Tumgik
#I’m still lowkey new to the fandom
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I need a t-shirt and a button pin that says “I was there for the earlier days of the Jellystone! fandom”
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meercraft · 2 days
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my first post immideatly going viral was actually planned out and is the setup to provide for attention for when i eventually post my desert duo sort-of-horror fic . however if i get five likes on my future post promoting that fic i will delete my account forever
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akkivee · 11 months
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who made you get into hypmic
“i opened “i locked it” “i threw away the door” the key”
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Guess who just figured out how to properly look through the will of the many tag here on tumblr???
Anyways there’s more of us than I thought in this wee little fandom, which makes me very happy
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sorcerersseestars · 10 months
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 his eyes, your ears [part iv]
series masterlist
Gojo Satoru x reader
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summary: There was a time when you called him best friend, but those days escaped you long ago. There’s no way he’s alive – right? With the depth of his betrayal still lingering in your heart and mind, what would his reappearance spell for your life?
pairing: gojo satoru x gn! reader
genre: angst, hurt/comfort
fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen
warnings: cursing, lowkey a little mental torture, TW! s*xual a*sault (forced kiss), violence!!, one instance of vomiting (sry), immoral and creepy Geto, reader is kinda anxious nonstop (like writer like reader?), some details are non-canon (a/n 2.0 at end explains), also it’s slow for the first half but picks up I promise, I think I made Geto sound British???, also I made Hanami act like a mom kinda 💀 uh…im going to call it comic relief?
word count: 6.7k. oof.
a/n: I am literally SO SORRY that this has been sitting in my drafts for so long but… life happens! Along those lines – I wrote 1/2 of this in September and 1/2 of it in May, so it might be a bit disjointed sorryyy hehe
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“I didn’t ask for this.”
“Then you’ll have to live with disappointment,” He flashes you an all-too-pleased-with-himself smile. “Becaaause it’s totally permanently in your phone now.”
You roll your eyes. “Yeah, right. As if I wouldn’t be able to delete a contact.”
He has a devilish smirk on his face, but his voice is annoyingly innocent and cheerful. “Go ahead, try!”
You gasp. “Gojo! Did you jailbreak my new phone?!”
“Uh, uh! That not what my contact reads as!” He snatches your phone from your hands, and points a large finger to the tiny name on your screen. “It’s ‘My Beloved Best Friend Satoru’!”
“Satoru,” You say dangerously. “Erase this or I’ll erase you from existence.”
He chuckles. “Oh, I’d love to see you try. You’re cute when you try to beat me.”
Your mouth opens and closes as you try to find words, and you try to ignore the heat on your cheeks. “S-Satoru! You asshole, give me my phone back!”
He holds it high above your head, a wide smile lingering on his face. He’s having way too much fun with this. You jump, trying to swat it out of his hand, but to no avail.
“Why did you even do this?” You grumble, sighing. “What, is it ‘how many ways can I torture (Y/N) in the span of a few hours’ day?”
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re weak, remember? You gotta have me on speed dial if you want to survive in this line of work.”
First, your eyes widen at his blunt statement. Then you sigh again, this time a bit sadly. “Wow, you have so much faith in me…thanks.”
“You never know what’s out there,” Gojo says. “If you ever have any trouble, call me.”
You narrow your eyes at him, “Is this a prank? I thought you hated ‘helping the weak’.”
“I’m serious, (Y/N),” He says firmly. “I’ll always pick up. Abuse the privilege, whatever, I don’t care. Just don’t die.”
Your head snaps towards him, mouth hanging open with shock. “Satoru, what…? I’m not going to…”
You fall silent. There’s no guarantee of that.
He steps closer to you, closer than what you’d consider friendly. Your heart skips a beat.
“Just do it, okay? I’ll always be on the other end.”
Always, huh? But now…
Ring, ring, ring. You bite your lip, pressing your phone hard against your ear, as if his voice will appear if you wish it enough. Ring, ring, ring.
“Please…” You whisper. “Come on, come on.”
Your breath hitches as the distinctive timbre of Satoru’s voice fills your ear, but your shoulders fall almost immediately.
“Hey, sorry I’ve missed your call! If you close your eyes, recite my name five times, and spin around twice, I might get back to ya! No exceptions – not even–”
You sigh and hang up before you’re put through to voice mail. It’s not like he’ll listen to it, anyway.
He’s been avoiding you. You haven’t seen him for days – six, to be exact. It’s been five days since Shoko deemed you well enough to recover at home, despite the worryingly slow rate that your cursed energy has been returning. You were released with the promise you wouldn’t exert yourself and absolutely would not use any cursed energy. All the while, you had childishly held two crossed fingers behind your back – your promise was as empty as you felt.
You should have expected this; this shouldn’t hurt so much. Gojo is the strongest sorcerer the world has seen for hundreds of years. He never runs from his foes – he doesn’t need to. When it comes to facing emotions, however, he is all but mighty. Whenever his emotions run high, overflowing until they begin to leak out into broad daylight, he turns tail and practically erases himself from existence. It’s nearly impossible to find him – he mysteriously leaves no trace, even for an experienced tracker like you.
You left Shoko with an empty smile and promise, and Gojo has done just the same. Despite him swearing that he’d be back to see you, Gojo is nowhere to be found. You’ve dropped by at the school multiple times, even asking his students if they knew of his whereabouts, but nobody has been able to give you an answer.
He’s been dodging your calls, letting it ring until his chirpy voicemail message mocks you. The text messages you leave go unread, unopened.
When you hopelessly reopen your chat with him, you can’t help but bite yoru nails as you stare at the wall of blue on your screen. Message after message – unfinished thoughts, apologies, words full of urgency and desperation – are left by trembling hands bloodied by your own worry.
‘I’m the strongest,’ He always says, so why does fear spike in your veins at the thought of Geto finding him? 
Even though his own arrogant words ring through your head, you can’t quell the anxiety that threatens to wreak havoc over your fragile state. You’re worried, so worried, and it bleeds into the rest of your life: you’re all over the place, constantly forgetting appointments and important items, you are inexplicably tense, your breathing is constantly shallow and quick; you’re barely holding yourself together.
A few days ago, you had your meeting with Yaga, alone, which went just as horribly as you could have imagined, but you were thankfully spared contact with the higher-ups due to your condition.
But you’re almost all better now – at least physically. That’s why you’re back again, ready for another round of manipulation and abuse.
You’re out of it, so out of it. Your eyes are glazed over, and nothing they say registers in your mind. Even when you try to focus on the words leaving their mouths, your brain filters it all back into mindless noise.
There’s a sequence of very familiar syllables: ah, your name is being shouted. You look up with empty eyes, blinking slowly.
“Useless sorcerer, answer me, now!” Gakuganji roars. “You are testing our patience, and I’ve just about run out of it. Can you track him, or not?”
