#this feels like its probably wildly ooc

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 1

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem) A/N: I don't know what I'm doing here, I'm not even much of a DC fan, but Jason Todd has quickly become my latest hyper fixation character (Harley Quinn too, do I just have a thing for Joker victims???) so ... thank you for giving me a place to put this energy I guess! 😂 I'm not super confident on the characterizations, but I'm going with it because I like it. If it's wildly ooc ... that tracks, given that the only DC comic I've read is Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Read it, or don't, I just needed to get the thoughts out of my head. The art doesn't belong to me, but the writing does. Please do not post elsewhere!

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, starting out fluffy, will probably get NSFW later so minors DNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

word count: 1.7k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

In a city known for its masked fighters, you learn pretty quickly that everyone and everything is a potential threat. Every approaching stranger on the street, every loud sound behind you, every dark alleyway. Being bigger than me certainly isn't a prerequisite to being a danger, but it does have a way of setting off my mental alarms. I've found that big men are used to getting their way, and they get all sorts of bent out of shape if you deny them their wishes. Especially when they think they're doing you a favor.

It died down a bit after high school; I learned to exist in public with ‘fuck off’ stamped across my face. Headphones on, reading a book, intentionally seated at the table furthest from the other cafe patrons. All the typical signs of someone who wants to be left alone; nothing about me said ‘please come talk to me'. So I was understandably on edge when I noticed someone standing by the chair across from me. I look up just a bit, gesturing to the chair with a nod. Silent consent to take it back to his table and leave me to my book.

No such luck. The man simply smiled and mimed taking headphones off. Putting a bored look on my face, I moved one off my ear. “... Hm?”

“Hi! I'm sorry to bother you, but my brother thinks you're really beautiful and is refusing to come tell you himself.” 

I could feel my expression turning to stone. “... What is this, middle school?”

His cheerful grin faltered ever so slightly; “hey, I know it's a bit silly, but he's awkward around cute girls, so what's a brother to do, ya know?”

I stared him down; “... You're not fooling anyone. Move on.”

“... Sorry, ‘fooling anyone’?”

“It’s not funny, it’s not even hurtful the 20th time, it's just annoying. Go. Away.” It was a lie; it was always painful to be on the receiving end of these pranks. But that was what these guys wanted, so I wasn't going to tell him that. My headphones back in place, the guy slunk away.

Ten minutes later, another person was standing by the chair. I pretended not to see him, continuing to read my book, until he plopped down in the seat. I looked up slowly and he smiled, another oddly warm smile, leaning forward on his elbows.

An incredibly put-out sigh later, I slid the headphones off one ear again. “What?”

“Hi, I'm Tim! I'm not sure what exactly my brother said to you, but I wanted to let you know - we're not trying to prank you or something. Our brother is just way too awkward with girls. It's painful to watch, really, so we figured we'd give him a hand.” He spoke much too fast for me to get a word in. I blinked a bit, raising an eyebrow.

“... You frat boys are really committing to the bit these days, huh?”

“Huh? No, really, I promise!”

My headphones were nearly back into place when a child showed up. His impatient expression matched how I felt about the whole situation. “As usual, Drake, your plans are far too convoluted to be effective. Watch and learn.”

He turned to me, nothing about his demeanor changing; “hello. Todd said we shouldn't bother you because you ‘clearly want to be alone’, but I am convinced the only way to stop their nonsense is if he comes over. May he have a moment of your time?”

Frowning a little, I stared at the kid. He stared right back, neither of us blinking for a solid minute as we sussed each other out. His expression barely changed, but the boredom in his eyes turned into determination. “... Well, you're definitely not a frat boy. So I'll make you a deal; you may report back that he has permission to come say hi. If he doesn't choose to, that's the end of this little charade. And if either of them” I gestured to the one sitting at my table; “comes back over here, I start stabbing. Got it?”

The boy nodded once, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smirk. “You have my word.” He dragged the other man out of the chair by his shirt, pulling him stumbling toward their table. That was when I saw him. The only person at their table who hadn't come over yet. Even hunched over the table he was enormous, probably close to six feet tall; exactly the kind of man I typically avoided. The kid spoke sharply, pointing in my direction, and his head shot up to look in my direction. Even from across the spacious patio, I could see his face turning red. The obnoxious, cocky smirk I was expecting to see was entirely missing; instead he seemed almost confused.

Headphones back on but turned off so I could hear if he approached, I returned to my book. But I only got through a few pages before the first one shouted; “and offer to get her another coffee or something!”

I looked over to see the tall one frozen halfway between our tables, a look on his face like he was considering jumping over the patio fence to get away. His demeanor reminded me of a lost puppy, and I couldn't help the chuckle that rose up out of my throat. I bookmarked my page, set the book aside, and slid my headphones down around my neck. I really thought he was about to bolt until I lifted one hand, curling my fingers to gesture for him to continue toward me.

He stopped short by a good several feet, eyeing the distance between himself and the chair, and took one extra step back. It seemed as if he was hyper aware of just how much he loomed over me; the way he stood was like he was trying to will himself to be smaller, and he kept his hands at his sides. “Um … hi. … Sorry, this is … this is really weird …”

I nodded, watching him. “It is a bit. … Todd, was it?”

“Jay… Jason.”

“Not Todd?”

“Jason Todd. Damian calls me Todd, he thinks using people's last names keeps them at an arm's length…” Jason Todd. The name felt familiar, but I couldn't place why. He continued to ramble about how important tone was in determining whether this Damian kid was referring to you with affection or disdain, and I watched him. He was admittedly very cute; he had a sort of a bad boy aesthetic -leather jacket, dark clothes, a white streak in his hair, some unusual scars on his face and arms-, which juxtaposed interestingly with the gentleness in his voice, bright eyes, and awkward mannerisms. That was actually the thing that made the most sense about this situation; bikers are often secret teddy bears.

“... Jason?”

He looked up at me, one hand sheepishly making its way into his hair. “Yeah, sorry, you want me to go. I'll get them to stop harassing you, so sorry-”

“Actually, I was going to say you don't have to stand the whole time.” I gestured to the chair across from me.

He hesitated, watching me. “... Y- you don't want me to go?”

I smiled softly and shook my head. “Sit?”

He quickly obeyed, a hesitant smile on his face, which was almost immediately hidden by his hand when his brothers whooped from their table. “... God, I'm so sorry … th- they mean well, really, they're not trying to be weird …”

I laughed softly, “it's fine, that's what siblings do, right?”

“... I guess so … I've been sort of … away for a while, but I guess this is pretty standard sibling behavior. … Right?”

“I mean, a little more insistent than mine, but not too far outside the realm of what I’d consider normal.” I shrugged, finishing my chai latte.

He smiled slightly, considering that. “... Hm … um … c- can I get you another?” He gestured to my cup.

“... Sure, I've got time.”

The pleased grin on his face as he looked away to flag down a server surprised me. Then again, everything about him was surprising. Still, no one had ever looked at me quite like that before… 

The server sauntered over, clearly curious about my new companion. Jason smiled brightly; “Hi, can we get another for the lady? And I'll have a medium black coffee, sweet, please.”

Huh. He called me a ‘lady’. Not a girl, or a chick, a lady. That was … also surprising. We chatted for a little while, sipping our coffees, and tried to ignore his staring brothers. He was incredibly awkward, in a sweet, endearing way. I got the impression that he wasn't fully comfortable, but chalked it up to how weirdly this all started. After a while, the first one returned, a small grimace on his face.

I raised an eyebrow; “I'm pretty sure I told the little one that the next one of you to come over was getting stabbed.”

“I know, I know! I'm so sorry, but Jay, we gotta go. Bruce texted…”

That was when it clicked; why I knew the name Jason Todd. He was a Wayne … his death had dominated the news cycle for a week. His miraculous, frankly poorly explained, return was the story for at least two.

He looked, torn, between me and his brother. “Oh … um …”

The man I finally recognized as Dick Grayson leaned forward and fake-whispered, “the words you're looking for are ‘can I have your phone number'?”

Jason swatted him away, blushing bright red; “Seriously, Dick? … well, can I-”

His ears were turning red as I held my hand out for his phone. I added my contact info and, feeling unusually bold, I added ☕💖 after my name while Jason dropped a couple of bills on the table; I smiled a bit, realizing he was leaving enough to cover my first drink for me too. I passed his phone back, enjoying the look of wonder on his face when he checked the screen. The way he whispered my name, like a prayer meant only for god's ears, had my stomach doing backflips.

“thanks … I'll call you?”

“Sounds good. I'm a night owl, so not too early, yeah?”

He nodded eagerly. “Not too early, promise.”

Next ->

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for bitching about fics I dislike on my blog?

as a foreword, this is kind of a non-issue and no one's ever told me to stop, but I'm curious what other people think of fandom etiquette.

the fandom: a fairly small one. 2.4k fics on ao3 small. I recognize most people posting in its tumblr tag small. if I tell you the name of the source you'd almost definitely be able to find me small.

the source: pornographic, which means everyone involved is or should be an adult. it's BL with a switch MC, but the fandom overwhelmingly prefers bottom MC/top LIs (love interests), to the point where I've had people be astonishingly rude to me because my favorite character is a bottom LI and some of my friends have been outright harassed for the same. I used to not care about sex positions in the slightest, but now when I see bottom MC fanworks I can't help but remember how poorly I was treated.

the fics: wildly and inexplicably popular, even though they are, frankly, poorly written. it's eternal bottom MC turned up to 11, complete with copious amounts of OOCness in order to turn every ship into the worst ye olde yaoi gender roles dynamic you can imagine. it's things like MC, canonically a 23yo plank of a dudeguy, being written as a big titted milf in his 40s (which is made more confusing by the fact that one of the LIs is already a big titted milf). it's also things like the MC being written as disliking sex and having to be coerced into it when one of the most charming things about him is that he's a hilarious sex pest, or writing the LIs sexually harassing the MC when they really would never do that. I've likened it to replacing the characters with OCs that share the same name and my friends have agreed with me. I'm honestly convinced that the author and his readers don't actually like any of the characters if they feel the need to change everyone so thoroughly.

