the blanket, the apartment’s heating out again as you shiver against the material, using the mangy couch cushions as a makeshift blanket. It’s horrible, and you roll over with a sigh, sure that you’ll never manage to fall asleep in this position but fully knowing that Jin would wake up if you tried to join him in the warm bed. Shutting your eyes and sighing, you again try to drift into sleep – unaware of the way Jin lays in the bed, staring across the room at you with fully awake eyes.

Watching you struggle is torture; he wants more than anything to get up and come bundle you up in the blankets, the sound of your clattering teeth and shivering audible even from his position. But he can’t – not if he wants you to learn your lesson.

Not if he wants you to understand that you absolutely cannot be trying to instigate violence between the two of you – you’re supposed to be a loving couple, happy with one another and perfectly content to live out the rest of your days together.

A punch doesn’t exactly fit that happy dream that Jin has whipped up, and although he knows it’s far off in the future, he fully expects it to become reality one day – you’ve just got to stop fighting it so hard.

And as morning arrives and you both lie in your respective places, neither of you having slept a wink, Jin decides it was worth it. Because when you get out of bed, crawling over to him and asking with that fucking look on your face if you can use the blanket or get in with him, he’s crumbling.

You’ve never asked before – you’ve never used the word ‘please’ with him since being kidnapped, and here you were now, asking him for a favor, politely, sweetly, like you actually appreciate him.

All he can do is stare dumbly at you for a few seconds, but then he’s sputtering out a yes and scotting over, opening up the sheets to expose the beaten-up white tank top he’s sporter and the boxer shorts. Immediately you jump in, the sudden warmth feeling heavenly on your chilled bones, but Jin can only shudder, the feeling of your body so close to his driving him crazy, your smell engulfing his senses and he swears he can even taste you.

He’ll pull you close, experimentally, and when you don’t fight it he’ll let out a slow, long breath, letting his hand rest on your side lightly, almost as if he’s afraid to touch you.

Almost as if you’re not real – and by extension that this sort of fondness you seem to be developing for him isn’t real either. But God, he hopes it is.

OVERALL DANGER:

5/10

Jin is not particularly dangerous.

Mostly, he’s just incredibly and overwhelmingly needy. He’s so sure that he’s not worthy of you, that you’re much too good for him that it causes him to overcompensate, to try much too hard to get you to like him, to get you to want him.

He’s always texting you, running into you at seemingly random places and times, always talking your ear off and looking so genuinely enraptured and intrigued when you respond to him that it’ll make you a little uncomfortable, the intensity in his eyes a bit scary.

He sees you as being something genuinely divine, his idolization of you terrifying in its sheer degree. He spends every free moment trailing behind you, always living in your shadow, pretending with a dopey grin that he’s actually living out your life with you, that you’re somehow aware of him stalking you, that you actually want him to be involved in your day to day life.

(And he only feels a little pathetic about this – his love for you and his intense desire to be recognized by you too strong to bar him from having some dignity and stopping this disturbing obsession.)

He’s always trying to interact with you, becoming addicted to hearing your voice and feeling your attention on him, becoming addicted to the feeling of protecting you, of being needed. And when he eventually snaps and steals you away, Jin only becomes more needy, trying desperately to compensate for the fact that he’s kidnapped you by spoiling you with any gift he can, respecting your privacy and autonomy, trying to keep you as happy as possible given your situation.

And really, while you’ll hate him at first, betrayed beyond belief and scared of this strange new person that seems to have replaced the Jin you knew, eventually you’ll slowly come around. You’ll start to realize just how truly pathetic he is, how he can’t help himself but want you and your attention, and although you’ll hate yourself for it, some part of you will be flattered by how badly he wants you.

Some part of you will be pleased that someone desires you so much that they’ve become such a mess, that they want to please you badly enough that they’re willing to throw their pride out the window for you. You’ll feel guilty and like you’re betraying yourself, but really it’s in your best interest to not fight this new development – because really, while Jin may seem a little scatterbrained and easy to manipulate, he’ll find you if you escape.

And he’ll find you remarkably fast – and although he still won’t hurt you upon your reunion, you’ll come to find that Jin has treated you very, very well. And when that’s suddenly taken away, you’ll find yourself wishing that Jin – your Jin, the one that would steal the stars and sky for you – was back, that he was with you and telling you just how beautiful you are.

You’ll slowly learn that you need him just as badly as he needs you, now – a sentiment that makes Jin beam so brightly that it nearly hurts.

[spockandawe]

Here we go! I have some smaller books to share as well, but I've been absolutely VIBRATING with excitement to share a BIG one, and I'm going to indulge myself and post that today, then figure out words for the rest. Because I bound a new cnovel. Check it out, guys, I bound jwqs/clear and muddy loss of love :D

Let me indulge myself and backtrack a little! First, these are quarto books, so they're short. But I think these average a little under 500 pages each, and jwqs is a LONG book (my beloved), and this adds up to a total eleven inches of lesbians. More like twelve once they're in their cases. It's over a million characters in Chinese and I think the English translation comes in somewhere around 890k, it's HUGE

Making these books was SO FUN, I hadn't read jwqs and still haven't, and will probably read on my phone when I do. I don't have any exciting photos of the typesetting, but I knew this was an imperial succession story, and that made me nervous, those stories don't always click for me. Well, the process of typesetting and adding footnotes for this beast definitely confirmed that I'm going to have a good time with this thing when I have the time to read it, but there was also so much going on that only the vaguest of spoilers sank in. I went into an absolute FRENZY of typesetting, and after I printed, cut and folded it, well. That was one afternoon of sewing. You're looking at the reason I'm scrambling to make up a few hours of missed work, hahaha

After that, I needed cases. At the very beginning of march, I received a shipment of some FASCINATING bookcloth. It's called Duo, and it's made by layering a thin gauzy fabric of one color over paper of a different color. Depending on the combos, you get a really cool range of color-shifting effects. And they've gone out of production! But I was part of a group order to get some of the goods, and hadn't yet finished a new project. Reader, I went for it.