You breathe in shakily, and let out a weak, clueless, “What?”
“Track him, or they’re dead,” He spits. “Track Geto Suguru. Find him. We won’t wait long. If you haven’t reported back in a week, your parents won’t be able to enjoy their retirement any longer.”
Some of the other council members shift uncomfortably at his bluntness, but you barely even flinch.
You’re so tired of it all. You almost wish you had encouraged Gojo to just off them once and for all.
“Okay,” You mumble softly, lacking the energy to project your voice. “I can do it. I will track Geto Suguru.”
You drag yourself out without acknowledging them, without any show of respect, but the thought of caring is lost on you. Your apathy leaves a trail of displeased whispers, but you don’t even notice.
You speed-dial his number again and again and again, and are returned with nothing but the taunt of his cheerfully recorded memo.
When you finally look away from his contact info burning your retinas, your gaze is trained on the clear sky. It shouldn’t be so vivid, shouldn’t be so beautiful – today should be overcast and rainy. You can’t help but frown, but your eyes remain on the heavens.
Then you’re granted a sight that usually coaxes a smile out of you no matter how you feel: a particularly large gust of wind lays out a collection of reddening autumn leaves against the azure sky. They swirl and dance in the breeze, hovering in your field of vision for a few more moments before they are whipped away. 
It’s a sign of the changing of seasons – it has always been one of your favorite times of the year, especially during your years at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The rapid approach of the holidays and the time spent training with your classmates in the chilly air has always enlivened you.
Today, this sight drives fat tears to roll down your cheeks. It just serves to remind you of the juxtaposition between those blissful times and these turbulent times: the weight of Geto’s betrayal, his subsequent death, his impossible revival.
You turn your head to the side, eyes tracking the leaves as they dance into the distance. 
“So I’m really doing this then,” You whisper to yourself. “Yeah, guess I am. You’re not here to stop me…”
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They’re far from Tokyo, much further than they were before. That much is obvious from the start, when you first scour for their residuals. After a disappointing first try by Jujutsu High - you shouldn’t expected much, anyway - you decide to return to their last known location: the forest you nearly were obliterated in. You dread returning there, but you have little choice unless you want to do a whole lot of guesswork.
You drive yourself there. Usually, you would be accompanied by your usual driver Ijichi, but the thought of asking him didn’t even cross your mind. In the eyes of the Jujutsu world, this is a suicide mission. You’re well aware of that: so why involve anyway else unnecessarily, risking innocent lives?
You’re grateful for the calming scenery that blurs by: miles and miles of inhabited land, solely occupied by woodland’s creatures. Hardly any curses are present in the countryside, as there are no humans to feed off of. Those special grades you faced were certainly the exception.
You pull over to the edge of the forest once you sense a steady stream of cursed energy. The residual energy is at least a week old - just around the time of your unfortunate encounter with them. You close your eyes and carefully sift through all of the cursed energy signatures left behind, immediately identifying Hanami’s and Jogo’s faint residuals. There’s one stronger energy, and very familiar: Satoru’s cursed energy.
His cursed energy is so easy to pick out, no matter where you are. It’s so bright and lively, practically humming under your fingers every time you sense it, almost as if it were your own.
But there’s a shadow – his energy shadows another. You concentrate, sensing an underlying current of a more recent energy. Your eyes fly open, startled by your discovery. It is much fresher than the others: the residuals are only a few days old.
Its signature is both unknown and yet alarmingly familiar. It’s dark, so dark. Its energy chokes you, holds you hostage with the way it starts to stick to you and steal your courage with its oppressiveness. You’ve never felt an energy quite like this, yet it feels all too familiar.
You begin to shake, the reality sinking in. “Geto…. Just what have you become?”
You shakily clamber back into the driver’s seat, firmly gripping the steering wheel with sweaty hands. Geto was here. Geto knows that you and Satoru were in the same vicinity as Jogo and Hanami. There’s absolutely no way he doesn’t know — you carelessly hadn’t wiped your residuals or even tried to cover your tracks.
You step on the gas. You keep your cursed energy flowing as you speed down the road, revealing a murky trail of residuals to follow. His cursed energy is so distinctly foul that you can pick it out from the rest with little effort. It’s overwhelming and makes you nauseous. Cursed with a twist of familiarity – a sickening combination.
Your mind begins to race. Is this how Gojo felt back then? No, it must have been so much worse, tracking one of your soulmates down with the intent to…to kill. And now you’re being forced to track him down again, just so the higher-ups can order Gojo to repeat history, just so your best friends will be forced to fight until one is–
You jerk the steering wheel over, making for a rough pull-over job. You throw yourself out of the car as quickly as possible before retching your stomach’s contents out onto the dark pavement.
The old wounds in your heart flare up; you clutch your chest desperately.
You are not strong enough to protect your parents - but are you strong enough to survive the alternative, the reality you and Gojo can’t help but deny?
“I have to,” You whisper to yourself. “I have to do this. I have no power in this world, I’m not the strongest…so this is all I can do.”
And so you are off again, this time unwavering from the course you’re set on.
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By the time you reach Kyoto, an untimely five hours of panicked driving later, their residuals are so apparent that you hardly have to try. It’s almost as if they’re luring you in, the most sensitive tracker known in the Jujutsu world; why else would they leave behind such obvious traces of their cursed energy?
You ignore your instincts that scream for you to turn back, and instead continue into the outskirts of the most outer part of the residential areas – the residuals lead you far from the city itself.
As you venture further into the countryside, your stomach begins to clench. The residuals are much stronger now, but not alarmingly so. They should still be miles and miles out, perhaps 40 or 50 – there should be enough distance to not alert them of your presence. However, as a precaution, you stretch your hearing beyond the range of any normal human. You still feel unsettled, even with the extra layer of protection.
This is dumb. This is a terrible idea. Yet, you keep your foot firmly on the gas pedal.
You are suddenly flooded with an overwhelming wave of noise. Your brain barely has a second to process what your ears pick up: the roar of an object hurtling towards your car. You swerve to the roadside, and you’re barely fast enough: the driver’s side door is nearly scraped off, and it begins to smolder.
It shouldn’t be possible. They shouldn’t be here. Not again.
Running on pure adrenaline, you rip your seatbelt off and throw yourself to the passenger’s side door, seeking an escape from the next impending strike. Your hearing is more sensitive from your frenzied state, and you hear the next meteor much earlier this time. You rely on your hearing, on your hearing only: it will tell you where to dodge.
You climb out of the car, wheezing on smoke and fumes, and take off running. You gasp at the sound of the next meteor closing in on you and quickly dive away, throwing yourself to the ground and covering your head with your hands. The explosion is so intense that even after reducing your hearing, you feel the shock reverberate through your body and overpower any other sensation you feel.