why I might be an asshole: it's assholish to hate on free fanworks, and I've bitched about these fics on my public tumblr blog. the fandom is small enough that there's a non-zero chance of it getting back to the author and a reasonable chance that fans of the fics have seen my bitching. I'm probably projecting the hostility I've received onto someone who's done absolutely nothing to me, and I am absolutely just straight up jealous that their fics get better stats than mine. I may also be being an asshole to myself, because being critical of other people's fics has made my hypercritical of my own.

why I don't think I'm an asshole: I think everyone has the right to be bad at things, but I also think everyone has the right to be a little hater. I don't put the fandom tag on these posts; they stay on my blog and my blog alone, and if later on I feel like I was unfairly vitriolic I'll delete the posts. I only post on tumblr because I'm certain the author in question only uses twitter, which dramatically lowers the odds of him stumbling across my posts. the fics are so popular that it's definitely possible that their fans would see my posts, but I think it's unlikely that they'd bother looking at my blog because 99% of my posts are about one of the bottom LIs. I have never and would never leave comments on the fics themselves, and I generally try to keep the bitchy posts to a minimum; it's far from a constant thing.

tl;dr - I publicly bitch about fics that (in my opinion) are poorly written and extremely OOC, under the assumption that it's unlikely the author would ever see it. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[nectardaddy]

what's your favorite scary movie? | matsukawa issei

cw/notes: lots of sexual humor, language, they're watching scream idc (quotes in bold are taken directly from the og Scream), scream isn't that scary but let's just pretend it is, I was wheezing while writing this, thank you @mollyrolls (GO READ STOP THE CLOCK MOLLY IS COOKING), and "gothic frat boy mattsun" for the brainrot for this man, probably wildly ooc (borderline crack)

pairing: post timeskip!mattsun x fem!reader , written in second person (you, yours), previously established fwb/situationship

word count: 1.2k

It wasn't often you found yourself hunkered down in a mass of blankets on the couch, usually preferring to do so in the comfort of your own room. Cocooning yourself with your legs pulled up to your chest. It also wasn't common for you to watch a horror film - alone. A shot of adrenaline flowing through your veins at the thriller in front of you. Further setting the mood with lights shut off and a single candle lit on the coffee table. The television reflected off your face, deep reds, blues, and greens etching into features that were on edge. 

So deeply engrossed in the movie your brain shut out everything else, eyes transfixed on the screen as you pulled the blanket a bit closer to yourself. But the sharp twang of your phone ringing made you jerk, letting out a small yelp at the sound as it tore you away from the suspense the movie gave. "Fuck-"

Letting out a small breath, you dropped your shoulders in relief as your eyes slid to your phone. Screen lit up with the name "Issei <3" across it, you picked it up and took another small breath before accepting the call. Leaving the movie to still play in the background, you put the phone up to your ear.

"I'm in your walls." His voice shone through with a laugh before you even managed to say hello.

"Whatever happened to hello? How are you?" Questioning as your eyes flickered back the television screen, multitasking as you spoke to him. Exchanging pleasantries, talking about your day, and listening to him ramble on about work. Not realizing the sound of the movie was up high enough for him to hear, you heard him let out a cackle at the movie.

" Listen here you little bitch, you hang up on me again and I'll gut you like a fish, understand? "

"Damn- I wish you would gut me like a fish."

You rolled your eyes at his comment, a small smile pulling at your lips nonetheless. "Shut up, Issei." But you couldn't help but chuckle regardless, biting back a smirk even though you knew he couldn't see it. "That doesn't even make sense."

“I miss you.” An off kilter comment from him that made you pause, tearing your eyes away from the screen and looking down. A situationship at its finest, you and Matsukawa; talking and spending time with one another so much that others thought you were together - not putting a label on it from a fear of commitment. So his words made your heart jump to your throat, a sinking feeling settling in that was worse than the movie that played in the background.

“I miss you too.”

“ What do you want? - To see what your insides look like. ” 

You heard him stifle a laugh, “same.” Whatever ‘moment’ you had, if you really wanted to call it that, was completely dashed. Rolling your eyes at his crudeness that you had become all too accustomed to. It wasn't unusual for the man to make such remarks, to the point where you believed it was simply in his dna. It was in his nature to be a loveable, sarcastic moron.

“Don’t make me regret saying I miss you, dumbass.” Though you couldn’t help but laugh at the comment as well, but before he could respond he heard an audible crash sound from your television, followed by you taking in a sharp inhale of air. Mumbling a small ‘shit’ under your breath that you hoped he didn't hear - he most certainly did.

“You're scared aren't you?” Asking through a shit eating grin, one you could hear through the phone. You closed your eyes and groaned. “You want me to come over?”

“Watching this was not an in for you to come over.”

“It is now,” he chuckled. “So can I?”

A scream echoed off the walls and rang through the living room. You flinched at the sudden sound and gripped the blanket you had wrapped around yourself in temporary fear. The volume turned up all too loud, you didn’t hear the knock at the door of your apartment. But you most definitely heard the door swing open; whipping your head around and breath catching in your throat at the sound. Letting out a scream before covering your mouth in embarrassment once your eyes locked with familiar brown ones. 

"What's your favorite scary movie?” A grin pulling at his lips, a mischievous one filled with debauchery, before he howled in laughter; closing your door behind him. 

“I should have never let you come over, dickhead.” You felt your heart rate drop, being that it skyrocketed just seconds before, and you let out a sigh. 

“Aw, don’t say that. You love it when I come over.” His sly grin never left his lips as he sat next to you, plopping himself down on the couch and slinging his arm around you. You tried to fight the smile that desperately wanted to show itself, ultimately losing as you looked over to him and rolled your eyes. 

“Unfortunately, I do.” You heard him sigh exasperatedly, moving his other hand to his heart. “You’re the pain in my ass I don’t think I have the heart to get rid of.”

“Damn, you really know how to hurt a man’s feelings.”

“Shut up and watch the movie.”

The next hour was spent with your eyes glued to the screen, flinching and gasping every so often at cheap jump scares from the older slasher film. Matsukawa simply couldn’t help himself in reveling in this, holding you closer to him and giving your arm a squeeze after every jump, after every sharp inhale - to him, it really couldn’t get better than this. Joining you amidst your barrage of blankets sometime within him sitting down; his arm still over you and your head rested on his shoulder. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker down to you. Catching your own eyes, to which you quickly averted back to the screen, only for him to smile.  

“ There's always some stupid bullshit reason to kill your girlfriend. ”

“I would never kill you, by the way.”

His comment made you pause a moment, taken aback by the implications. Never knowing if he was truly serious, always toeing the line of frivolity with every word spoken, you simply brushed it off with a chuckle. “Oh wow, thanks, Issei, I was getting worried for a second.” Matching the energy he gave to you with a smile; to which he turned to you, looking over your features before humming. “Does that make me your girlfriend?” The question slipped from your lips before the thought registered in your mind. Internally kicking yourself for asking something so stupid, and outwardly looking down in mortification.

Another pause. One that lasted a bit too long, your heart sinking into your stomach from dread, thinking you said the wrong thing. Looking down at the fuzzy blanket you had draped around you and grasping it into a fist as unease consumed you. 

“Only if you promise not to become one of those girlfriends that leaves their boyfriend to die in horror movies.” 

You looked up at him once more, confusion written on your face that swiftly turned as you chuckled. A silly smile on his lips that was nothing but caring, a juxtaposition to his normal smirk. “Yeah, I guess I can do that.”

Honorable mentions that I couldn't fit in:

“ Number one: you can never have sex. ”

“Well I guess we're fucked.”

“ Number two: you can never drink or do drugs. ”

“Double fucked.”

banner by @/editsnocturne , divider by @/cold--carnage

[juneberrie]

i don't want you like a best friend - cato hadley

₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ. cato hadley x fem!reader

author's note — ꩜ oooooh my first cato fic!! i hope you guys like it ♡

word count — ☆ 1.2k

warnings — ✦ooc clove probably, cato calling reader "shortstack"

the world stopped when his name was called. my lungs seem to shrink in my chest and my surroundings start to spin. he can't go, he can't go into the games. he can't leave me.

cato steps up to the stage, weaving through the crowd of people. he stands there as some capitol person rifled through the other glass bowl, searching for some poor girls name. he locks eyes with me and shakes his head ever so slightly.

"clove kentwell," the announcer says. a young girl starts to walk forward but before she even made it three feet i scream.

"i volunteer! i volunteer!" i push forward, risking a glance at the girl, clove, who glares at me before realizing why i volunteered. she sighs and gestures for me to proceed.

on wobbly feet, i step up to the stage next to cato. he doesn't even listen to the announcer's speech about the honor we'll bring to our district and what not. he turns to me with a look that says i'm going to kill you and thank you at the same time.

we're ushered into the building and corralled into separate rooms. cato looks back at me with an unreadable expression before the peacekeepers shove us both behind doors.

two minutes pass, but nobody comes in to say goodbye to me. i sigh and turn to the window before hearing the door open. through the reflection in the window, i see clove standing there, flanked by peacekeepers.

i turn to face her and we size each other up before she says something. "so, you and cato?"

immediately i feel my face heat up. "no- i mean, we're friends, is all. nothin' else."

she laughs and takes a step towards me. "sure. anyways, i wanted to wish you luck."

"you're not... mad? that i volunteered for you?" her name clicks and suddenly i register who she is. clove kentwell, one of the academy's top fighters. she's on track to volunteer and become a victor before she's even 17, and she would've become one of the youngest victors if i hadn't volunteered.

"i mean, i'm kind of pissed, but i get more training. better odds of winning next year," she states. one of the peacekeepers informs us that her time is up, and as she walks out of the room, she calls over her shoulder, "may the odds be ever in your favor, lovergirl."

after a while, the peacekeepers escort me and cato into the train station, where his family and clove stand at the front of the crowd. as the train pulls out of the station, cato's little sister screams his name, waving her arms wildly at her brother, and he waves back with a giddy smile. clove catches my eye and winks, and i roll my eyes and turn away from the window.

enobaria stands behind us, along with the announcer, whos name i learn is florentino. she quickly explains what will happen when we get to the capitol; the parade, the training, the interviews. she tells us to start thinking of ideas for angles we could use in the interviews, then instructs us to get something to eat and rest before we arrive.

she and florentino disappear behind a door, leaving me and cato alone.

i make a beeline to the mini-buffet laid out on the table and grab some sort of roll, which when i bite into it, is actually a cheese stick wrapped in fried bread theres a little label beside the plate that says "tequeños". these are the best things i've ever tasted in my life. i moan as i bite into another one, letting the flavor explode in my mouth.

i hear cato laugh behind me and reach to grab one. "are these really that good?" i nod fervently, grabbing a glass of water.

we eat in silence for a few minutes before i get up, announcing that we might as well try to sleep. cato agrees, but he doesn't move.