That purple and green is bananas!!!! It's so hard to photograph, this midnight picture of a few cases is one of my most successful attempts to capture the full range up close. Originally I'd been thinking of trying to evoke imperial gold, but I figured this was still the kind of drama and luxury suited the book, and also something something the hidden colors suited Qi Yan's character. I tied it back a little to the imperial gold with the endpapers, then titled them in silver foil, since the endpapers had silver in them.

But once the books were made, I felt like it wanted something... more. Something like a BOX!

And me, I chase novelty. A set this large would be tricky for anything clamshell, but a slipcase for all seven would leave books tipping all over if it was wide open, but putting walls between slots would be demanding in terms of precision and would risk similarly-sized books getting stuck in the wrong slots. Then I remembered learning about slipcases where you could put in a little insert to support the weight of the text block, and the concept SNAPPED into place.

Colors aren't going to photograph well at midnight, but I made the supports using the scraps and off-cuts from my endpapers, to tie it back into the bindings. The back of the case is lined in more of the duo, and the walls are lined with a faux leather bookcloth I like a lot, it feels buttery smooth and seemed like a good neutral material to tie the papers and bookcloth together. I listened to some of the DEEPEST layers from the nine-hour conspiracy theory iceberg video while I was working on this, haha, it was a TRIP.

And in the end, each of the supports is sized to comfortably sit in the smallest of the volumes, and evenly spaced, so I believe it will take the books in any order with no problems. It's easy to grab the books without having to cut notches into the walls to grab them from. And even though weight is less of an issue for quarto sizing, the books in here have their weight supported no matter what angle the box is at! I'm so, so pleased with how this concept worked out and definitely plan to do more with it in the future.

So there we are! Jing Wei Qing Shang! I had such a fabulous time with this project, and I'm so excited to get to share it with all of you. The story was fun to work with, the bindings and box were fun to make, and everything here came together just as well as I could possibly have hoped. I'm so proud of this, and incredibly, incredibly excited to show it to you!

[lucrezianoin]

Astarion-centric fics recs (49 fanfics)

I will divide them by ship. They are all complete unless specified. Also, if a fic is not here it does not mean that I did not like it, I could have forgotten it or just not seen it given that there is a lot of Astarion content!

Just make sure to read all the tags warnings when you open the AO3 page. I added the non-ship focused but Cazador focused ones at the end.

Also it feels weird to rec my own fics, but in case you want to read astarion h/c I am writing you can find me here at LadyRagnelle (for now all DarkUrge or Tav/Astarion).

Regarding if this reclist might be useful for you... there are a lot of Astarion fics, a lot of tags used and a lot of preferences! I have a very particular preference for a specific kind of fic (h/c, whump, softness, mainly) and in the case of Astarion I tend to not read nsfw, usually. So if you have been around my blog and you think we might share fics preferences... maybe these are the fics for you too! I will update this post with time.

I am trying to add a small description to all the fics, but I prioritized adding the links, so some of them do not have a description yet, but they were beloved in my bookmarks.

GEN (no ship)

Prying eyes (unsupermarket) - One of my absolute favorite. Karlach and Astarion share one of Astarion's nightmares (thanks to the tadpoles).

Reflecting endless down the hall (Asidian) - Each chapter is dedicated to one of the companions and the way they interact with Astarion, each chapter connected to a part of his past and trauma.

TAV (OR DARK URGE)/ASTARION

After all that I can do for them is done (votiveviscera)

To Aid and be aided (Beppoberry) - Post Cazador, taking care of each other.

Between the lines (Slothquisitor) - Amazing story about Tav gifting Astarion books.

Broken mechanism (laquearia) - Character study on Astarion's "Don't touch me".

Copper blood and silver hearts (netherprince)

The darkest corner of Baldur's Gate (Nebulad)

(Don't) lose your head (CL34R)

Don't you hear me praying? (ridgeline) - Short haunting story about Astarion's trauma.

And his pretty hand hold my leash (osiris_ryes) - one of the few nsfw fics in this rec list. This has some amazing Dark Urge writing and manages to use nsfw scene without ignoring the consent issues present in the game.

Hold me without hurting (fairbutnotsomaiden) - Astarion disassociates, Tav is kind.

I could feel my life begin (Flowercitti)

I have a good place to hide (Flowercitti)

I know how this will end (MyFandomCausesHanaji) - Amazing Dark Urge story about Durge trying to stop themselves from killing Astarion - and reliving the same day over and over.

A long dead pulse (enthugger) - Post-Cazador, Tav takes care of Astarion.

Made / Unmade (Adaphyl)

Mortal shortfall (titasylase) - Giving a gift to Astarion + act 1 angst, perfect combination.

Not something that I was but what I played (WitchyBee)

Out of wine and flowers (enthugger)

Porcelain (cweepa) - Astarion is sick, and he really cares about how he looks. Absolutely stunning story full of very delicate hurt/comfort and angst. I've reread this so many times.

Savages (cweepa) - Astarion finds a kitten.

Seducere (Tlon) - This is THE fanfic. I remember waiting every night for the new chapter. It narrates Astarion's past and his present in the game. Heartbreaking and haunting.

Specter (justfortune) - post game fanfic about Tav and Astarion's new life together, with some interesting concepts about personal space and sharing life.