After the ringing in your ears lets up for a moment, you finally feel the aftermath of the blast: shards of heated rock are embedded in your side, scorching your skin. There’s no time to even think about it: you’re up and running away from the voices that soon enter your hearing.
“You imbecile! Do you always have to do the opposite of what you’ve been ordered?” The grating tones of Hanami enter your ears as he hisses at Jogo. “He said captured alive! Or would you rather face his wrath?”
Captured? So they had been expecting your arrival; it was a trap all along.
“Relax, I haven’t even made a scratch yet!” Jogo shouts back.
“You’re embarrassing yourself in many ways,” Hanami scoffs. “If your intention was to kill, I will begin to further doubt your abilities. I already had to rescue you from that sorcerer, or has your pea-brain already forgotten that failure after it fell off of your body?”
“Shut up already,” Jogo growls. “I got it, okay?”
You truly don’t know what to do. Your last encounter made it very clear that you are solely a tracker with limited offensive ability. Hell, you didn’t even try last time because you knew it be to utterly pointless – the result would turn out no better if you tried now. Two special grades against a Grade 1 sorcerer with Grade 2 offensive abilities? You don’t stand a chance in that regard.
They’re in too close of proximity to disguise your presence – cutting off your cursed energy would be pointless. There’s only one other trick up your sleeve to increase your chances of surviving if they do decide to attack again.
You feel their cursed energies so much more clearly – when you steal a glance behind yourself, you can faintly see them in the distance. Not good.
Jogo suddenly barks out a laugh. “Boss never said we couldn’t rough anybody up though, did he? Got you there, dumbass! Don’t try to stop me!”
Really not good.
There’s a sudden spike in cursed energy – and that energy is heading straight for you. You try to dodge, but your reaction is too late. You feel the heat even before the impact, and you decide you definitely need to utilize your other ability. It’s not perfect, nor is it a full-fledged technique yet, but you have little choice but to use it now.
You concentrate all your energy into the side that will take the hit, and imagine an impenetrable wall. You think of Gojo’s Infinity: the space that can never crossed, no matter how much force is exerted. You don’t have the ability to manipulate space like Gojo, but your shield imitates his impenetrability.
Jogo’s fiery body slams into your side. Your breath is instantly knocked out of you, and the searing pain returns. Your shield absorbs the brunt of the strike, but you’re still knocked back at least thirty feet. You tumble into the undergrowth, your back squarely hitting a tree in your path.
You can’t stop the howl that escapes your lungs, and the ragged breathing that follows.
“They tried to stop it! It wasn’t even a fraction of my power and they couldn’t stop it! And you’re telling me that Gojo Satoru is interested in them?” Jogo howls in laughter. “How pathetic!”
At your next blink, Jogo has materialized in front of you. You weakly stagger to the side, wanting to get away but knowing you can’t deep down. They’re just toying with you – if they decided to get rid of you, they’d be able to almost instantly.
Jogo shouts loudly, “So weak it makes me sick! You can only run away, huh? Boss is right – creatures like you are disgusting.”
He rushes forward again, and you rush to encase yourself in your imperfect shield. To your surprise, you are not struck down: instead, you’re…in his arms??
“Hanami! Since you won’t let me have anymore fun, I guess we should go back,” Jogo yells across the clearing to the other Special Grade.
A burst of petals flies past your eyes; Hanami emerges from a newly-grown patch of flowers. They don’t say anything, but they approach Jogo and stand right over his shoulder. Jogo eyes Hanami suspiciously.
“Why are you hovering over me?” Jogo grumbles. “Stay away, tree hugger.”
“It’s almost as if he knew you were going to pull this,” Hanami huffs. “There’s a reason I’ve been keeping an eye on you.”
“They’re alive, that was the only request. Did Boss put you up to that ‘good guy’ act, huh? Agh, such arrogant scum! Thinks he can tell me what to do?”
Despite your shield, Jogo’s heat begins to affect you. You cough violently, and when you glance at your hands you see rivulets of red.
“Yes, I think that’s accurate, considering you call him ‘Boss’. Now, hand them over before they go up in flames.”
Jogo grunts unhappily, but complies. You’re transferred to the rough bark limbs of the tree cursed spirit. Hanami sighs at the sight of your angry red burns, eyeing Jogo, “Such a barbaric curse…destructive to all life and environment.”
“HAH! You-!” Jogo guffaws. “I’ve see you uproot your own forests! Environmentally friendly my ass! Shut your trap.”
You wince from his loudness.
“So obnoxious, isn’t he? Well, you’re the lucky one here - you get to take a nap,” Hanami says. “Rest well before your…‘meeting’.”
Your pulse quickens at the expression on the curse’s face: a demented sort of excitement. There’s a sweet floral smell that falls over you, and then you begin to grow sleepy. Your eyelids start to flutter as you try to fight it – but you are eventually pulled deep into a dreamless sleep.
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You are roused from your sleep by the touch of another. A hand on your forehead – a comforting presence. It’s warm, and familiar. You’re about to smile widely and look deep into his crystal eyes, but when your bleary eyes begin to focus, your heart stops.
There’s an easy, gentle smile on his face. His dark eyes shine brightly, but your own can’t help but drift to the obvious surgical scar running across his entire forehead.
Your reflexes kick in: you smack his hand away, rejecting the unwanted touch, and fall into a defensive stance. He lets out a hum of amusement, but otherwise does not react.
“My old friend,” Geto Suguru coos. “How wonderful it is to see you again. Never thought I’d be able to – what a gift your presence is, my dear.”
It’s then that you realize that you’re shaking; your chattering teeth render you unable to let any words out.
“Did Jogo and Hanami rough you up again? How rude of them,” He sighs. “But don’t be scared, it’s just your old friend Suguru.”
He stops to let his eyes roam over your hunched form. A sickening smirk spreads across his face – sickening because it’s just like the sweet smiles he used to give you.
“You know, you really are the best tracker around. I have to say, I’m quite impressed. Too bad I know all your little tricks, though. Did you like the surprise I set up especially for you?” He smirks. “It’s hard to catch such a talented tracker as you off guard, but I think I managed quite well. You didn’t detect a thing, did you? They were supposed to be much further away, I know…it’s fascinating, isn’t it, the feats you can achieve through sorcery?”
You only stare at him in horror.
“No? Well, I know at least Jogo enjoyed it,” He says with a soft laugh, but his next words cause icy chills to run down your spine. “But I think I enjoyed it the most. The look on your face…was perfect.”
Your stomach turns at his words. His gaze is even worse: there’s a hungry, disturbing glint to them. Your eyes flit from his sharp onyx eyes to his traditional wear: his inky yukata and gilded kasaya are elegant and beautiful, but emanate darkness.
“Forgot what I looked like? It has been a while, hasn’t it?” Geto smiles. His smile is soft and almost sweet, but out of place; its familiarity makes your stomach churn.