"hey, uh." i turn back, my hand on the door handle.

"yeah, cato?" something in his face changes when i say his name, but its gone before i can register what it is.

"don't let the bedbugs bite, shortstack," he says with a smirk. he follows me to the hallway where enobaria told us our rooms would be. our rooms are right across from each other.

i step into the room and shut the door behind me. then, i jump face first onto the big soft bed. it feels like heaven on earth, with its silk sheets and fluffy pillows. i kick my shoes off and rummage around in a drawer, finding a pair of silk pajamas to change into before i burrow under the covers. just as im drifting off to sleep, someone knocks at my door.

i groan and get up to open it.

cato's standing there, shirtless and wearing a pair of grey sweatpants. "hi shortstack."

"cato," i grumble. "its like, 2 am. what do you want?"

he looks around before stepping into my room. "just wanted to talk."

"and it couldn't wait until morning?" he shakes his head and sits down on my bed. i join him and flop onto my back. i almost fall asleep with the silence stretching between us until he clears his throat.

"the rooms are nice, huh?" he says. filler talk. "way better than the dorms at the academy." the dorms we have in the academy are standard issue, with a twin size bed, a window, a desk, a chair, and a wardrobe. nothing like the opulent gilded queen size bed and dresser with an en-suite bathroom the train has.

"yeah," i yawn. "they are pretty great." i close my eyes. i feel cato put an arm around me.

"sorry for waking you up," he offers, letting me curl up into his side. i throw an arm over his chest and make a sound of assent. "y'know, you didn't have to volunteer."

"i wanted to," i defend. "its not like i was going to let you go into the arena alone, cato."

"i would've preferred that," cato snaps. he sits up and rubs a hand over his face. "i don't want you to.."

"to what, cato? to leave my best friend?" i retort, opening my eyes and shooting up. the words pain me to say; i know thats all i am to him. a best friend. "i thought you would've been glad that i volunteered. the games are all we've talked about since we were ten. and what better alliance than best friends?"

"exactly! i don't want you like a best friend," he yells. he stands up and starts pacing. "you're much too special and kind and pretty and strong to be my 'best friend,' n/n. i don't want to see you get hurt. how would i be able to live with myself if you got hurt in the games, huh? how could i call myself a victor and be happy if the one person who actually made me happy wasn't with me?"

we stare at each other for a few moments. his heavy breathing and my short sniffles are the only sounds in the room. slowly, i stand up and take tentative steps towards him.

we stand face to face, chests almost touching but feeling miles apart. my hand brushes against his for the barest moment and he grabs it, locking our fingers together.

"you mean it?" i whisper, looking up at him.

"i mean every word when it comes to you," he breathes.

[gold-rhine]

How do you feel about the two big neuvi juggernauts rn, neuvifuri and wrioneuvi

tbh i'm ambivalent about both of these. im simply a dragon protection unit advocating against mistreatment.... bc for some reason ppl ooc neuvi in two wildly different directions to fit into heteronormativity stereotypes for these two ships. like with rizzley they feminize him drastically, and on the other side with furina they make like stoic uber masculine idk hot math teacher stereotype. both are super annoying tbh. let the poor dragon be, magic evolution already yassified him into french man in reincarnation, has he not suffered enough. stop gendering him so badly, hes not even human, hes a lizard.

with furina im also quite peeved how ppl will try to pretend that they loved each other for all these years (no they didn't), how furina was the one who made him love humanity (no she did not categorically), etc etc. bc i think they have very complicated relationship due to power dynamics of archon\ dragon whose power was stolen by this archon, and trying to erase it make them much less interesting. like furina straight up shut down every their argument in archon quests by going "i'm an archon, you should do as i say bc i'm the god". which she probably didn't know has vastly different implications for the dragon sovereign who sees her as false god, ruling with his power. of course now that she knows, she thinks he hates her, just as she said in her story quest. there is an interesting tension there that i think could be fun to explore bc yeah, they also have 500 years of history. they barely talked, but she knows where he would like to be at this time of day, that kind of familiarity. but i think if you wanna see their relationship explored, esp in romantic sense, you gotta start from right now, from the awkwardness and complications, instead of pretending they are already end game in love.

with rizzwolfsley i remember i saw one post that said that its like fleabag vibes, like they know they can't be together bc of Duty, and i can see it tbh, like rizzley is v feabag to me with his trauma that he pretends hes fine with, but obv a bleeding wound in his back, with sarcastic facade keeping ppl from looking too close, the nonchalant attitude covering painful tension. and as he grew up with this dagger in his back literally in prison, around petty human vices and learned to shield in irony-poisoned attitude, i can see him being drawn to neuvi, steadfast, incorruptible, powerful, but never using it for selfish reasons, fresh clear water in the midst of dark muddy swamp, larger than life, inhuman in his mercy. i can see it, the little wow, it works. the bittersweetness of yearning, awkward stolen moments, it has potential

[shouldaspunastory]

Thank you @broodsys! @dadrunkwriting

This might be wildly out OOC once we get more details or the game drops, but Emmrich Volkarian has bewitched me body and soul, and I love and have already drawn and begun collecting headcanons and lore for my Rook that is going to woo/be wooed and marry the gentleman necromancer. Hope you enjoy.

Emmrich Volkarin x Tobias Rook (SFW, Pre-relationship, pining. 1192 words) ------------------

The thing of it is, Emmrich is far more accustomed to dealing with the dead, isn’t he? Skeletons, in particular. Nevarra may be a warm enough clime, but the necromancer knows the cool, stale air of the Necropolis and his study filled with bones, old tomes, parchment, ink, and the scent of his favorite teas far better than that of the sun and bustling markets miles above. What he knows of the living- aside from that of a few colleagues- is primarily of their connections to and beliefs surrounding death and what rites should follow. Anything outside of that, well, it is largely theoretical. That’s never troubled him before. That it should do so now, so late in life, is… unexpected, to say the least.

And Tobias Rook is… warm, bright, and more alive than anyone Emmrich has even known. A series of utterly baffling and delightful contradictions Emmrich could spend the rest of his life puzzling over and never entirely figure out. Exactly the kind of challenge, the sort of puzzle, he adores. He adores them, a realization that had shaken him to his very core. They make Emmrich feel more alive than he has in years, and, somehow, both younger and older at the same time, makes their heart stop and race. It’s probably a lucky thing he’s already gone gray, or some of their more reckless antics would almost certainly inspire some new ones. They’ve come away from today’s battle on a little more bruised and worse for wear, but the mage is well aware how easily it might have been otherwise.

“Do you ever think about it,” Emmrich asks when he and Rook are finishing an evening cup of tea, the rest of their companions having already turned in for the night. Given his area of expertise, and the odds of what they’re up against it seems prudent to ask. Truthfully, it seems almost shamefully neglectful he’s not done so before now.

“What’s that?”

“Death. What comes after. What rites you would like others to perform for you,” the necromancer prompts, but Rook shakes their head.

“Not as often as you, I suspect,” Rook replies with a soft, amused chuckle, then, sobering a little, mulls the question over in order to give him a more serious response.

Rook does that a lot. They are playful- albeit sometimes a bit irreverent soul. But they never shame or discourage Emmrich when he spirals into an impromptu lecture about his latest studies or curiosities, even when they don’t entirely understand them, they ask him questions and do their best to provide him both with humor, and thoughtful responses in equal measure.

Emmrich is used to being the butt of a fair number of jokes over the years, not that he’s ever paid those much mind, but Rook is inexplicably far more interested in making him laugh than laughter at his expense. Where some of his colleagues and acquaintances over the years deemed him peculiar, even somehow vaguely off-putting for being so committed and interested in his grim work, Rook consistently seeks out his company, praises and seems to admire his passion, even if they don’t share it for the same things.

“I don’t want or need any pomp or circumstance, and I’d hate to think the last thing I ever did was inconvenience my friends. I don’t know for certain what comes after, but I don’t believe I’ll be needing my body for it. Whatever is easiest, does the least damage- to your purses- that’s what I want.”

Emmrich frowns thoughtfully. It’s not that he expects Rook to share his exact views on death, their answer is a pragmatic one, but hearing them speak with so little reverence for their body and its care after death- a body he’s come to… appreciate since first they met- is difficult for him to reconcile.

“I never-“ but Rook cuts themselves short, biting their tongue, and taking a sip of their tea to give them a moment’s pause. “I’ve never cared if anyone knew my name,” they continue finally, refining the thought as they set their cup of tea back on its saucer. “That was never why I joined up with the Shadow Dragons, and it’s not why I’m doing this now.” Emmrich nods as they continue.

“I don’t care if the world knows my name. I’ve never needed that. I just want to matter to someone… one person to remember me- even if that memory fades with the two of us. If it was the right one, that would be enough,” Rook concludes. This is a sentiment Emmrich can understand, and one he shares. He sighs softly, a little wistful. Were he a younger man…

“For what it’s worth, Little Bird, I know I’m not the right one, but I could live a thousand lives and never forget you. I don’t know how anyone could.” Rook draws in a shallow breath, pupils blown wide as they try to meet Emmrich’s eyes which are suddenly rigidly fixed upon the floor in front of them.

“Why not,” Rook asks softly. These words catch the necromancer by surprise if the way his head shoots up at their question is any indication.

‘What?”

“Why not you,” Rook repeats, their voice is soft, almost like speaking too loudly will shatter whatever this strange, beautiful, and fragile moment between them is. Perhaps it will. Emmrich’s throat feels dry, despite the tea, tighter than it had a moment before. Were it not for the way it hammers against his ribs, quite as if it wishes to escape the confines of its bone prison to reach them, Emmrich would swear his heart has stopped.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was you,” Rook admits, suddenly uncharacteristically shy. “I, um, I’d really like that, actually,” they confess softly.