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream (Flowercitti) - I love Flowercitti's stories so so much. This one is specifically about consent. Please, read all their fics.

Vanity items (Flowyen) - Incomplete fic, but still amazing. Just Astarion receiving genuine compliments.

You only feel it when it’s lost (gettin’ through still has a cost) (Flowercitti) - Flowercitti's Tav takes care of Astarion after Cazador.

The way you are (imprinted on a page) (cryptidvaquero) - Tav draws Astarion as a gift.

Was it something you ate (Anoke)

Water down what I call being grateful (Flowercitti) - This fic was written for one of my prompts. I will be eternally grateful because I love stories that deal with looking right through Astarion's seductions.

HALSIN/ASTARION

Animal I have become (Ulfrsmal)

Free (Faetality)

Handmande (BerlinBelin) - One of my favourite, absolutely stunning series about touch starved Astarion trying to ask (with difficulty) fo non-sexual intimacy.

Known in its aching (BerlinBerlin) - sick fic with so much tenderness.

Never gonna fall for (modern love) (Dwinkle) - Halsin offers Astarion his blood.

Through sneers and words snide (BerlinBelin)

HALSIN/TAV/ASTARION

Working on it (casswathever) - Very well written series with multiple fics, I particularly loved the relationship discussions.

WYLL/ASTARION

To die with you (WaterSeraphim)

A dream of sweet things (Asidian) - delicious h/c, trust issues and some nightmares too.

Innocence died screaming (Flowercitti) - Wyllstarion fic that starts from Astarion's past with Cazador, from his turning into a spawn. Ongoing.

KARLACH/ASTARION

Repairs (Asidian) - Heartbreakingly angsty fic about Karlach finding her touch again and Astarion expecting their first night to go a certain way.

The Things you miss (Asidian) - A very sweet fic about Karlach and Astarion interacting.

ASTARION/SEBASTIAN

A lyric on your tongue (justfortune) - Sebastian and Astarion meet.

GALE/ASTARION

The heat is only skin deep (ThatKorka)

POLY

Sharing (Asidian) - a touch of angst, touch starved characters, act 1 spoilers so slightly present consent issues.

CAZADOR-FOCUSED (no secondary ship)

Fake it (deerna)

Lost and never found (arenathesia)

Thou art mine (sophos) - The story of Astarion learning how to keep Cazador happy.

your reflection can't offer a word (to the bliss of not knowing yourself) (undermounts)

[wonderlandwalker]

One Day at a Time | Finnick Odair x Reader

Previous Part / THG Masterlist / Inbox

Summary: a short collection of sweet moments shared between you and Finnick as you recover, reminding the both of you of the love you share

(part 4 of the remember series but could also be read on its own I think, you can find the other parts in my masterlist)

Content Warnings / Tags: Fluff, no use of y/n, mentions of punching, I really think that's it.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry it took so long my only excuse is that I am an absolute mess of a human being which is a terrible one but oh well. This will be the final part of the series, hope the fluff makes up for all the heartbreak I've put you through <3

It's been a week now, one week of blissful moments spend with Finnick while recovering from the attack within district 13. After all that had happened you were in need of some peace, and the universe granted it.

On the first day you were still in the hospital wing, an IV dripping steady fluids into your system. You woke up to Finnick sitting next to you, one of his hands holding onto yours while the other was holding up a book. It was one of your favourites, and you had been pestering him about reading it so you could talk about it with him, but he had always brushed you off, saying he'd get around to it eventually. It seems eventually finally came around. You coaxed him into getting in the bed with you, he was hesitant at first, not wanting to hurt you, but he wasn't above your charms either, your eyes pleading with him in a way he couldn't resist. He had settled in behind you, letting you lean against him, ignoring the dirty look the nurse gave you. You had asked him to read to you, and even though you already knew it by heart, his sweet voice added a whole new element to the story so beloved.

The second day was spent trying to convince the nurse to let you leave the hospital room, if only for a few hours, she didn't initially want to agree, but Finnick simply wouldn't drop the subject. So you walked together towards the dinner hall, feeling like little children sneaking out past the curfew.

Supper had already finished, but Finnick was friends with one of the cooks who let him into the kitchens. He told you to sit down on the table in the middle of the room and gave you a quick peck on the lips before moving over to the fridge. It was simple, it wasn't much, but it was perfect. He would let you taste the dish in-between steps, always forgetting one ingredient or another, but you didn't mind reminding him. At some point you could have sworn he was doing it on purpose, but maybe he was just too caught up in having you there with him again. You offered to help with meting the butter, dicing the vegetables, stirring the sauce, but each and every time he would insist you stayed right where you were, accentuated with a quick kiss, his hands on your face smearing flour all over your jaw, not that you minded. He claimed he was the better cook anyway, that you'd only hold him back, now that one you both knew was a lie, but it was a precious one, one that didn't need to be disturbed.

Day three consisted of a slow day back in your room, having been cleared by the doctor and finally being in your own space again. You and Finnick hadn't shared a room in a while now with everything that had gone down, but you had immediately decided to spend your nights together again, not wanting to spend more time apart than necessary. You hadn't fully recovered yet, still needing your rest, but Finnick had set his mind on moving your things back into his room today.

So there you were, sitting crossed legged on his bed absentmindedly sipping on some coffee he had brought you as you watched him bustle about. He was only gone a few minutes at a time, but you never failed to produce a smile when you saw him approaching again, hands full with some of your books, the collection of flowers he had given you over the years that you had dried and pressed in-between the pages were sticking out slightly, but he handled them with care. Even while you weren't together you couldn't find it ins yourself to get rid of them, and you're glad of it now. He goes back and forth for a while, collecting your pillow, your skin care products, your small radio that barely managed to get a reception down here, but you couldn't bare to part with. Each time he'd ask you where you wanted him to put it down, carefully creating a space that consisted of the both of you.