“You shouldn’t be here,” You finally speak, voice quiet and cracking. “You shouldn’t exist.”
“That’s a bit harsh, doll. I’m not the only one who doesn’t belong in this world,” He says, lip curled in disgust. “Monkeys roam the earth. That’s more of a disgrace than my existence…I hope you’d agree.”
You only manage to gasp out, “How are you even here?”
His eyes meet yours, crinkling in a dark sort of amusement. “You’d love to know, wouldn’t you? There’s a price to pay for that knowledge, doll.”
“You’d…Geto would never hurt me,” You whimper. “Never.”
Geto just smiles. “I wouldn’t? Maybe not.”
His piercing eyes seem to see stare right through you. “But what about my best friend?”
You freeze.
“Is that such an uncomfortable thought?” He chuckles a little too lightly. “Never thought about it even once? Not even after he killed me?”
He tuts at you, clicking his tongue. “Sweetheart, I knew you were blinded by him, but never to this degree. How low you have fallen…”
He moves closer. Your breath is trapped in your lungs and you can’t move.
“One toe out of line and you might end up like me. Don’t you see?” He shakes his head.
Hot anger flashes through you, and your tongue lashes out before you can think. “One toe out of line? No. No. You committed genocide. You murdered your entire family in the name of it. For what? A delusional dream?”
He sighs. “Of course. So brainwashed…you’re practically a monkey. How disappointing. You don’t get it, do you? I was apparently his everything, and look how I ended up.”
“You’re not Geto!” You cry out. “You can’t be.”
He laughs softly, but his gaze is razor-sharp. “Are you sure these aren’t Geto’s thoughts?”
You bite your lip in nervous thought. “Ge- you…why am I here?”
He ignores your question as he begins to circle you like a hawk, eyes sharp and hungry. “You know, you’re not quite what I imagined you to be.”
You take a few tentative steps back, trying to subtly increase the distance between you and the living corpse in front of you, but he strides over to your side when he notices.
“I’m just so curious,” He says, eyes raking over your figure. “You really are (Y/N), aren’t you? Fits the descriptions…”
The blood drains from your face. You back away from his seeking hands that threaten to touch you, to investigate you.
“There’s a disgusting amount of papers with your name written all over them – I don’t think Hanami would have liked me much before. Such a waste of stationery,” He says, his twisted smirk pulling shivers down your spine. “Why was I so fixated on you? You don’t look like anything special. Don’t tell me…I actually fell for someone as plain as you?”
“What?” You breathe out, eyes wide, mouth parted in surprise. “Geto, you…he…it wasn’t like that.”
“And you didn’t even know,” He coos in faux pity. “How cruel to find out in this way. Seems like you have only ever focused on my former equal. You only pay attention to the strongest – how shallow. What did I ever see in you?”
“I- that’s not-“ You try to form a sentence, deny it, say it’s not true because it truly isn’t, but your tongue and vocal chords won’t cooperate with you.
“When confronted with the truth, humans get tongue tied,” He smiles, voice dripping with mockery. “How precious. What a good little monkey you are – so unbearably typical, so exemplary of your species.”
“Stop,” You gasp out.
“What, sweets? Can’t handle the truth?”
“Don’t call me that,” You try to say with conviction, but it leaves you weakly and softly, almost a plea.
“What, you only like it when he calls you that?” He says with a dark chuckle. “How pathetic. How much has you brainwashed you into thinking he acutally wants anything to do with you? Gojo doesn’t like to get attached. And even when he does–”
He leans forward, invading your space, pressing up too closely to your body. “–sometimes you still end up dead.”
“Stop,” You beg. “Get away from me. You’re-you’re scaring me, Suguru.”
“Am I?” He smirks. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know what to do to make you forgive me, though. Used to work on Shoko, too.”
“No, stop!” You cry, ragged breaths leaving you. “This isn’t you, stop, please, stop!”
“You’re right,” He smiles wickedly, eyes dark. “It’s not.”
His lips meet yours. It burns your skin, but not pleasantly – it’s all wrong, and it hurts. You shove him away with as much force as you can, leaving him stumbling back a few paces. He laughs. He laughs.
“Wow, I’m impressed,” He chuckles, amused. “You’re stronger than you used to be. Maybe you actually live up to being Grade 1 now, huh?”
“Who are you?!” You cry out. “Why did you bring me here?”
“I’m Geto Suguru,” He says with a crazed smile. “Is it that hard to believe when my body was never retrieved?”
“What do you want from me?” You snarl, growing angry. “You’ve just been toying with me, you bastard. Trying to play all these mind games on me, leaving your dirty work to your underlings. None of it feels substantial enough to kidnap me.”
A cackle escapes Geto, “You’re right, it isn’t. By yourself, you aren’t of any interest to me. Just a memento of the past – I don’t have any use for you.”
He continues with a smirk, “I have to say though, your reactions have piqued my interest slightly. Jogo seems to feel the same way. Perhaps if you could be our little monkey for entertainment - it might keep Jogo out of trouble elsewhere.”
Reduced to entertainment.
“You’re sick,” You say, shaking your head.
“Hardly. It’s only natural treatment for someone so unimportant. Should I be frank?” He asks, touching his chin to mock contemplation. “You are here solely as means of luring him out.”
You break out in a cold sweat. It was as you suspected and feared: you are only bait. Bait for the strongest.
“He won’t come,” You declare. “This is pointless.”
“Do you take me as an idiot monkey?” Geto frowns. “You’re not the only one who can read residuals. He came last time, and he will come this time.”
“He doesn’t know,” You hiss. “He won’t come. He doesn’t want to see me right now.”
Geto only smiles. “He’ll come.”
His confidence scares you. Even though it would be very unlikely Gojo is even aware that you’re away on a mission, doubt still swirls in your gut. You don’t want him to walk into this trap – who knows what Geto has planned?
While you mull over your thoughts, Geto grows impatient.
“This is quite dull. Let’s test your strength, First Grader,” He smirks. “Maybe they’ll pass you to Special Grade if you can land a single hit.”
Suddenly, your breath is stolen from you. You double over in pain, caught off guard by the assault to your stomach. It was only a kick, but it was the hardest you’ve been hit in your entire life by another sorcerer.
“Silly me, I’ve forgotten my manners,” Geto says drily. “When harkening back to our school days, I must ask if you’re ready before we spar.
But don’t forget, the enemy won’t wait for you. Didn’t we learn that?”
Satoru’s words. He would often preemptively attack before the sparring session officially began, and he would always recite those exact words. You feel sick.
You don’t respond, knowing it would take away from your focus. Instead, you concentrate on pouring your cursed energy into your hearing technique.
He begins his initial assault: he’s extremely agile, and his punches and kicks seem to come out of thin air. You anticipate his attacks with your highly developed sense of hearing, listening for each twitch of his muscles and the roar of his appendages slashing through the air. Essentially, you read his moves before he has finished them. Your body can’t always keep up with your hearing enough to avoid him, though, but the blows are lessened by your half-developed shielding.