Their cheeks are flush, Emmrich thinks, unable to do anything for a moment but to gape at them. Full of blood, of life, warmth, their eyes full of light, of nerves, yes, but also, hope, a tenderness he’s seen before now, but clearly not for all that it was. They bite their lip and Emmrich realizes he’s been silent, lost in his swirling thoughts, for too long. His gloved hand gently clasps one of their hands, his thumb finding Rook’s pulse and caressing the inside of their wrist. Their heartbeat more akin to a hummingbird than their namesake, but precious all the same. I’ve done that, Emmrich marvels, cool fingers of his bare hand reaching out to rescue their bottom lip, bangles on his arm tingling softly, joining the symphony of his quickly beating heart and shallow breaths.

“Are you sure,” Emmrich asks, words scarcely louder than a whisper, but needing to offer them one last out.

“Please,” Rook nods, and Emmrich doesn’t keep them waiting, fingers moving to card through their hair before coming to cradle the back of their head as his lips meet theirs in a kiss of infinite care and patience, as though the pair have all the time in the world, and he, can think of nothing better to do with that time than this. And just now, he can’t.

[superliz6]

Lin! 3, 5, 21, 22, 23 | Tenzin 5, 21, 22, 23 | Pema 2, 3, 13, 23

Lin: 3. Least favorite canon thing about this character? Oh this is easy, I think. I really hate the fact that she joked about tearing up Air Temple Island after Tenzin broke up with her. I just felt like it was so OOC just for a cheap joke which was actually at her expense. I like the idea that she did tear it up, but I think actually she would not share that story willingly or make a joke about her personal life at work.

5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them? Shake It Out by Florence + The Machine. I think it perfectly encapsulates her entire story arc in the series. 21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

I love to observe Lin in ways we don't typically get to see in the series (ie her personal life- where does she live? what does she do for fun? Who are her friends? does she have friends? is she seeing anyone?) I don't normally like to write action scenes, which I think realistically would occur more often than I personally incorporate. Its something I would like to improve upon, but generally I avoid it. 22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like? I love anytime Lin is shown appreciation by another character. Hands down. I don't like when it's over the top OR when Lin herself is wildly forthcoming about her feelings. Characters (and Lin) need to work for that! 23. Favorite picture of this character?

I can't pick one, but it's probably between these two. Tenzin: 5. What's the first song that comes to mind when you think about them? Pressure by Billy Joel 21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like? If there is one character in this universe who is less open about their feelings than Lin Beifong, it's Tenzin. So I like writing fics where he is forced to confront his own emotions. As for what I don't like writing, I get bored writing his relationship to his kids lol. Sorry! It's just that I think it's pretty straightforward.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to ths character? Something you don't like?

Absolutely love it in fics when Tenzin is stuck in a situation with his siblings or anyone from his upbringing (Lin especially). I don't like reading fics where he is like madly in love with Pema for obvious reasons, but also bc I think he loves her but he isn't like *in love* with her. 23. Favorite picture of this character?

Dude is in a constant state of acquiescing. Pema: 2. Favorite canon thing about this character? Honestly, her general function in the narrative lol. But also- her audacity should be studied. Oh! And I love that she's still clearly insecure about Lin hahaha. 3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

Same as above quite frankly. 13. What's an emoji, an emoticon and/or any symbol that reminds you of this character or you think the character would use a lot?

Snake emoji lol 23. Favorite picture of this character?

I hope she's exhausted.

[thrandilf]

I'm willing to read most shadowpeach fics even if they are pretty ooc (I have a limit of ooc, but it's pretty wide) but fics I can't read are ones where macaque is just now in modern times meeting wukong. Like I'm sorry, but macaque would be a completely different person if he never met wukong. So wildly different that a macaque acting like macaque breaks my suspension of belief, and a macaque acting like he should in that scenario isn't my macaque anymore by any metric (might as well be an OC)

I sat here for a bit wondering how to say that I haven't actually found any Shadowpeach fics I like that I haven't written myself without sounding horridly self absorbed/picky but it's where I'm at

To be clear, I've only been in fandom for a few months and I haven't looked all that hard, I'm sure out of the 8k or so on ao3 there are absolute gems, just haven't found em. I'm open to recs! but I'm in fandom for characterization and specific dynamics which drew me to the characters in the first place, so you've got the biggest lead on me for not being picky/coming off as judgy, anon hahaha

In that circumstance you laid out I'd also wonder who Wukong would even be. He's influenced by his past relationships just as much, even if he isn't as overt about it as Macaque/he's had a wider range of influence since Macaque is more Wukong centered than vice versa, it would still be Different.

Fic of them in early or pre brotherhood would be really interesting! Or in this AU- a Macaque full out reincarnation would be fascinating if LBD hadn't brought him back. Like, that could be interesting, but their history is such a core part, even as obscured as some of it is to us right now, that I'd have a hard time trying to untangle it and make it feel like them. It would still have to be History on Wukong's end for me or too many pieces are gone from the jenga tower yfm

I'm also someone who writes canon compliant or adjacent stuff Most of the time, where I like to extrapolate and kind of take the edges of the picture and expand, like a degree removed from canon/plausible, but not putting people in totally different worlds or altering major canon events. Hell, I don't even make OCs for fics unless my arm is twisted by necessity (my novel length tdp fic has some OCs because I needed more characters for the mains to meet in the world/filling in vacuums left by foreign leaders being killed, said OCs are still as minor as I can make them while being hopefully interesting and serving their purpose)

However, I know that a majority of fandom really loves totally new AUs in other worlds/making OCs (LMK fandom is especially OC heavy which was a surprise to me) and that's its own writing exercise/source of fun, it's just one I've never had a desire to read or write. Canon for me is fun to explore more of canon potential, not to fuel something seemingly unrelated

As I said, I'm picky. I typically don't even read modern AUs for fantasy characters, it just so happens that LMK works so well that I love the futuristic world and get my magic meets technology kicks in canon, otherwise I wouldn't have anything written in remotely modern day within the past few years. LMK got me back into it

So I hear you about characterization/I probably sound like I live a stifled existence but I just thrive by being as close to canon as I can while playing with it, my most fun is different from others on the fan spectrum

And all this isn't to say that I feel like an expert in characterizing Macaque and Wukong- they're tough cases to crack. They're challenging. They both have their facades and levels of jadedness and sincerity. LMK requires flat out studying to really nail anyone I've found, even characters I feel more confident in writing- and that challenge is part of the draw for me too!

[avesomnia-inhoramortis]

[ooc]

I am very unfamiliar with Tumblr RP and how it works, so I'm not sure what I need to clarify on. Having said that, I've seen some accounts with some kind of intro and boundaries/rules. So! Here's mine. Subject to change and expansion while I figure out what I should put in here.

OP

20+, they/them, you can call me 🐍 or some iteration of the blog's name. Do not forget that character and player are different people, but I'm always open to making friends!

GUIDELINES

I will write incest ships, or I can avoid doing that if you want.

If you have specific boundaries or lines I should keep in mind, OR something you want to add in but you want to know if it's okay, my DMs are open

I write fairly long answers, though they vary in length. Do not feel like you have to match me, just write whatever amount feels right.

I will not write noncon/rape/etc.

I will not write sex scenes out on the blog for everyone and the cosmos to see. If that's something you want to do, feel free to ask me in DMs and I'll consider it. If I accept I'll probably ask to do it in a shared Google doc or something similar.

That said, making out is fair game. This includes weird body horror stuff like roots and internal organs.

If it happens in Elden Ring it's safe to assume I will write it. It depends on the character- Trina (usually) is not going to start torturing people. I am also, as addressed in a previous point, not going to write my character torturing your character nonconsensually.

That said, if both characters and players are consenting I am a gothic horror writer and I enjoy writing terrible, terrible situations, so if there's some nightmarish scene you want to concoct I am on board.

I can write the range from fluff and found family to grimdark angst, the only area I'm really putting limits on is smut, as stated.

St. Trina is an (eldritch) child but I am open to shipping her in pretty much any scenario. If that makes you uncomfortable I can age her up, but it will affect how I play her so fair warning.

I'm not going to fight with anyone about how I play her or her backstory. My headcanons are my headcanons and I'm here to have fun.

I have a job with a wildly erratic schedule. While I am absolutely refreshing Tumblr every chance I get, there are going to be long gaps in responses.

I prefer to do longform RP separate from asks- if you send an RP response to an ask I'll definitely read it, but if you want to do a whole thread on the topic I'd rather start it on its own post. My ask-response format and my actual RP format are very different.

This list is subject to change.

CHARACTERS

Saint Trina {headcanons linked in pinned, I also have a tag}

Knight of Saint Trina {closed, pending until I play more DLC}

Miquella {technically closed, available if he becomes relevant in a Trina rp}

{open to playing additional characters relevant to Trina's part as needed, but hopefully rarely}

[dumb-hat]

Evander Winsome's Oddments and Congeries

This tumblr is dedicated to the FFXIV character Evander Winsome, located on Balmung. There's also the occasional general FFXIV or general RP-related post, that sort of thing.

Stuck between idleness and impulsivity, restlessness and recklessness, Evander can't decide if he needs to catch his breath or get to work on something. Anything, really.

Information and (hopefully) fun stuff:

Evander's Carrd

Evander's LFRP post

Character Sheet

WriteFFXIV2020 Masterpost (My favorites might be Matter of Fact and its a companion piece, Splinter, but I kind of like Clamor, too.)

WriteFFXIV2021 Masterpost (This was mostly a bust for me this year, with only two posts: Speculate and Friable, but here they are if you don't want to mess with the masterpost.)

WriteFFXIV2022 Masterpost (I did pretty good with this one! I used all of the free prompts to write about this blog's titular hat. You can see those in posts 4, 11, 18 and 25. There's ADHD content in 1 and 15. And maybe some others I've forgotten about. Because, y'know. ADHD.)