On day four you had finally woken up in his arms again, wondering how you could have ever forgotten this feeling. When he noticed you were awake he had moved to place a delicate kiss on your lips, basking in the simplicity of the fact that he could. He had told you he had a surprise for you today, and you couldn't help how giddy you already got from the mere thought of what it could be. But it was oh so much better than you could have imagined, because today Finnick took you to the surface. How he managed to get you past all the checkpoints was beyond you, and when you asked he had simply said he had friends in all the right places.

It was a bit of a walk to the spot he wanted to take you, but you revelled in the sunlight against your face, needing to squint your eyes to see properly with how bright the sun was but too blissed to care. The high grass rustled against your bare legs as you continued to walk, and the tickling sensation brought back so many fond memories. When you finally made it to the clearing it was a sight from a dream. The tree next to the lake provided a shadow you could both comfortably lay in as the smell of the fresh water blessed your senses once more. The wildflowers adorning the space around you were once you could recall from back home, with a few others you couldn't identify. Finnick had picked a few, placing them behind your ear as he talked about what the flower meant. A myosotis, he had called it, representing true love and dedication. He told you about the myth behind the forget-me-nots, how they had been afraid of being forgotten by the gods, and you had vowed in return to never spend a day without thinking of him again.

During the fifth day you didn't do much of anything special, but you supposed that depends on your definition of the word. Finnick had made dandelion tea from flowers he had collected yesterday, the familiar taste bringing back a sense of nostalgia for a time that you wouldn't be able to return to. You had once told him your mother used to make it when you were sick, and ever since he would go collect them by the cliffs for you. You had insisted it was too much work that he didn't need to worry himself with, he had countered that he enjoyed the view where they grew anyway, and really, he was going for himself as much as for you. Maybe he had simply been trying to get you to stop fussing over the subject, maybe it had really been true.

You spend the day talking to your friends, reminiscing in regained memories and filling in gaps that you couldn't on your own. As you sat next to Johanna she talked on about the days Finnick spent longing after you, claiming he was alright wirh being just friends, but she was convinced that if any of her friends looked at her the way he looked at you she would have suckerpunched them.

On the sixth day you had begged Finnick train with you, saying how you wanted to get your strength back, how you missed the exercise and the content feeling of aching muscles. He had been reluctant, of course he had been, but once you had managed to drag him onto the training mat he revelled in it. He couldn't deny he had missed sparring with you, the action so effortless with you. He had made fun of how you threw your punches, saying you had to extent your arms further to complete the motion, but he was the one not protection his core properly while fixating on you. It had been good to feel your body in motion again, he was still stronger than you, knocking the breath out of your lungs once be stopped holding back, but you were still faster, getting the drop on him in the split seconds he was distracted. The manner in which your muscle memory still held up, the way in which you still used the same techniques without meaning to, it was good to know there are some things people can't take from you.

The seventh day you picked your routine back up. Waking up to an empty bed but not lonely, his side was still warm as you rolled over. Once you opened your eyes you saw the cup of coffee and the note on the bedside table. Finnick knew you never slept for long after he left, somehow he still knew. He had been given some time off during your recovery, but district 13 didn't stand still and they had needed his help. You weren't expected back yet, but the sense of purpose was one that you were always glad to have. You drank the coffee he left you as you got dressed, smiling as he had made it exactly to your liking, even if he used to complain you couldn't even call it coffee anymore with that much sugar in it. And so you went back to work, moving to scribble a quick message on the back of the note if he came back looking for you, not that he needed it, somehow he would always know where you were.

In the past week you had learned that a love as great as the one you shared with Finnick could never be forgotten, not really, because no matter how many memories faded, there would always come new ones. And soon, even though you didn't know it yet, Finnick would give you his mother's ring once more, and this time you would remember everything that led you here, and you would remember saying yes.

[lookforsomeoneelse]

Just wanted to say that I love your work and can't wait for more also if you ever run out of ideas then here I had these in my head it's the only things in there so take good care of them please (.1 what if after they failed to bring the reader to them they went to the reader to reverse isekai style. 2 {not sure of your boundaries when it comes to writing so please ignore this if you feel uncomfortable with it also sorry if it makes you uncomfortable} what if reader is hurt like self harm/ assault/ robbery or something like that how would the characters react would they be mad?. 3 what if you made a hand made gift for every character how will they react and for my last idea how would they react to the reader singing or cooking or even the characters reading a fanfic about the reader maybe even a book the reader made?) anyway that's all that's left in this head but remember to take breaks even if you don't feel like you need one trust me you do burn out isn't something that's fun also remember that even if your mind plays tricks on you and tries to put you down remember that you are loved and appreciated also take care of yourself to many people aren't doing that and I don't want to be anyone's mom yet

From 🐉

wow

cool first emoji anon

alright uh

i’m gonna split this into parts

writing the first and second suggestion first because i think they would work well together

Started creation on: 7/7/2024

cw for (implied?) death and the incredible tension and maybe some other things

Breathe in.

Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Somebody is in your house. Don’t panic. Whoever it is doesn’t know you’re here. It’s a small, cramped space that you’ve hidden in, but you don’t notice that fact when your life is on the line.

You’re not sure if the intruder is armed or not, but you aren’t giving up your disguise to find out.

A long creak of the door notifies you that they’re definitely approaching your safe haven- which is slowly becoming a danger zone.

You place both hands around your mouth to try and mask some of the sound your breathing produces.