You haven’t attempted a single hit of your own – all your energy has gone into avoiding each of his potent attacks. Every time you see an opening, your chance is ruined by another attack of his.
After a few minutes of religiously defending, your senses slow. You can hear everything, but you can’t physically keep up with him. You begin to take hit after hit after hit – until you’re forced to retreat several paces back. Blood drips from your nose, spilling into your mouth and filling your mouth with the metallic tang of iron. It tastes of defeat and cowardice.
“Are you sure you’re not a monkey?” Geto roars in laughter. “To call you a sorcerer is sacrilegious at best. How disappointing you are. Haven’t improved an ounce since our days together, have you? Other than that half-baked excuse of a technique - trying to imitate the strongest, perhaps?”
You ignore his taunts, using the time to draw out two small daggers from your sleeves. You fare better with bows, but the twin blades are better than nothing.
“What cute little pocket knives,” Geto jeers. “They look sharp.”
“Want to find out?” You growl.
He scoffs. “I’d like to see you try.”
It is a dance that never ends – you are held captive by the need to defend yourself, not able to stop without the fear of further injury. You are slowly giving up hope when time seems to slow down. Your breath hitches as you spot what you need desperately: an opening. You zero in on the opening, thrusting your right hand into the open space. A spurt of red splashes your hand – your aim was true.
You step back immediately, parrying his retaliating blow with your other blade. More droplets spill over you, a shower of red that makes you nauseous.
You’re breathing hard. You haven’t fought with a sorcerer – or even a curse – for a long time, and it’s taking more of your strength than you anticipated.
Geto doubles over, which fills you with confusion. There’s no way those two nicks did any substantial damage, so why is he hunched over in pain?
And then you hear it. Laughter. Crazed laughter erupts from him in waves. When he looks up at you, the fear in the pit of your stomach intensifies. He’s not hurt – he’s pissed off. Very.
“I have to admit, you exceeded my expectations. But that’s not saying much when I expected nothing from a dirty monkey like you,” He spits. “What a brat.”
“If I recall correctly, you were the one who wanted to spar like old times,” You glare, grip tightening on your daggers. “It was only per your suggestion.”
“Your insolence boils my blood…how does he care for someone like you?! How did I?!” He roars. “You are nothing!”
He rushes forward faster than you can register and knocks you to the ground. You instinctively roll out of the way and are still nearly stomped on. You try to stand up, or even just sit up, but can’t. You begin to panic – you feel frozen in place, unable to even turn your head.
“Now you can’t run away,” He growls. “Should I make it a little unbearable? You deserve it.”
You feel a great pressure forcing your body into the ground. It’s excruciating; you feel as if your bones are grinding together and all your muscles are compressed. You can’t bite back the cry that erupts from your throat.
“Now you really feel the gravity of the situation,” He says with a demented smile. “You know, maybe I don’t need you anyway. He can just come to retrieve your body. Can’t make the same mistake twice, after all. Leaving a body to rot is a vulnerability. I could fix that for him, too…leave a puddle where you used to stand? If I crush you long enough, perhaps…”
“Fuck you,” You manage to get out. “You’ll never win. You’ll never beat Satoru.”
You fall flat on your face, coughing, as you are released from his technique. You try to push yourself up, but you only manage to a kneeling position. Not that it matters anyway, not when you are grabbed by your throat and hoisted in the air.
“Do you always make so many mistakes?” He hisses. “It’s like you want me to kill you.”
You couldn’t respond even if you wanted to with how hard he’s clutching your trachea. You have no idea when you dropped your blades, but they’re not in your hands now, so you have to resort to pitifully clawing at his grip with your bare hands.
Your vision begins to blur and darken as you asphyxiate. Howls of laughter ring in your ears, getting quieter and then louder as your hearing fades in and out.
Is this how it will end? No, it can’t, you can’t let it. You can’t leave yourself to die at the hands of Geto Suguru. You can’t die at the hands of your former friend, and be found by your other best friend. You can’t do that to him.
You claw harder, more desperately, even though you feel yourself weakening. It’s futile – his grip won’t even loosen at your efforts.
You have to use your weaker technique. If you do it perfectly, it might propel him from your body, giving you a chance to escape. Escape to where, you don’t know, but you need to try. You don’t have any chance otherwise.
With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you focus all of your cursed energy into the skin that is touching Geto. Your close your eyes, visualizing the perfect invisible wall that encases Gojo – no flaws, no gaps, no way to get past – and then you release your energy.
There’s a loud smack that resonates through the air, and then you crumple to the ground. When you look up, you can see a hard shell jutting between you and Geto, effectively shielding you. Geto is clutching his arm, which is now red and swollen.
You actually did it. It was a perfect use of your technique.
“You are frustrating, but no matter. I have other methods at my disposal. Didn’t think I’d have to pull this on you, but you seem to be begging for your demise, so I might as well use it,” He grits his teeth, and holds one arm out, his forearm curling up.
A ball of black energy appears at his fist. It is nebulous and shifts as it grows bigger. It begins to glow as time passes, as it amasses more energy. You have no idea what that is, but you highly doubt your shield will be able to block it. As you think about your options, your shield begins to fade away – you are nearly out of cursed energy. You are wide-eyed as you watch the last sections of your shield dissipate to nothing.
Entirely defenseless, you heave yourself to a standing position and try to stumble away. You fall to one knee in agony – Jogo and Geto have taken a toll on you.
You look over to see the ball of darkness leave Geto’s fingers. You are frozen, knowing you can do nothing, but also knowing you will die if you do nothing.
It approaches, and you close your eyes. Hopefully it will completely destroy you in a single instant, so it won’t be torturous. At least you won’t be in pain for long.
It’s going to hit you. And then you suppose it does. You feel weightless, like you weigh nothing. Perhaps your body has been destroyed, and this is how your brain is processing the absence of your nerve endings.
But if you are not here anymore, why does the wind whip through your ears?
You were mistaken. You don’t just feel weightless, you are weightless.
When you open your eyes, tears spill out at the sight in front of you. Tousled white hair, a blindfold tucked over his eyes, rigid determination showing through his features.
“I didn’t know this is where we were holding the school reunion. Class of ‘007, except Geto went all rogue and didn’t end up graduating. What a failure!”
His words are playful, and he’s smiling, but somehow his tone doesn’t match. It’s serious and dark, not at all jocular. He seems to be making an effort to keep up his lighthearted persona, but his true feelings can’t help but bleed out.
“Ah, you finally showed up,” Geto cackles. “It’s not good to have a weakness. I was about to do you a favor.”
Gojo laughs bitterly, “Don’t you know? Strength comes from weaknesses. Not that you would understand.”
“In any case…” He looks down at you. “I won’t let you take away my strongest weakness.”