An odd thing I noticed that I need to follow up on - The Problem in Pearl Lane

Alts, other blogs, etc. etc.:

OOC Junk - justlikethefish (Pretty empty right now, but this'll be where I put stuff that's more me than him. That might end up being a lot, or it might end up being next to nothing... but it'll probably end up being shitposts and ADHD reblogs because that's just who I am.) As for me, I'm just, like, some boring guy. I play FFXIV sometimes, and other times I play other games. I do a lot of TTRPG stuff and think about even more of it. The scheduling info in my LFRP and Carrd are both wildly out of date. I'm pretty open most of the time, so if you wanna reach out, feel free whenever!

[sword-dad-fukuzawa]

26, 27, 28 for the writer asks. i love the way you do characters, so tell me more (chinhands)

CARYS!! HI HELLO, THANK YOU!!

Weird Writer Asks

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

I listen to them talk. I watch their dialogue, listen to their voicelines, I sit them down at a table for tea and ask them quiet questions until they're thirty minutes deep into a monologue about what they care about the most. I ask about their favorite food, how they feel about the rain, and what kind of relationship they have with their mother.

I feel like my whole process is very analytical in that I just consume as much data about them as possible. This is, of course, so I can steal their voice. And once I know how to speak with their voice, I can approximate what they'd probably say in a given situation, how they act, and I consider this having gotten into their head. I can put down their voice any time and take up another. But the fact of the matter is this means they've gotten into my head, and sometimes they refuse to leave.

Do I regret it? Usually not. The only time getting into a character's head affects me poorly is when someone asks me to write a self insert, which I had to do once for class. There wasn't a large enough degree of separation between my head and the self insert's head. That was bad.

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Probably Dazai Bungou Stray Dogs. His brain is a really bad place to be, which would be difficult enough to write realistically on its own, but he also has so many different shifting personas and facades that he swaps between very quickly.

Back when I wrote a lot of BSD, you'd almost never find anything from his POV in my wips, simply because he's thinking about so many things at once and so far ahead that it's difficult to get anything coherent out of him. He's also so goddamn erratic that balancing his cheerful trolling with his serious side with the self hatred with the fact that writing about someone actively in mental illness recovery is a whole other layer of difficulty was...stressful.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Hm. Ever written? Maybe Kaeya Genshin Impact. He's such a useful vehicle for projection of the personal variety and also the Themes and Narratives. And don't forget the Horrors. Yeah, I probably wrote him as wildly OOC sometimes, but the sheer amount of conflict he can generate makes for delightful narrative quibbles to play with. Helps that his voice came easy.

Or Kokomi. Mostly because she was basically my OC by the time I got my claws into her; I really wanted an evil fish lady warhawk.

[chubbyheroesworthyheroes]

If requests are still open, May i request a Drabble to where Forsyth is having too much at it with the food in Alms convoy. (Especially during battle) That he soon ends up to a point where he can no longer support his terms of moving and having python sticking around to just rather tease and help him out. Thanks! ^^

War and everything that came with it was difficult enough, but with the Rigelians having collected so much of the Zofian people’s hard earned food for themselves, and the decline of the Kingdom’s lands on account of losing Mila’s protection, it was made even worse by the Deliverance’s lack of rations. It was rare that they didn’t have to limit what people took from the convoy, and more often than not, someone was set up to guard what little they had -- just in case.

Forsyth had served plenty of hours as a guard for the convoy; not just to safeguard their food, but their weapons and armor as well. If they didn’t protect their supplies, and one of their clashes with the Empire destroyed or otherwise lost them, the Deliverance would be dealt a final death blow. It was a job that he took seriously, even if he would have preferred to be on the field of battle with Sir Clive and Alm. There wasn’t much notoriety to be won from staying towards the rear to guard the supplies, but there was still a knightly honor to protecting the continued survival of his comrades in this way.

Python, of course, didn’t share the same views. Whenever it was his turn to play guard, Forsyth often caught him napping or simply not staying vigilant. And, when confronted about his lack of enthusiasm for the work, would blithely state that they had never had their supplies targeted -- and why would they, when they had so little?

It was aggravating, but it wasn’t really anything new. Forsyth was happy to jump to Clive’s or Alm’s orders, and Python was...less so. It hardly mattered, if it came down to him covering for his old friend’s shifts on guard, he would do so for the good of the Deliverance!

It was easy enough at first. Forsyth was determined to show his strengths -- be it in battle, or elsewhere. He patrolled and frequently double checked their supplies, he even maintained the weaponry and armor that they had in reserves when he had the time. It kept him busy and on task for quite a while, but, eventually, the boredom started to get to him. And, what made the boredom worse, was the gnawing hunger that came with being stuck with an unreliable food source and being forced to remain by that food but unable to have any of it. It took a great deal of his willpower to keep himself on task.

However, one day, Forsyth caved -- much to his great shame.

It hadn’t been much, truthfully. Just a bit of dry bread to fill his achingly empty stomach. It had felt good in the moment -- it had been tough to swallow down on its own, just a step above stale, but a drizzling of honey had made it easier to wolf down. Despite it only being a mouthful or two, it felt like the bread took up so much space in his belly -- of course, some of this was due to a lack of regular eating, but also the building guilt of taking something that had not been rationed out to him. It didn’t take long, Forsyth stewing in his guilt for several hours as he stood guard, for him to think of a way to replace what he had taken. A hunter he was not, but he’d read in a book somewhere about trapping techniques, and vowed to teach himself this skill in order to pay back what he had unrightfully taken.

It took him over a week, but he managed to catch himself a rabbit to add to the stock of food they had. It had been scrawny, but it was something all the same. He hadn’t really thought of keeping up the habit of trapping; it was hard to set up and check them when they were on the move, and with the odd changes in the land, there weren’t as many animals around to easily hunt. But, it seemed that someone else had taken notice of what he had done, as when he went to tally up everything one evening, there were some additions. A couple of fruit, a few small birds. It was small things, things found as they marched on from place to place. Still, it was odd, but Forsyth kept it to himself in case him bringing it up to anyone else might scare the mysterious procurer off.

It was more important that they have more supplies than it was to go off trumpeting about this anyway.

And if he swiped one of the fruits, popping it into his mouth easily, it was also not spoken of.

Things went on as such. Every week or so, Forsyth would find more and more getting added to their stores of food -- most notably when he was scheduled to be on guard duty. Whoever was behind this had an obvious motive of getting his attention. Upon first realizing this, he stubbornly avoided any of the food. But, it was hard to avoid the temptation forever when it was right there, begging to be taken and practically gift wrapped just for him. He fought off the urge to sneak food for as long as he could, but once again, the bite of hunger had him nicking some of the smaller morsels that he could quickly and cleanly gobble down without much fear of their disappearance being noticed.

This was, of course, a slippery slope. One or two small things turned into half of something a bit bigger, and then all of that slightly bigger thing, which evolved into him simply taking whatever additional and non-reported food items suddenly appeared when he checked.

It was a guilty pleasure in every sense of the phrase. Guilt for taking more than his fair share, but pleasure from how the food tasted and filled up his growling stomach. And it didn’t take long for that temporary full stomach to start developing into something more…

While Forsyth had never been incredibly muscular, he also hadn’t been scrawny either. However, this very middle of the road physique made it very obvious that all the extra food he was getting into wasn’t being worked off.

His face had filled out a little bit, the hint of a double chin coming in. His shoulders had rounded with soft pudge that lead into pillowy arms, the soft flesh of his upper arms squishing out of his short-sleeved tunic like overstuffed sausages from their stressed casings. His chest had softened and plumped up significantly, giving Forsyth embarrassingly hand-overfilling moobs that would peak out the edges of his breastplate -- at least, back when he could still get his fitted armor on. While he wasn’t as heavily armored as some, his climbing weight made it near impossible to wear most of it regardless. 

Even without his growing chest taking up space, Forsyth’s belly had gone from lean to something quite tremendous. The more food he snuck away into his stomach, the more fat accumulated on his middle and the hungrier he got; an endless cycle of stuffing himself with the growing amount of extra food in their supplies. This only caused his stomach to balloon further out as the days wore on. Where it had first started off as just a slight pooch to his middle, it quickly grew large enough to make it impossible to wear his breastplate and severely stressed his clothes, and it only kept growing from there. His gut was marred with angry red marks from his burgeoning growth, his belly button deep enough to sink your fingers in to the knuckle; its sheer mass swayed in a chaotic rhythm whenever he lumbered about, meaty slaps sounding from his underbelly as it smacked against his thighs.

The one thing he could be somewhat thankful for was that his lower half hadn’t been hit too hard by his gorging. While his ass had certainly bumped up in size, it wasn’t anywhere near as noticeable as his middle or even his tits. His thighs were chunky and they brushed up against each other whenever he moved, but their malleable bulk didn’t get too much in the way.

Really, the big problem was simply how heavy he was, and how utterly out of shape he’d managed to become. It was a complete shame, and Forsyth couldn’t even be bothered to hide his embarrassment as he’d practically eaten himself clear out of his dream to become a knight on the same level as Sir Clive. He still did what he could to aid the Deliverance on the battlefield, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He’d huff and puff at the back of their forces, rarely if ever managing to take out any of the enemy, but still plodding along as best he could for what little was left of his honor and pride.

Honestly, the worst of trying to fight at his size came when he simply hit his limit of endurance, his weight dragging him down to the dusty earth with a gasp and a wheeze. Coming to his aid had been none other than Python, his aim true as ever as he shot the Empire soldier who had been looking to capitalize on Forsyth’s collapse.

“Hey there, big fella, need some cover?” Python drawled as he idly checked to make sure the soldier was down for good, tacking on a slightly snide, “A whole lotta cover, nowadays, huh?”

Forsyth would have argued with him, but he was out of breath and awfully hungry; they’d been marching for some time before this skirmish even broke out, and he’d not had time to fill up on his usual breakfast staples. “Spare me your attitude, Python,” he huffed out, leaning back in order to suck in larger breaths and not feel like his gut was crushing his lungs as he did so.

Python merely gave him a smarmy sort of look, posture lazy as he surveyed the battle pushing on without them.

“Y’know, they probably wouldn’t even notice if the two of us went back to camp. I’ve done...most of my share of the work out here, and you sure seem like you need to sit your fluffy self down and have a rest,” the bowman continued, already sauntering around his porcine friend’s side to shove at his -- soft, plush, squishy -- back like he was some sort of farm animal in need of a little motivation to get up and moving.