You can hear footsteps.

The light is let in.

You let out a scream.

_________________________________________

They- more specifically the combined intellect of the geniuses of the realm that stood- were sure.

Blue moon the chances may be, the geniuses could hold and draw upon fortune and fate just for this very moment, as the imaginary concepts were drawn in by the thought of the madness they were going to commit once again-

They were trying to see their beloved Guide once again. Having learnt their lessons from the last attempt, the new collider was much more durable and steady; and more importantly, it was safer. Because now the devotees weren’t just attempting to bring the Guidance to them, no, they were trying to transfer theirselves to Their realm.

“Is everything in order? We don’t want to fail a second time, don’t we?” Walking down like a bride on the aisle, the (most definitely) unmarried Herta stared at her work partner, Screwllum.

“Affirmation: Absolutely. The Absolute Exclusion Harness is ready for use. All we need now is for someone to use it. Question: Who will take up the mantle?”

“Me, of course! I had the Harness tailored to my proportions, after all.”

Screwllum paused for a moment, his CPU processing the information given to him.

“…Question: You… brought your actual body here?”

The puppet that Herta was using shut down and fell limp, its eyes going dark as a sign of lost connection. Herta- The real, in the flesh, Herta- waltzed into the room. She looked more mature than most of her puppets, though still quite young for her certain age.

“Of course. What kind of acolyte would I be if I couldn’t even see my master in person?”

”Affirmation: You already know the answer.”

They both remained silent for that fleeting moment, before Herta decided to make her move.

“Start it up.”

_________________________________________

It’s a small, cramped space that she appears in, but she can manage. She knows already that it will lead to the greatest moment of her lowly life.

“Looks like the harness didn’t come with me,” She mused, “I’ll have to improve on the design…. that can wait, though.”

She opens the door to what she assumes is a closet, letting the light in. She ponders why The Almighty would live in such poor conditions compared to what They deserve.

A corpse falls out of the closet she was just in. It brings her disgust.

And then she sees who the corpse is- or rather was.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono nononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononononono

She hadn’t cried in a long time. Her eyes began to pour tears, and when no more were left, she cried blood. Like a child scared of the dark, with a closed door and no nightlight, she held her God ever closer, trying to find some sort of signal that They were still alive- breathing, pulse, brain activity, anything.

In place of her dreams, now there was an eternal nightmare.

Like a banshee, she- and the rest of the universe she called home- would weep.

_________________________________________

First Edition completed on 7/10/2024.

A/N: wow procrastination hit me hard. also i am very sorry for the low quality ending. maybe i might make edits to this? anyway i have more to work on so i’ll get back to the other suggestions later

[manikas-whims]

Since Xavier is so little prince coded is mc the lone rose 🌹 back on his planet or the fox 🦊

Ohhh wow Anon..I didn't want to think too much on this, mostly because I read The Little Prince like..years ago and the plot isn't that coherently in my head but let's see..

The obvious interpretation can be..

Xavier is the little prince, traveling through the space, wandering on all these planets, learning something new everyday, learning from the people he meets and in turn teaching them something as well..

Queen MC should represent the rose, the Prince’s beloved whom he has left. In the book, the Prince leaves the Rose due to her vain, proud and naive behaviour. But here in Love and Deepspace, the Prince has left his beloved in order to save her from the fate destined for her..In a way, the rose has always been the major source of motivation for his travels..

Then..that must imply that the Fox represents the current timeline MC? In a way, yeah you could say that. The Fox becomes a dear friend and teaches the prince the significance of people in his life. About how one person in this sea of so many, becomes important because of the connection we share with said person, and the time we spend cultivating said relationship with them. The Fox calls this “taming”. According to the fox, “to tame means to establish ties.”

“If you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world.” says the Fox.

And since Xavier has left his planet, as well as his timeline and met the current MC, they both have been slowly taming each other i.e. they've been slowly establishing a bond with each other with every encounter and moment spent together in the main story.

Now in The Little Prince..

The Fox teaches the Prince the importance of ties and significance of one person compared to the rest around them:

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

And the Fox makes the Prince realize how dear his beloved Rose is to him, and that he has a responsibility towards the Rose:

“You mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed. You’re responsible for your rose.”

So if Love and Deepspace writers take the same route..

then in accordance, there will come a point that Xavier might have to leave the current MC and go back to his own timeline’s Queen MC (which is exactly what he came back in time for) because he has a responsibility. And the responsibility in this context is that he vowed to himself that he'll save her life. Get her out of this cursed fate of dying and being brought back to life over and over for the sake of a planet.

BUT!

THIS IS A CHINESE OTOME GAME! And yes while that justifies nothing, I firmly believe that it is highly unlikely that the game might follow this route..

..simply because Xavier himself has never acted as such. He's been nothing but protective towards the current MC. He's been killing his own ex-teammates from the Backtrackers in order to protect MC. And he doesn't hesitate in doing so which in itself cement his standpoint and his feelings towards the current MC.

Also, I believe that..IN ESSENCE, QUEEN MC AND CURRENT MC HAVE THE SAME SOUL, AND ARE THE SAME PERSON.

So our MC doesn't need to be the Rose or the Fox. She most likely is both a cherished friend and a lover to Xavier because she is afterall, the same person. With the amount of times she's died (or forced into dying), it's obvious that the Queen MC from Xavier's actual timeline could very well be the current MC who's died so many times that in a distant future, she is reborn and exists in the same era as the one that Xavier comes from.

My word is not absolute, and this is still a very rough way to put it all into words. But I do firmly believe that that one thing that the antis keep using to antagonise Xavier will not come true because he's always been in love with ONE person and our MC as well as the Queen MC are THAT one and the same person.