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next part
a/n 2.0: Okay so, idk how it 100% is in the manga bc I haven’t read it, but basically this ‘Geto’ (*cough* Kenjaku) has thoughts that are Kenjaku but with some of Geto’s memories ?? .. sorry if that’s non canon heehee
Bonus!!: Also I’ve been learning some Japanese so here is Gojo’ name spelled out: ごじょさとる。This is more for my own enjoyment 🫣 but here you go lol
tag list: @thenyxsky, @whitehairedtwink, @screwyou3
also thank you @zoyatoshi for your such sweet reblogs 🥹🥹 literally inspired me to finish this chapter up after 6+ months !!
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absurdthirst · 7 months
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Hi Keri! Please feel no pressure to answer this or anything but I know you sometimes do real life kinda advice for people? I guess I’m new to the general Pedro fandom (I’ve known who he is for ages and also been on tumblr for ages but somehow my idiot brain never thought about searching him on here) and it sounds silly but I’m a little lowkey terrified about being here. I know the fandom got a lot of new people recently/since tlou and some people aren’t thrilled with that, which I can understand, and I don’t want to make anything worse (even though my anxious ass can barely make myself watch his interviews—which he obviously agreed to have public as part of his job—because I start worrying if I’m not being respectful of his privacy). I’ve been silently lurking for a while and can’t bring myself to interact or post anything (even though my writing is probably shit anyway ha) because I don’t want to contribute to a problem or make anything worse for anybody and maybe the fandom was sort of “full up” before everything got big this year and I should just leave well enough alone?
Hello love!
Thank you for interacting with me and I hope that you don't decide to disengage from the fandom.
Writing fanfics about characters isn't intrusive. Loving a kind and sweet man who happens to be a very talented and attractive actor isn't intrusive. Wanting to participate in a fandom and scream over those things isn't intrusive.
What's intrusive? Trying to 'out' his sexuality when he has never publicly stated anything. Trying to 'prove' he's with this person or was with that person. POSTING HIS PERSONAL WRITING BLOG. @'ing him rude and disgusting things that shouldn't be said in public. Trying to get close to people who are close to him to get the 'scoop'. DM'ing anyone who happens to meet him in order to try to gain information. STALKING HIS LOCATION. Interrupting friends/family live feeds on IG to ask question about him. Any kind of basic harassing behavior.
That is most definitely intrusive and disgusting. Being a fan isn't being privy to everything that happens in his life and demanding his time. It's about celebrating a talented man's work. At the end of the day, it IS work for him and his private life - unless he offers information - should be off the table.
You don't seem to be guilty of doing this. So please don't leave. The fandom isn't "full up", it's just at times full of people who claim to be fans, but have parasocial relationships with a celebrity and cross the line. We could do with less of those.
Love Pedro. Celebrate him. Scream over him. Go gaga over all this characters and just love him to pieces. Interact with your faves and perhaps post some of those stories you've been squirreling away (I bet it's not shit)
Fans who respect his privacy and still want to love him are exactly the kind of fans that are needed.
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amazingmsme · 3 months
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Hi! I’m quite new to this fandom but I thought I’d drop an ask! Do you have any tk headcanons for if Paul, Emma and Richie lived together? I feel like they’d make such a cute weird little family. Thanks!
Omg hi & welcome to the fandom!
So if Richie were to live with Uncle Paul & Emma it would mean that something either happened to his parents, or maybe they left the country on a business trip or even missionary work. Any way you justify it, he’s still young & needs to live with a trusted guardian, & that just so happens to be Paul
Paul is so awkward & nervous at first because he wants to make sure that Richie feels right at home, so he lowkey hovers & acts like Regina George’s mom & Emma’s like “chill bro he’s your nephew not the king”
Richie is v impressed by his uncle’s cool hot new girlfriend & with Emma standing RIGHT THERE he straight up asks Paul “so have you hit it? 😏”
Paul is mortified & is trying to stutter out an answer but Emma’s faster & says “more times than I can count!” & holds up her hand for a high five. Paul promptly puts her arm down
Paul & Richie grow a lot closer during this time & Paul will sometimes reward him for good grades or behavior by letting him play hooky & takes him to do something fun
Ok & now what y’all actually came here for
If you’ve seen my other headcanons for Paul being Richie’s uncle, then you’ll know how Richie would get him to play tickle games like tag & hide & seek or other things that Richie would make up on the spot. Once he got older Paul stopped because he just assumed he was getting “too old” for that kind of thing & he didn’t want to be the cliche embarrassing family member. But after moving in, Richie brings up some of the memories & he kinda seems like he misses it
& Paul gets a rare bout of mischief, & decides it’s been way too long since he’s heard that kid laugh. & when he was younger, Paul would pretend to be the tickle monster & talk in a funny growly voice. & Paul clears his throat & does The Voice. He’s a little rusty but Richie immediately knows what he’s doing & is all giggly & tripping over himself as he runs away & Paul’s just doing the slow ass Michael Myers walk
Emma’s confused but very amused as she watches her boyfriend chase him down & act all goofy & once he catches him she yells her encouragement
Paul is a very silly ler, especially with Richie & it makes him laugh even more than usual
He’ll refrain from teasing him too much when his friends are over, but he’ll poke or squeeze his sides just to make him squeak
After they get comfortable with each other, which doesn’t take very long, Paul recruits Emma’s help in cheering up Richie whenever it’s needed. & he convinces Richie to help him wreck Emma too
It backfires when Richie walks in on Emma completely destroying Paul & she asks for some help. Sucks to suck, don’t it Paul?
Richie tries to imitate Paul’s tickle monster voice & it flusters him sooooo much
They’re just one big happy family ok I love them so damn much!
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joe-moi · 2 months
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I kinda look at it this way; I was lucky enough to meet him a few times at the earlier Fan Expos. I’ve met more engaging celebs (I hate to say this, but meeting Jamie put things into perspective because he was so kind and so engaged and talked to me for a couple of minutes and it really felt like he cared about what I have to say) but I’ve always had good interactions with him. I made him laugh, I asked him about movies or music or whatever. He def matches energy, and I think he appreciates when people bring things up not related to Eddie.
I also feel like a few people just ruined it for everyone. The ones that crossed boundaries, did weird things, asked him weird questions (I remember at one con overhearing someone ask him “where do I apply to date you?” And that was just a normie, no one that I recognized from stan Twitter or anything like that.
I do feel like he’s tired of them, and ask anyone, I was defending the fact that he liked going to cons like my fucking life depended on it, lol. I just think he’s over it, and he might do them sporadically but I don’t think we’re going to get a ton like we used to. It’ll never be like London or New Orleans in terms of interactions again, tbh. And I don’t blame him one bit. I’ve stepped away from the fandom, but I still see what’s going on, and again… I don’t blame him. People at these events act weird (and I’m someone that loves them and will defend them forever). His fan base is bonkers as it is. I’m glad he’s moving away from Stranger Things and the absolutely problematic people associated with it, and it drives me absolutely nuts when people say he dropped out of the cons because he’s going to film THAT. He’s has such a blossoming career ahead of him. He’s over Eddie, and we should leave it be.