Forsyth was beside himself with how that fact wasn’t too far off now.

“We cannot just leave our comrades on their own--” he began to chide irately, grunting and making all sorts of ungodly sounds as he struggled his way back to his aching feet with Python’s less than helpful help. Forsyth was sure the man had prompted all this just in order to watch him flounder about like a ridiculously fat fish out of water.

“Ah, don’t worry about them. They’re totally fine without us,” Python hummed, rummaging around for a quick moment in order to produce something he’d been saving for just the right moment -- which this seemed to be. A sweet, sugar dusted berry tart that he’d haggled for in the last town over. He carefully waved the treat in Forsyth’s face, watching amusement as the green clad man almost started to drool at the mere sight of the little sweetie.

Check and mate. He could spend the rest of the time watching Forsyth stuff his chubby face and not do a lick of work back at base camp while the others cleaned up on the battlefield.

A real win-win in Python’s opinion.

[bananonbinary]

i feel like we as a community need to have a long talk about what “crack” actually means cause i just saw a coffee shop au tagged as crack and have given up on words meaning things

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 4/8

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 4/8 WORD COUNT: 3,900+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions and use of drugs | smut/mature sexual content SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

Nanami let out a deep breath, feeling the stiffness on his back. Pulling the almost dried up towel that was draped over his eyes. He doesn’t remember putting it there although he recalled resting on the couch on the study to rest for a bit some time at dawn, thinking he would wake up in time to move to the bedroom. As it turned out, he wasn’t able to manage that anymore and slept on that same spot until morning.

Sitting up, he saw that his files had been tidied up and there was a note on top which said, “You work too much,” in a familiar handwriting. He smiled to himself, realizing who it was from. There was no mistaking that ugly handwriting – one of your supposed flaws yet he found it very endearing that you were highly dexterous in giving life to still scenes but never really gotten around making your writing legible.

How you stumbled upon him in the dead of night when you were supposedly out camping in the woods with your pals was something beyond him, but he was thankful, holding onto the towel that you had left for him a little while longer before he started with his morning routine. He had every plan to stay indoors for the rest of the morning, probably catch up on some sleep, but while he was dressing up, he happened to catch a glimpse of you by the lakeshore, partly concealed by the trees.

Sleep could wait, he thought, hurriedly throwing on a round-neck, navy blue shirt to match his dark sweats and setting out despite his blond locks still damp from the shower. He jogged his way down the hill, looking for the exact spot where he saw you from the manor, finding you by the clearing near the massive oak tree with low-hanging branches that extended over the crystal water of the lake.

There you were, standing in front of a canvass ensconced on an easel. You appeared like a nymph under newly-risen sun with your long, white tresses braided to the side and hanging over your right shoulder. Breathtaking. There wasn’t another word that would describe how you looked like even with your back to him, dressed in a white, halter, crop top and a long, hippie skirt of the same color that had a slit going up your thigh, exposing the length of your legs.

Nanami had to consciously slow his steps towards you and tell himself to be still when he was near enough, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his pants to stop himself from recklessly reaching out and touching you for fear that the mirage before him will disappear. Except that you were real, existing in the same domain he was in, so near yet also so far.

You acknowledged his presence with a succinct nod, but your focus was on your work. For a while, he just stood behind you, watching the canvass fill with color, reflecting the orange and pink marmalade splashes of light in the morning sky. It was like watching a slow replay of what the heavens had been as the colors dissipated faster in reality while you immortalized it in oil paint, each detail prominent and not a single brush stroke amiss.

You were beautiful and you created beautiful things. And he wanted you. He wanted you so badly, but he didn’t have the heart to wrench you away from what you were doing.

"Why are you up so early?" you asked without turning around to look at him, your hand stopping mid-stroke with your paintbrush suspended from the canvass by a few millimeters. "You should be getting some shut eye after working so late."

God, he loved your voice, the sound cutting through the stillness like windchimes. Nanami distanced himself, satisfying himself with your divided attention and sat on the grass just under the ancient tree, leaning his back on the rough trunk. You were right about that. He was sleep-deprived, but he couldn't seem to rest easy without seeing you first thing in the morning. He closed his eyes, evening his breath out. "Since when were you so strict about sleep schedules?" he teased, knowing how you had such irregular schedules where proper rest was concerned.

"Since I found you still dressed up with your shoes on, sleeping on the goddamn couch at three in the morning," you sallied. “How you have energy to be walking around the grounds at this hour is just plain bizarre.”

He scoffed. “I could say the same for you, sweetheart. I don’t understand how you are up and about, painting no less, when you’ve been prowling around the study at dawn.”

At that, you laughed, leaning close to the canvass as you painted in more details into your picture. “I wasn’t prowling around as you’ve put it. It got all smoky around our campsite when the fire went out so we decided to sleep in the house instead.” You glanced over your shoulder at him. “I just happened to see that the study lights were still on and found you.”

Nanami met your gaze although it was short-lived since you turned back to your work. “Thank you.”

“I should have woken you up. Your back must hurt from sleeping like that.” You placed your brush on the cup hanging on the easel in time to see him eyeing you quizzically about your statement. “You tend to lean in favor of your left shoulder when your back is bothering you.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your response. “I have to give it to you and Satoru. Your observation skills are beyond normal.”

“It’s annoying at best when you’re programmed to see every little thing,” you stated, walking over to the edge of the water to dip a washcloth which you then used to wipe paint off of your hands. “But it also plays to our advantage, I guess. For instance, it’s easy to read through you when I notice everything like that.”

“You mean it’s easier to play your games with me when you observe me like you do?”

“Hey now, I’m being genuinely concerned here for once.” You snickered, tossing the washcloth on the pile underneath your easel before walking up to him and bending down slightly to his seated form. “Go back to the manor and get some sleep.”

Nanami clucked his tongue, inhaling the air slowly, savoring your smell as it entered his lungs, intoxicating him. “I find it hard to go back to bed the moment I’ve decided to leave it. I won’t be able to sleep much anyway.”

You pouted at that. “Then just take a nap if you can’t sleep much.”

He grinned at you then. “I’ll take a nap now if you’ll do it with me.”

“I’m not sleepy, but I’ll stay –”

“Then no.”

You shot him a disparaging look. “Are you being serious right now?”

Nanami had to suppress the laughter bubbling in his throat at the look of disbelief on your face, and before you could recover, he hooked a muscular arm over your waist, pulling you down so that you were seated between his outstretched legs with your back against his chest. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Seeing as you didn’t have any choice about that matter, you adjusted your position, fiddling with your skirt so it was shielding your bare skin from the grass. Nanami reveled at the fact that you did not seem bothered that he had his arm around your torso, the warmth of your skin directly touching his. You even went as far as leaning against him, your form slotting onto his perfectly like a puzzle piece.

He closed his eyes, pulling you closer as he leaned against the tree, letting his senses be filled with everything that was you from the feel of your warmth crashing against him to the smell of your hair and your even breaths, seemingly in sync with his. He knew he could live a life with no regrets if he gets to hold you like that every single day.

Giving in to his exhaustion, he breathed out, letting the gentle wind and the soft sounds of nature lull him to sleep. He didn’t know for how long he stayed that way with you, but it was already bright when he opened his eyes, coming to consciousness when he felt smaller fingers threading between his, followed by the faint sound of a giggle. Another hand reached over, landing on the side of his face. Unconsciously, he leaned against your palm, luxuriating in its supple smoothness against his cheek.

“Awake already?” you asked.

He looked down over your bare shoulder, feeling himself stir alive from the inside at the sight of your intertwined hands sitting on your lap. It was like a spark lit a fire in him, radiating from his chest and spreading wildly and searing every fiber of his being. Placing a hand over your hand which was touching his face, he started planting butterfly kisses onto your palm, your wrist.

A gasp left your lips when he lowered his head against your shoulder, nuzzling your bare skin in slow progression until he got to the junction of your neck where he latched his mouth, his gentle ministrations turning possessive and urgent as he peppered your shoulder and neck with kisses. He smiled against your skin when you felt your breath hitch while your grip on his hand tightened.

His other hand made its way up your chin, making you turn your head so he could look into your eyes, letting their blue depths consume him, finding his cue when they flicked to his waiting mouth. You weren’t fighting him, and in your own accord, you leaned in and met his lips with yours, kissing him with ardor, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer to you. Your chest heaved, your breasts rising with the action, only restricted by your tight top, tempting his hands.

“I want to touch you,” he murmured into the kiss. “God, I want you.” He let go of your lips, opting to place open-mouthed kisses all over your neck, lingering on the hollow of throat. “Tell me you want it as much as I do,” he rasped, biting onto your collarbone.

“Yes,” you keened, releasing your grip on his hand. “Touch me.”

That was all the encouragement he needed, swooping down once more to claim your lips with his while his large hands leisurely caressed their way up your waist, tracing the contours of your sides, your flesh pliant under the pressure of his touches as the clouds were submissive to the wind. They made their way up to the full swells of your breasts, coveting the succulent flesh from over the fabric of your top, gently squeezing.

Nanami let out an unsteady breath when you moaned softly in his ear, still unable to believe that you were there with him, openly accepting him and melting under his touch. He couldn’t remember the way he saw you before, the fact that you were his best friend’s younger sister, that at one point, he also viewed you the same way, as your lips melded and your tongues mingled. At that moment, you were your own person, the one kissing him back and awakening the heat in his flesh, the one he has his mouth and hands on in outright intimacy…the woman he is utterly and immutably in love with.

He continued to shower attention to your lips while his other hand, slid down to your thighs, finding the slit of your skirt, blindly pushing the garment aside. His rough palm brushed against the inner flesh of your thigh, tenderly stroking. He took possession of your knee, gently lifting your leg so that is was hanging over his, making you spread open.

You pulled away from him, startled when you felt his hand sliding up your thigh. “Nanamin…” you panted, eyes wide as you regarded him, trying to grope for words but none came out.

He hooked a finger onto your lace underwear, leaning close to you as he whispered, “Kento. Call me Kento,” his breath hot and wet on the shell of your ear.