» But hey! If Xavier does betray current timeline MC, then we might possibly get a plotline/route like I posted about [HERE] and I am not averse to that.

[mrs-kodzuken]

K.K.T.K on my wrist ♡

Pairing: Kōtarō Bokuto x Keiji Akaashi x fem!reader x Tetsurō Kuroo x Kenma Kozume

WC: 1.9k

Genre: soulmate au, fluff, slice of life

CW: fem!reader, four soulmates, poly relationship, fluff, very soft and sweet

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

When I was a little girl, I thought about how a prince would show up outside my bedroom window. He'd take me away to his castle and marry me, treating me with kindness.

Then we'd live happily ever after, just like in the movies.

However, the hardships that came with being a princess made me think that I could handle them. As it turns out, that's not how life is at all.

Not at all.

Plenty of hardships are thrown at you left and right. and it's all about how well you deal with it.

As I got older, my fantasies became more realistic. I wanted to live a small, easy life with the person I so dearly loved.

A small child or kitten running around, giving us entertainment.

Living out our lives to the fullest and being content with simplicity. We didn't need anything more or anything less.

That's how I've always imagined it.

As it turns out, life does throw things at you, but this one was one of the best hardships I'll ever came to love.

And it all begins at the young age of sixteen. A fresh high school student, worried about what people thought about them.

Their hair, clothes, grades, and sometimes even a boyfriend or girlfriend.

However, most of those thoughts got quickly brushed away. On a person's sixteenth birthday, initials will appear on their dominant wrist.

The absolute heart racing feeling full of wonder of who your special significance other could be.

Maybe it was someone who lives halfway across the world. Maybe someone who goes to the same school as you. Maybe someone you grew up with.

Or maybe someone you just happen to know from the internet.

Whatever it may be, they will be bound to meet. Some people say it's fate. Some say even destiny.

However, I just thought it was a clear misconception for me.

I had my dreams significantly crushed by four initials on my wrist. Oh, how I used to despise them—the hate that fueled through me when I looked at my wrist.

Looking back, it was harsh and childish. Life is unexpected; things happen. However, this one was one that's stuck in my favorites, even if it was the opposite of everything I always wanted.

I wouldn't trade it for the world.

The bedroom window was open a bit as the rain fell from the sky. Small devices lit up here and there around the room.

It was an easy night for all of us. Even Kōtarō was quiet, which sparked an interest in me. I was keeping myself busy by reading a book I had been wanting to catch up on.

While also laying on Keiji, who had been next to me reading some other kind of book.

Our beloved Kenma was in the next room over, streaming. The door was slightly ajar, leaving space for the blue rays of light to show on the wall.

I could hear small splashes of water coming from the bathroom. A small, unnoticeable smile gracing my strawberry-colored lips.

No matter how many times I knew water calmed that beautiful boy down, I couldn't get over it.

I had run the bath myself, even adding a few bathroom toys and bubbles, despite it being the late hours of the night. And despite that he was a grown man, we don't in this house.

If I had listened hard enough, I could hear Tetsu downstairs. The soft noise of most likely midnight snacks being made.

It seemed as if we were all content in the house we called home. A shiver ran down my back as I felt the soft breeze come from the window.

The skies were pitch black; if it were a normal night, I'd be on the roof with Tetsu and Keiji. We'd point out the constellations and watch the stars.

It was one of my favorite things to do with them.

If it were later in the afternoon and the sun was slightly straying from the clouds and the rain was soft, Kōtarō would be dancing in the rain with me.

We'd sing our hearts out, then get scolded by our lovely boyfriend, Keiji, who quite possibly seemed like the only sane one in the house.

Besides Kenma half of the time.

The days that it was sunny, and I wished silently that it would rain. Kenma would softly take my hand and lead me to the kitchen.

Even though we both shared the hatred of sunny days, we'd bake something.

Whether it be healthy or not, burnt or just right, muffins or cupcakes. So, our house constantly smells like a bakery. When we wouldn't feel up to baking, a movie was our next best thing.

On hard days when I felt like I really needed something to just get my mind off for a little while, Kuroo was my go-to person.

We'd run to the park and back, putting the stress into exercising. Sometimes, just sitting down with him on a park bench and watching everyone pass by was enough.

However, Keiji was by far the one who comforted me in a strange but loving way. He's the only one I'd talk to. I'd spill all my thoughts to, read a book with, cry to, and observe with.

Being very compatible with each and every one of them made life exciting and, oddly, calming.

"Are you cold? We can shut the window if you'd like." Keiji turned his head toward me, pausing his reading.

"I'll put on a hoodie," I said, shaking my head and loving the smell of rain. However, he knew that that would be my answer.

I'd always wrap up in multiple clothing layers instead of shutting the window.

It was a habit.

I crawled away from him as I watched Keiji place my bookmark in the place I was reading.

Slipping on my pink slippers, I walked out of the room, heading towards the clothing room.

Who knew that living with four other people would bless you with an enormously large house? However, the income we all made could quite possibly also be a reason.

As I walked past Kenma's gaming room, I peered in. My eyes were watching him a bit, I could tell even from when he was turned around that his eyes were glued to the screen.

Knowing Kenma, I knew he wasn't wearing his glasses that protected his eyes. He needed them now more than ever, since it's the late hours of the night.

Backing out, I quickly but quietly moved downstairs. His glasses were on the living room coffee table, if I remembered correctly.

When I was on the first floor, I moved to the living room, where his glasses were. Picking them up, I felt the coldness from how long they've been left alone.

The kitchen light on, curiosity peering through me. I peeked in at the sight of Tetsu sitting on the counter, scrolling on his phone.