I’d also rather him not book any than end up cancelling, cause he’s lowkey developing a Christina Ricci reputation (she literally gets announced for every con ever and then ends up cancelling) 😅
I think this is beautifully put. I agree with you almost 100% on all of this. Also, do like that for some reason on this blog, this seems to be the people who aren’t actively in fandom, but are still paying attention, and still like the guy. And I like that because that’s exactly how we are.
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theblueflower05 · 10 months
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Hi !!!! So I’m still new to the whole male! omega X female! alpha because I do love myself some good old fashioned sexy male protector and haven’t really read that pairing yet (I do love yours though I’m HOOKED). I don’t want to characterize male! omegas as weak (I’m not well verse in A/B/O dynamics that aren’t purely sexual) but that’s what I’ve seen in other fandoms and writings. So, how does the “protector” role play out in a male! omega x female! Alpha relationship? How would each react to their s/o getting hurt—does an omega react differently from an alpha and vice versa?
I am such a huge fan of your work queen 🙏 HAPPY PRIDE 😛💓🏳️‍🌈
Hiiiiiiiiiii!
I love talking about the Omegaverse in Pandora, I get so excited when I see asks like these!
Like, let’s talk for hours about space and alien sexuality!
Okay so this might be long winded, but I’m going to like share the brain rot:
So a lil lowdown on Omega!Neteyam. He’s a hunter, a soldier, a warrior. There’s really nothing feminine or weak about him- and he’s constantly battling the stigma around his secondary gender.
Where his softness comes to play is in the way that he cares for his loved ones. He’s a caretaker at heart, when he was little he’s lowkey loved when one of his siblings or parents would get sick because it meant he could dote on them without the sideways look. He likes hovering, he likes being intellectually intimate, he likes domestic routines.
The Omega!Males in my story don’t carry their children. There will be no mpreg here(no shame to authors who go that route that’s just my personal preference)
The Alpha!Female!Reader will carry his children.
That’s heady for Neteyam. You’re the center of his universe. Their designations just make it more intense. They share not only Tsaheylu but the mating bite. They’re intertwined on like a whole other level(I’m crying because why can’t things like this be real. I wanna merge souls with my partner ugh)
Neteyam is extremely possessive and protective over you. Especially when he’s close to a heat or your close to rutting. He doesn’t want to share what’s his, after so long of denying himself the love and attention of an Alpha, he’ll be damned if anyone else thinks that they can vie for it.
He’s a large man. Tall and broad. And he’s cross trained- in Omiticayan, Metkayinan and Marine combat. He’s a fucking force to be reckoned with.
He’s usually pretty mild tempered but you? Someone fucking with you? He will lose it. He sees red.
Omg omg omg we don’t even need to get into what he’s like when you’re pregnant. He’s all over you. He’s fused to your side. He’s hissing at everyone- even your own father- if they get too close.
If anything idk. I think him being an Omega and the mating bite and the fact that he’s YOURS makes him so much more protective of over you.
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drgngutz · 11 months
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Cybernetic Soulmate - I
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BEN Drowned x Reader: Part 1
Soulmate AU – Implied Feminine Reader
Note: BEN is my favorite creepypasta, and lowkey I never see enough of him in the fandom. SO, I’m taking it upon myself to give this a try. Can’t promise it’ll be finished, but I’m having fun with it right now. If you’d rather read this on a website, ima post it on quotev and wattpad soon. Right now i’m vibin here. If you don’t like scary shit, this one might not be for u but we’ll see how it goes. Thanks for reading :) 
Description: Having the name Benjamin Lawman inscribed on your wrist until the age of 11, you had to live the rest of your life as one of the unlucky few who woke up one day with their soulmate mark crossed off. Devastated didn’t properly express the feeling of emptiness at the loss of connection between someone you had grown so close to. Ten long years have passed since then, but a new name has shown up just underneath the butchered one: BEN drowned. Soon enough you’ll figure out your old soulmate is now more demon than he is man. 
Masterlist
Benjamin Lawman 
BEN Drowned
The pads of your fingers swiped over the newly printed name on your wrist in absent-mindedness as you scrolled through page after page on the internet, causing subtle goosebumps to rise up on your skin as the bold letters brandished a light tingling with the friction. Old memories bumped around in your brain of producing the same feeling when the name you used to have was touched. 
It wasn’t feasible. It wasn’t something that had ever happened unless a soulmate had clinically died and been resuscitated within minutes. But over the span of ten years? Impossible. 
So why was this name here now? And why on earth was it different?
Returning to the old articles- the ones that you hadn’t looked at in years- yielded no results. 
‘Benjamin Lawman, aged 12, has been missing since around 6p.m. yesterday. Reports have mentioned he was wearing…”
‘It has been just over a month since the young boy, Benjamin Lawman, has gone missing. If you have seen anything in relation to his case…’
‘Benjamin Lawman declared deceased. “The search has gone on too long.” - Officer Hubris states…’
Hours and hours of looking at the same stupid newspaper clippings, public records, and news outlets was doing nothing besides digging up old memories that you didn’t want to relive. The times where Ben would talk to you, laugh with you, when you would play made up games with each other through the connection you both had created over a short time. He was always showing you his games on the console he had been gifted for his tenth birthday; you could still see the hazy image of a little boy with blonde hair swinging a sword at all kinds of different monsters, with Ben reciting each one of them as if he had memorized every detail of the game. You had talked to each other through the connection every day, and then he was just… gone. 
Exhausting your emotional and logical thinking, you ran your fingers through your hair before dragging your fingers down over your face to rid yourself of the stiffness. Glancing at the darkened letters on your wrist, you sighed in exasperation. Flopping the limb down onto your lap like a ragdoll, you traced the letters once more. It tingled again; that was the only grounding factor telling you that you weren’t dreaming all of this up. But, what kind of a name was BEN Drowned?
You swallowed thickly at the implication of both names showing up like that, how one replaced the other, and then opened up a new tab on your laptop. 
Immediately searching the name led you to a page on 4chan. Clicking on the site led to a very in depth and lengthy story, accompanied by multiple videos of a fucked up version of Ben’s favorite game, which took you about two whole hours to complete and understand. 