“K-kento,” you repeated. “What –” Your intended question was cut short by a sharp moan when he snaked his hand into your panties, and inserted his finger into you, the action made easy by the slick that had pooled at the apex of your thighs, causing you to arch your back, fingers tangling with the fabric of his sweats.

“You were saying?” he asked with a chuckle before placing kisses on your shoulders again, your hips bucking upwards when he started rubbing your sensitive nub with his thumb while he added yet another one of his fingers to thrust inside you, their length finding your sweet spot repeatedly until all you could think of was him pleasuring you, his ministrations making you see stars.

“Oh god…Ken…” you let out breathily, your hand finding purchase on the grass beside his thigh. “Right there.”

He hummed in response and curled his fingers inside you when he felt your walls clench around them. He started moving at a faster pace. “That’s it, my love. Cum for me.” His tongue lapped on your neck, making you shudder as you reached your high, making beautiful sounds for him as your juices dripped out into his hand. He pulled his fingers from between your legs, glistening with your essence which he licked off with his tongue, eventually placing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

“You taste so fucking good,” he said, bending down so he could kiss you again.

You were a shivering, panting mess when Nanami finally let go, your chest heaving up and down as you slowed your breath, leaning against him. A thin sheen of perspiration covered your exposed skin, glimmering under the rays of light that shone through the canopy of leaves above you. Nanami marveled at the hazy look about your eyes as you looked back at him in wonder as if he was the only one you could perceive at the moment, your flushed cheeks and your pink lips, raw and slightly parted as you respired.

Unable to help himself, he held you tight against him, resting his chin on your shoulder, just watching you come down from your high, the high he brought you to. If this was what he would see every single time he made love to you, he didn’t think he would ever come to terms of ever letting you go or getting enough of you.

When you finally composed yourself, you started chuckling, closing your eyes and placing a hand over them.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, fingers tracing patterns on the back of your hand.

“Us?”

“Hmm? Why is that?”

You finally opened your eyes and looked at him. “I mean this. You, me. I mean, am I imagining –”

Nanami rolled his eyes and cut you short, kissing you briefly. “Did that feel imagined to you?”

“No,” you answered promptly, stopping him when he leaned close again, causing him to laugh, the action reverberating on his solid chest. You sat up, putting distance between them, cradling your head between your hands. “Seriously, quit frying my brain so early in the morning.”

He squeezed you on the hips, making you yelp and motion to stand up, but he didn’t let you. “So,” he grinned cheekily at you, “I fry your brain now?”

“You know you do.” It was your turn to catch him off guard by kissing him on the cheek before you finally stood up. He was such a sucker for the small things you do to him. You cocked your head to the direction of the lake, hands proffered for him to take. “Take a dip with me?”

Nanami took your hand, standing up as well. How can he resist? “Okay.”

**

My, my. Geto Suguru glanced at Gojo. The groom-to-be was seated opposite him at the balcony that overlooked the gardens and most of the estate grounds, his back to the view. He was completely oblivious to what was going on around him, that much the former has figured. The estate was always refreshing and breathtaking, probably more of a home than any of the houses he owned, but it wasn’t as interesting as what he was witnessing unfold down the hill.

He just arrived, his head hurting from jetlag. Honestly, he was looking forward to resting after meeting Gojo and the family. He was particularly looking forward to meeting you as someone whom he shared a close relationship with, but lunch had come and gone and you haven’t showed up yet. He was told that Nanami was most likely sleeping in after working late, fucking workaholic, he thought, but now, it was evident that his host didn’t know shit about what he was saying where the other male was concerned.

From the walkway going up the hill, he saw you with none other than Nanami Kento. You two of you were walking on the grass, your respective shoes on your hands. You were carrying a covered canvass, a leather bag slung across your shoulder which Geto figured were your art implements while your companion was carrying your easel. By the looks of it, the pair of you came from the lake, took a swim judging from your damp hair and clothes. Definitely a spur-of-the-moment decision considering the glaring lack of the usual bath stuff that the family and guests alike brought to the lake on the occasion that they went for a dip.

It was puzzling to see Nanami being carefree enough to actually be engaging in a spontaneous activity. And was the bastard laughing? Geto scoffed, chuckling at the sight before him. Gojo was still clueless, but Shoko, who had a clear view of you, was nodding her head as she exchanged looks with Geto. “It’s happening,” she murmured.

“Yes, it is.” He grinned. “This will be fun.”

“What is?” Gojo asked, narrowing his eyes at his best friend.

Geto removed his sunglasses, arching a brow at Gojo. “Are you sure I’m the one who had been overseas all this time?”

Utahime snickered, already aware of what they were talking about, much to Gojo’s chagrin. “What are you talking about?”

Before anyone could answer, the sound of your laughter echoed from the main hall, evidently in the middle of a playful banter with Nanami who was evidently running out patience as he countered your every statement with clipped responses. At odds to that, however, was the fact that, when you were within view of the others through the glass doors, you were holding onto his hand above you as you twirled, your smile wide while Nanami looked on in open amusement.

He was the first one to notice the four pairs of eyes who were on the two of you, holding onto your shoulder to stop you from continuing on your way deeper into the mansion.

“What?” you asked him, turning and taking a step back so you were standing less than a foot away from him. Too close to anyone who was seeing you interact, the psychological space between you obviously gone.

“Hi, princess,” Geto called out, noticing how everyone was eyeing you both, their jaws slack, even Shoko who has always been in the know where you and their friend were involved.

You turned your head towards him, the surprise on your face turning into full-blown delight at the sight of him. “Suguru!”

Ah, he thought. Just the greeting he was looking forward to hearing. Mirroring your expressions, he opened his arms wide, waiting for you to come to him, and as expected, you bolted from where you were standing beside Nanami, throwing all your limbs around Geto, hugging him tightly.

“Hello, beautiful. It’s been a while,” he said, returning the gesture with as much fervor, one of his hands coming up your thigh to support your weight. He prided himself with the fact that he was the closest to you apart from Yuuji, and that he was the only one among your brother’s friends who could elicit such a profound, unfiltered reaction from you.

It was further proven by the fact that Gojo had a sulky look while Nanami was pretty much breaking at the seams as he pointedly stared at Geto’s hands on you.

“I missed you!” Your fondness for the man was unmistakable and he reveled in it. “You could always bet I missed you more, baby girl. You’ve gotten prettier since the last time I saw you.” He put you down on the ground and immediately took possession of your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“You think so?” You were positively glowing at the compliment.

Geto smirked. He was also the only one whose compliments you were not immune to. “Satoru better be guarding you well enough to keep your admirers at bay.” He tucked your hair behind your ear before straightening up and looking at Nanami who was standing behind you. He may be a few a steps away from you but the possessive stance he had as he looked at Geto radiated from him.

“Oi, Kento. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” He greeted, clapping said male on the shoulder.

The blond just nodded. “I was free for the whole week.”

Gojo butted in, his eyes momentarily lingering on you, but he regarded Geto in disdain. “You’ve got guts showing up here three days later than Kento and acting all lovey-dovey with my baby sister!”

“You know why. I’m here now, darling, so shut it.” He always used the sarcastic endearment for Gojo whenever he was sulking like a brat.

He lunged at Geto, placing him in a headlock, giving him no choice but to let go of you although he wanted to annoy Nanami further. He still had tricks up his sleeve to rile the blond though. "Let's catch up later, baby girl. Your baby brother wants attention."

"You're stealing my sister from me. She doesn't even say she misses me."

"I can hear you, Satoru," you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes.

"See! You've corrupted her against me."

Geto chuckled, turning tables on him. "You're the only one who's ruining your image to your own sister."

“Cut it out, you two,” you stated then turned towards Nanami, and to everyone’s stupefaction, you said, “I’m going to shower. You coming?”

“What do you need Kento in the shower for?!” Gojo, overacting as always, demanded from you.

Shoko laughed, unable to suppress it while Geto whistled.

You flashed Gojo a scathing look then. “For someone who’s supposed to be my brother, you’re kind of a moron. You know what I mean.”

“You’re gonna shower together,” Geto chimed in, adding fuel to the fire.

“I need someone to scrub my back for me, right?”

Gojo looked horrified. “Are you crazy?”

You shrugged, dragging Nanami with you. “Yeah, maybe. Wanna join?”

“Don’t even think about it, Kento!” Gojo warned.

Nanami didn’t say anything, following behind you.

Geto could just smile slyly as he watched the pair disappear into the house again. He has just arrived but things were already taking an interesting turn. It will be a fun week indeed.

-end of part 4-

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S “JUJUTSU KAISEN.” [20210724]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

In regards to the high school Au, Gil meeting a shy yet pretty girl that he likes. What would he do to win her heart?

Hello, anon! I'm glad you enjoyed the high school AU. This will be an interesting continuation...TIME TO GO IN GUNS BLAZING!!

btw i made the reader insert character gender neutral so then it feels more like a dating sims game. :3

note: this is going to be a bit ooc (crackfic maybe)

Student Gilgamesh Developing a Crush (High School Au)

- Bored, Gilgamesh sips his wine on the school roof as usual; gorging himself in a specially-reserved bento box. He liked it up above, where he could just rest, instead of dominating the school so fiercely.

- When he hears the sound of pattering footsteps traipsing across his sacred grounds, anger thunders down on his face. "To think that such a foolish mongrel would have the nerve to entrench themselves upon my resting area...How dare you-" The words freeze in his throat, as he catches sight of you.

- From your posture, to the expression on your face...Gilgamesh was ensnared within the thorns of captivation!

- "E-err...sorry about that." You bow politely, as wind billows through your beautiful strands of hair, eyes blossoming like the finest of flowers. "You see, I just like to sit here too sometimes." Albeit being rather nervous, you bravely spoke up for yourself, which he liked. "I mean, I can leave if you'd like but I like this place too-" His brusque red eyes catch you off guard, as you duck your head in agony; twiddling your fingers.

- He was so scary!! As you fluctuated between wanting to leave and wanting to stay (because its not as if Gilgamesh owns the school roof or anything), his hands suddenly grip yours- as he pulls you towards him with all the force of a bull.