He was most likely trying to figure out what we'd be feeling up for to eat after rummaging through our cabinets. God, he could be doing nothing and still look so handsome.

I smiled a little and headed back upstairs. Opening Kenma's door more, I could hear soft grunting from him.

Probably because of a level he was having trouble with.

Setting the glasses close to his keyboard, I leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on the temple. He nodded, his cheekbones glowing with a rouge pink shade.

That small peck meant, 'Please don't forget to wear them.' I could always express myself with small things without actually saying them to Kenma and Keiji.

Usually, I'd have to express my thoughts in a verbal way when it came down to Kō and Tetsu. However, I knew not everyone would be an introvert or just a mind reader.

When I left the room, leaving it cracked like before, I saw his game pause and him slip on the clear glasses.

I made my way back to the room, forgetting about the hoodie I needed to get. When I entered, I saw Kōtarō curled up against Keiji.

His hair was slightly dripping wet, making me cringe a bit.

I spotted his towel, which he had brought back with him instead of hanging up in the bathroom. I softly grabbed it and made my way to him.

He perked up; his yellow eyes seemed to shine a bit brighter in the dark.

"The water will make the bed wet, hon" I softly said, lightly ruffling his hair with the towel.

His arms wrapped around my waist as I continued to get the water out. Wetness and comfortable covers do not mix in my book or even on my book.

I could hear him sigh happily as I played with his hair, trying to get out all the water.

Glancing over to Keiji, his glasses were off, and our books had been set elsewhere. It's movie time.

Kenma would come from his gaming in around fifteen to twenty minutes from now. We'd all cuddle on the bed and watch a cartoon movie.

I walked to the bathroom, setting Kōtarō's towel on his hook. In a house of five people, organization was the best key.

After I cut the lights off, I walked back to see a movie picked up and Kuroo coming upstairs with our midnight snacks.

When I made sure everyone was comfortable in bed, I went to get Kenma. I could basically feel the exhaustion radiating off him. Knowing that he wouldn't get off the game unless someone actually got him.

As I got closer, I gently put my arms around his back. I did it every single time I wanted him to get off the game. I could tell he was fighting himself, wanting to go another round but agreeing.

Soon his system was off and his left hand locked in my right one, walking into our bedroom. We climbed into bed; the rotation was different this weekend.

Each day or week, we'd switch the rotation of who gets to spoon who. It wasn't my idea since I couldn't care less if I was spooning or getting spooned.

However, being the only girl it was kinda nice with everyone being bigger than me, it was kind of hot some nights too.

This time around, Tetsu was spooning me, and I happened to be spooning Kōtarō. After we finished the snacks, I couldn't resist the sleep, which called my name.

Since there were five of us, we couldn't possibly fit in a bed. So we decided to just get one of the biggest; even if we did spoon, I'm sure at least one of us would end up kicking another off the bed.

This has always been how our stay-up nights have been and I wouldn't change it for the world.

When I was a little girl, I thought about how a prince would show up outside my bedroom window. He'd take me away to his castle and marry me.

Well, now that I'm older, it's safe to say that I've got four princes who I was fated with. They agreed to live together with me, and the need to marry wasn't in our minds.

We all knew the reassurance of each other never leaving the other. But if one of us did happen to want to marry? I guess we could.

But this is the end of our weekend night and there was nothing out there that would make me give it up.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my book “Haikyuu x Reader One Shots” on Wattpad. I hope you enjoyed and let me know if you have any requests!

the header is made by me, please like/reblog if used <3

[thicctails]

Gravity Falls is finally popping off again, so naturally my obsession with it has been dragged out from deep within me and thrust to the front of my mind, so here's a collection of various au ideas i have.

Explanations below! Contains Book of Bill Spoilers!!

A different form, a different time: Due to a widescale time and space fuck up, both Bill Cipher and the Axolotl get reincarnated (temporarily?) as humans. Specifically as older teens/very young adults. Hot topic wannabe and pink gumball son of a bitch must learn to navigate the hell that is mortality and human puberty as they set out on a road trip to try and reach the only place they can think of to find answers: Gravity Falls.

Obligatory dragon au: exactly what it says on the tin.

Time Stuck... with a twist: Something goes horribly wrong with the Time tape, resulting in Mabel, Dipper, and a 12 year old Billy Cipher being sent to the 80's. Trapped in the past/future, depending on who you ask, the preteens end up on the run with a mullet-wearing grifter with a familiar face, and must learn to work together to set things right. However, having two Bills' will make things much harder than usual, especially since one absolutely adores his star-marked humans and their weird Larger Human, while the other wants nothing more than to watch them burn.

Monster Falls but they're both Unitaurs: Mabel and Dipper are twins, let them be the same monster you cowards.

Under the Falls: This is one of my older ones! Its a strange little mer! au, where a younger Stan and Ford must take in their niblings after a monster hunter slaughters the rest of their family. Baby mers cant disguise themselves, so they must stay in the nearby lake. Luckily, their cat-eyed deer friend is more than happy to keep them company, and take them on Non-Grunkle-Approved adventures.

I Grow Maddened (From Grief): In the Book of Bill, we learn that Mabel and Dipper don't make it to 13 in pretty much every other timeline. Now, Bill 100% could be bullshitting, but i like to think thats its at least partially true: Dippers and Mabels don't tend to last in the Multiverse. But what about their Grunkles? Surely there are quite a few timelines where one set of twins is left to mourn the other.