- "How adorable...how utterly enthralling you are! I never expected to witness such a fine beauty upon these school grounds." Gilgamesh has already latched into his hardcore flirting mode, leaning in awkwardly close to your face. "Mongrel. Tell me your name. NOW."

- Eyes wide with shock, you reluctantly tell him your name, only for him to proclaim that you shall have his interest from now on. "Although you are a beauty, you are naught but a mongrel. If you catch my eye from now on as well, so be it!" He tries to play it cool, but is actually much more interested than he wants to let on. "Take this land for yourself. I have no need for it anymore."

-As he leaves- face beaming with joy- an ominous pit of worry pools in your stomach. You knew the rumors all to well- of how Gilgamesh was pretty tough work, relentless once interested; and the tales of all the people who he had left broken and rejected. 'I'd better pick a god and pray...'

- However, you are greatly surprised by how tame his approach is at first (let's just say that he can be quite a nuisance at times). Besides from randomly slotting the occasional gift atop your desk, and winking whenever you passed him by; Gilgamesh was pacing himself for once.

- Once you nervously asked your friends about this, they reassured you that he wasn't always quite so hardcore as he seemed. "He only pops off once he's fully invested! All the best," Your stomach churned slightly at the idea of that. The amount of expert knowledge they had on his movements were insane. Everybody treated him like a local celebrity!!

- However, all things drastically change once he crosses paths with you during Sports Ed. Bunking off yet another class deemed too banal to entertain him, he strolls through school grounds- only to catch sight of your legs trembling as you parry the horrible sports ed teacher's serves; tears dropping from your eyes- as other students watch blankly on, hoping to avoid eye contact with the situation altogether.

- Once the teacher picks his next unfortunate target, Gilgamesh is surprised to see you rush to the back; only to be taken aback by the next sight lying before him.

- Helping take care of students injured by your demonic excuse for a Sports Ed teacher, you mouth words of encouragement to them, despite clearly shaking with fear yourself. Despite being extremely shy and scared, it seemed as if you were trying desperately to support others, as well.

- "Hoh..." Now he was certainly interested. Slinking back to his private zone, Gilgamesh vows to conduct a little more research on a certain asshole Sports Ed teacher...

- Luck seems to strike the pan, for another huge encounter occurs once he bumps into you at the shoe lockers. The sun slowly sinks across the horizon; dappling the world around you in a bright orange light.

- "You've been evading me so skillfully lately, mongrel. Have my divine offerings been to your liking?" Leaning against your locker, he grins mischievously at you; red irises dancing with amusement.

- "T-the chocolates were nice...but I'm fine without any gifts. So you don't have to bring them anymore." Hugging your plastered hands to your chest, you lower your head. Now just wasn't the time, you were already drained for the day. "I have to go, sorry..."

- Now that was a surprise. Usually people would be dying for his attention, not evading him like this! However, this was exactly to Gilgamesh's liking oh my god. Leaning forwards, he's just about to attempt to set your heart aflutter with some cheesy adages until...

- The Sports Ed teacher bursts in, eyes brimming with rage. "Y/N!!! WHY ARE YOU LATE? All that talk about 'i want to protect my friends', and then you can't even come to club on time, huh? You freaking coward!" By this time, the teacher is gripping you by the arms, as scared tears drop from your eyes, expression frightened.

- Eyes narrowing with disgust, Gilgamesh stares at the events unfurling before him. His research had uncovered a great deal of trash on this teacher, who was infamous for training students way past their limits; bullying them severely for not fitting his ridiculous standards.

- Grabbing the teacher by the scruff of his neck, Gilgamesh forcefully pulls him away from your quivering figure. "How pathetic a troglodyte you are, to be treating your fellow mongrels with such disdain. " Gilgamesh all but hisses into the teacher's ears. "You leave me no choice but to punish you."

- "Punish me? Who the hell do you think you are, you bastard?! I'll suspend you for touching me!" The teacher slaps Gilgamesh's palm away, as you watch them with terror. Things were getting ugly, and fast.

- "I'm Gilgamesh. Remember the name, mongrel- especially once I've casted your meagre buttocks out of this estate." Unveiling his golden-plated phone, a horrifying gleam lights in his eyes as he reveals a huge list of the teacher's misdemeanors. "I know what pathetic things you've been up to...and about your abuse of power. Not that I'd usually care, mind you." However, the teacher had the gall to threaten you. Which basically meant that he was now dead meat?! he was gonna destroy him XD

- Worried, you step in before Gilgamesh can unleash one of his terrifying bribes upon the teacher. "W-wait, Gilgamesh!" As he turns to you-shocked that you'd address him by name, you smile. "I-I think we should have him legally fired instead...but that's just me..." That way, he'd never be able to become a teacher again.

- "Hoh, how kind-hearted of you. Well, I shall honor your rather pitiable request once." Gilgamesh shoos off the bewildered teacher, who looks confusedly between you both. "Fate has bestowed you with generous luck today; you pathetic excuse for a teacher. Depart the premises at once!"

- However, the teacher is extremely prideful; and lunges to attack Gilgamesh- flying so wildly off the mark that he legitimately crashes into the teacher's office nearby. Which alerts all of the teachers of the ensuing scuffle. Which then results in you having to bravely explain the situation...which ends up with the teacher being MIRACULOUSLY FIRED ON THE SPOT?!!!!

- It was as if this chain of events was perfectly orchestrated. As you look towards him with both a mixture of awe and fear, he heartily laughs. "Fuhahaha! Let's just say that Lady Luck favors me quite greatly." That was a lie. Gilgamesh knew much more than he was letting on.

- "Thank you." For the first time, you truly smiled at him; sunlight beaming down on your face. "For a scary tyrant, you can be really helpful sometimes." Those were not the words he was expecting to hear at all! Coughing awkwardly, Gilgamesh puts on a mask of nonchalance to avoid his burgeoning feelings. You weren't meant to say that!!!

- "Fuhn, I wasn't doing it to help you, nor the other pathetic mongrels that troglodyte was bullying. Don't get cocky, lowlife." And with that he was gone, as you waved goodbye.

romancing bit (?!!)

- Seeing as Gilgamesh is now very interested in you, he will most likely make sure to cross paths with you as often as possible; saying all sorts of cheesy and flirty things. He sits with you during break, loudly sipping wine by your side as other students look on with amazement. He also leaves letters and gifts by your desk everyday. The letters are eerily direct, proclaiming ominous things such as 'we shall wed...'

- Overall, he is overzealous and extremely headstrong in his approach, not giving you enough time to breathe. However if you tell him that you feel overwhelmed by his actions, he reconsiders them briefly...only to go over-the-top in different ways instead; hoping that you'll be pleased by his advances. I think Gilgamesh needs to learn more about self-restraint here.

- He'll probably want to take you to many places as well, and try and bowl you over with limited edition experiences; things that are beyond your wildest dreams. He's probably also going to get very serious as well by increasing the time he spends by your side considerably. Expect to see him everyday from now on, too!

- Is he the type to do a shoujo-manga style entrance to sweep you off your feet? Yes. He does helicopter landings every now and then, thrusting a bouquet at you. He also hires people to serenade you at times, much like something out of a romantic novel; and loves seeing your surprised reactions.

- He will get quite pushy at times, so it's recommended to alert him if you're not enjoying it. In his eyes, the two of you are as good as close contemporaries now.

- Exasperated, he finally decides to ask "Mongrel. What is it that you desire? Anything you shall wish for will be in your hands." He's absolutely convinced that he can do anything to win you over. However when you reply with a simple, "...I'd like some help with my studies!" as your adorable cheeks flush with determination, he sighs. There was no winning over you with conventional means. Yet, he is also spurred on by the challenge.

- "Although your response is a terribly common one, I'll oblige you." He certainly will. "With my expertise, you'll be acing all of your classes from now on!" When a color-coded, detailed guide on all of your subjects lands on your desk the next day, as Gilgamesh smiles smugly at you.

- As you flick through the pages, you see detailed notes on all the things you don't understand, and are quite shocked by the quality level of this. "T-this is amazing!" You gasp. "How did you do this?!"

- "I have my sources." He really did. "Mongrel. From now on, I shall stand by your side. Do not hesitate to call upon my assistance if need be." And with that, his word is final.

- I have a feeling that once he likes someone, he'll hold onto them quite tightly, and will do as much as he can to impress them; going out of his way to win their heart.

[mikami]

So I was scrolling through your blog (which is great btw) and I came across a take that I don't agree with. I believe L did care about his successor, just that he didn't care about the other candidates. We know from AN (which was approved by Ohba and is canon) that he took the time to personally meet Mello and even told him multiple stories of his past, probably because he imagined that Mello would likely be his successor or he just liked him more than Near.

(Same anon from previous ask about L wanting a successor) I also can't imagine that L's ego would allow for Watari to groom kids to continue his legacy if he didn't approve of it. The idea that L would allow his reputation as the world's best detective to possibly be tarnished by someone inferior is wildly OOC for me, which is why I believe he only cared about his actual successor and not the candidates (which was why he only had that one meeting with all of them). We know L cares somewhat about how he's percieved since on page 21, chapter 43 he stated that he didn't appreciate that Aiber wanted to use a fake L to get more money. I think he'd actually care about them meeting his successor once they were chosen.

That is a fair take.

Personally, I see L as somebody who cares about L's reputation while he's L, but who doesn't really care what happens after he dies because it's not like he'll be around to be affected by it.

But then, I suppose our views can at least somewhat work together.

I assume that L did not choose between Mello and Near yet because he was not actually planning to die young - so settling the matter of his succession (and thus of any potential rival who stands to gain from his death) is not a matter he feels particularly rushed about.

He might have met Mello because he was considering choosing him - but thought he would have more time to finalize that decision later.

As that scene with Mello and Near and Roger shows, L personally was the one who had the authority to choose, after all.

(I personally find Another Note secondary or tertiary when considering characterization, even despite its inclusion in the canon timeline, but that is just a preference thing, haha.)

In the end, this is something that isn't conclusively answered in canon, so I won't insist that "L grudgingly tolerates the program" is the be-all-end-all take even if it's mine.

What I do stand by is him demonstrably not caring about any of the kids as people - but we agree on that, so /thumbs up for different plausible interpretations