This au follows a Ford that lost his Dipper and Mabel to a dangerous creature that escaped confinement while he was distracted by his work. It managed to also near fatally wound Stanley and nearly take one of Ford's eyes before he managed to kill it, leaving him with two dead family members and his twin on the brink. Consumed by guilt and refusal to live in a world without his beloved niblings, Ford set Stanley up on cryogenic life support and managed to lie his way into more time by convincing the twin's parents that both of them would be more successful under his tutelage.

Once everything was in place, he threw himself back into the multiverse (this time with a way back) and began hopping through other timelines, looking for the perfect replacements for his missing family. Man spirals hard, eventually deciding that the twins, when he gets them back, would not be leaving his and Stanley's sides again, because his twin is also not leaving. After all, their parents clearly dont value them like they should, and Ford knows that it will be easy to remove any memory of the twins all together.

Euclid + Scalene live (and get better children): Somehow spared from the genocide of their entire dimension, the deeply wounded Cipher parents eventually find themselves inexplicably drawn to a little backwater planet. The two find themselves becoming attached to a pair of twins that seem blessed by the Axolotl itself, and although their last child had caused violence on a previously unseen scale, both Euclidians find that they want to try again. The Ciphers become mostly unseen guardians to the little Pines, content to simply watch over them and bring them sweet dreams while they struggle to hold themselves together.

Then Bill shows up, and everything goes to shit.

[hearts4robs]

𝐈 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐧, 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭.🖋️

———

Fandom. DC - Batman - Red Hood

Pairing. Jason Todd x gn!reader

Genre. fluff/soft/sfw🍊

Word count. idk, not a lot

Warnings. A bit of cursing

Req. This was not requested, I just felt motivated and inspired(for once)!!

Summary. Just Jason reading and always having a book on him cuz my mans a nerd and I love him for it🤞😛 this is not proof-read!!!

Notes. Idk how to explain this layout or what it is, but it’s some kind of mix of a short drabble and some head-canons, yk?

———

“Did you pack an extra pen?”

“‘Course I did, I always do.”

Jason almost sounded a little annoyed at you, not that he really was. He always brought extra pens with him when it came to books.

“Just making sure.” You say, raising your hands in defeat with a soft, breathy scoff. Jason rolls his eyes at you, hurriedly grabbing his bag, books clattering against each other as he swings it over his shoulder.

“I’ll be out then.” He announces, messily stepping into his shoes. You walk to the hallway, arms crossed over your chest as you lean against the wall, watching, as your big, beefy, book-worm of a boyfriend struggle to shove his feet into his shoes.

“Just untie them and step into them normally, Jay-“

“Oh, piss off, I’m behind schedule.” He quickly cuts you off, finally slipping his heel into the shoe successfully.

“Alright, alright.” You chuckle, stepping forward as Jason yanks his jacket off of its assigned hook. “Bye,” you kiss his cheek, a matching kiss meeting your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. “love you! Say hi to Alfred from me, please.” You remind him, both that you love him and to say hi to his beloved (and absolutely amazing) butler.

“Will do.” He says simply, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Love you too, stay safe and don’t burn down my kitchen.” Jason reminds you, hastily, as he makes his way out the door, jacket carelessly resting over his arm, rummaging through his bag.

“Our kitchen, Jason!” You yell after him, shaking your head with a stupid grin on your face, the door to your apartment falling closed. You turn around to leave and return to the kitchen before the door swings open again.

“Babe, I need my pen. Have you seen it?”

You whip around, frowning with a soft, confused look as Jason stands up the doorway, halfway inside, open book folding in hand.

“Did you not just say you had it?” You question, cocking your head slightly to the side as you go to the nearest countertop, moving various books to try and search for his pen.

Jason rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair.

“Just give me my pen, please.” He pleads, a mix of annoyance and embarrassment lacing into his tone. You laugh, grabbing his pen from a half-finished book. You walk to the hallway, throwing it to him. He grins, shoving it between his teeth in a small grin before he waves, disappearing out the door again.

—— ≛ ——

He forgets his pens all the time. He can’t help it, let my poor man be.

He always has a book on him. As a man who mainly wears cargo pants, he always has a book in one of those side pockets. A book small enough to fit and slip right into and out of his pocket when needed. 5 minute bus ride? He’s reading. 10 minutes walk? You best believe he’s reading while walking.

Jason writes every first thought into his book. He analyses everything, scribbling down on the pages, slapping on sticky notes if he runs out of space.

He cracks the spines of all his books(same). He doesn’t mind the messy look, he likes to think they look a bit more, loved, if that makes sense.

He doesn’t own a single bookshelf. All his books are piled on anything but bookshelves. Sure, the mansion has a library, but so does he. In the form of a kitchen cabinet, top of his fridge, beneath his bead and the floor. Works just fine!

He has a very specific system when it comes to writing in his books. He’ll underline a lot of stuff, but it depends on the thickness of his line, what the line makes him feel. The thicker the line, the more emotion.

He once got a book where whenever a character spoke, there was no “__”, not even a -__-. He spent double the time reading the book because he to re-read and self insert the “__”’s. Never bought a book from that author again.

#proudcolleenhooverhater (he’s never read her books but Babs said they were a no-go either way)

He loves to gift you books he’s already read and annotated. Once gifted you a book and whenever something reminded him of you, he’d make a little star beside the line.

This man cannot spell the word ‘lullaby’. (This has nothing to do with the headcanons, I just thought abt it.)

Jason has a 36 hours long playlist for reading (and assigned vinyls if he feels more for vinyls)

He does not give a fuck about where he is, he will read if he wants to. Gala? Ok. Family dinner? Dick stfu, he’s reading. Patrol? He has cargo pants, let him be.

Jason uses reading glasses but only when he’s at home, in the safe walls of his apartment because he will not be giving his siblings bullying material FOR FREE.