“...It already has proven to me that Ben can access my account/password and manipulate my computer, and like I said I have no idea to what extent it can do this, but know that it will do anything to break free. He is desperate. I’m going to do something, something rash that may not work. But, if it can keep everyone safe from him, I’m willing to try it. I’m going to make sure he stays in that fucking cartridge, so just forget about me, please…” 
It’s nearly dark out at this point, and your head is stuck spinning in place like a globe as you try to swallow the massive amount of information that you’ve been presented with. And still, none of it makes sense. But, really, did any of this? The newly branded name on your wrist certainly made no sense. Was it so odd that maybe there was something going on with this man, Jadusable, as well? And somehow it was all lining up together that this…thing shows up, and then its name shows up on your wrist just below where your old soulmate's name was crossed off, further implying that your soulmate was whatever BEN Drowned is. 
“Oh god. I need to go lay down.” 
Benjamin Lawman 
BEN Drowned
After the day that the name had appeared, you had been doing more research than you had ever bothered to do during your schooling. Each and every piece always led to the same two destinations; a declared dead little boy and a 4chan page that no longer had any active comments or replies from its author. 
You had since resorted to using the connection to try and make a breakthrough. 
The first time was difficult for you. Something that had laid dormant for so long felt… wrong. To try and open it again meant the possibility of connecting with someone who you’d assumed was gone forever. Now what? What if he answered? What if he didn’t answer? What if it wasn’t him?
It took a lot of thinking, and a lot more courage, to open up that connection again. 
Hands shaking, you clasped them together and closed your eyes, brows furrowing in concentration as you felt the familiar sensation flip like a switch in your brain. Clenching your teeth, you felt your eyes water beneath your eyelids as you let yourself fall away from your own consciousness for a moment, the familiarity nearly making you pull out of the sensation in discomfort. But, you pursued. You had never gotten this far, not after he disappeared. 
It was dark. That was the only way to explain it. Pitch black, with no source of light or sound to be observed. You dug a little deeper, trying to find the point of communication again… Only to be stopped. Confused, you tried to move forward again, only to be pushed back again. You tried over and over, poking and prodding at the connection, but to no avail. It was like something was specifically keeping you out; as if Ben didn’t want you to make a connection. 
You came back to your own consciousness with a start, eyes flashing open and feeling breathless as the connection dwindled and then faded away without your focus to keep it going. But, it was there. You had never been able to enter our connection like that before. Now, there was at least something.
It continued like this for the rest of the week; you trying to make a connection happen while something forced you away. But, you weren’t about to give up anytime soon. You were just as stubborn as Ben could be, pushing and pushing to no avail. You felt insane to be reaching out to somebody that was dead, somebody that wasn’t alive anymore, but you refused to give in. 
Then finally, it worked. 
You had gotten better at it the more you had practiced, gotten used to the familiar feeling that was at first melancholic; this time, you entered without bothering to close your eyes. Apparently, he had his guard down. 
A box shaped view, bordered in complete darkness. The light that peered in did nothing to illuminate the surrounding area; the light was coming from a window. Your window. You recognized it as the one in your living room that overlooked the couch opposite of the TV. And there you were, sitting straight, a focused look on your face as you stared at the wall, as you had done time and time again over the past few weeks. You watched yourself flick your eyes up to the TV in astonishment–
You were slammed out of the connection so hard that it sprouted a headache at the front of your forehead, and you flung your hand upwards in order to cater to the sudden feeling. Debilitated, you groaned tearfully before you could open your eyes again, blinking away the sting and glancing up at the TV. 
Stop trying.
The words were written in white, in a small text box at the bottom of the screen. You were only able to read it once before they disappeared as quickly as you had seen them. 
“What… What the fuck?” 
Benjamin Lawman 
BEN Drowned
He’s been watching her for a while now, observing, debating, keeping her annoying attempts at contacting him at bay; she was relentless in that particular field. 
Soulmates had always existed on this earth, apparently. And, although the fragmented memories of the soul he had ‘borrowed’ managed to save them from being imprisoned again via this aggravating connection, he wanted nothing to do with her. 
He was called many names; demon, ghost, vengeful spirit, poltergeist, cybernetic entity – Something born from a mixture of code and the aftermath of an abominable act – so they were not entirely wrong, but they were never right, either. Regardless, they were right about one thing. He had no room for care, or sympathy, or love. Not anymore. It was not programmed, not a part of his ideals. 
That was what he assumed, until the annoying little prick that he chose to resuscitate from that watery grave started to rekindle the connection he had before, when he was alive. The little bits of his host that still existed within him now crawled and zapped within the numbers, disagreeing with how he was treating the girl. He assumed this was some form of rebellion from the kid, and it was affecting them a lot worse than he understood. 
They weren’t supposed to feel the way he was toward this human, he wasn’t capable of having emotion at all. It wasn’t possible. And yet, here he was, watching her from the screen of the television that they had been trapped in ever since Ben’s last ditch effort at escape; it had worked, they were out of the cartridge, but they were missing pieces. That made the effort useless. 
Perhaps he should’ve chosen a better host for ascension. 
Benjamin Lawman 
BEN Drowned
WHAM!
You jolted awake at the loudness of the sound, feeling it reverberate through the ground and walls with the force of it. Sitting upright, you stayed still as a statue and listened closely, in the case that you had dreamt the sound. 
“Shit.” A voice whispered harshly against the silence, raspy and low. 
“We- We gotta make this quick. Hurry up,” Foot steps followed the higher pitched voice heading down the hallway. 
Swiftly, you ripped the covers off and dove for the closet, being as silent as possible as you settled below the hanging clothes and behind a hamper of dirty ones, trying to ease your breath and keep calm. Soon after, the two men barge into the bedroom and begin scouring your drawers. 
Addicts, you assumed. That was the likely situation, given your shitty location and even shittier apartment, they frequented the area and often ended up breaking into places that they figured were either abandoned or no one was home. A few of her neighbors had some close calls, while a few others were not so lucky. Flashes of ambulances and white sheets came to your mind, and you pushed them away, instead listening to the two of them argue in some kind of whacked-out dispute. 
“There’s no money, no jewelry; where the fuck is it all?” The first one started, slamming the drawer so loud the whole cabinet stuttered against the wall. 
“M-Maybe we got the wrong number,” The other replied, dumping something onto the floor, “is it the wrong apartment?” 
“If it is, we’re fucked. C’mon,” The two pairs of footsteps went further down the hall toward the kitchen, and you sighed gratefully. 
Hearing them rummage through the kitchen drawers now, you felt your heart beating in your veins as you slowly opened up the closet door and peered around. The room was empty, and you could hear them starting another argument about something else. Now was the time to move before they could come back and check the closet; there was no point in waiting like a sitting duck. 
Just as you were starting to silently make your way down the hallway and towards the front door, in the process realizing that they had burst the damn thing open in order to get inside, you heard the shuffle of footsteps in the kitchen begin to grow closer. Your blood ran cold, mind running wildly at the possibility of what would happen if they saw you. 
Wordlessly, you bolted to the living room, relying completely on instinct as you locked your eyes onto the black screen of the TV. You hesitated a second, debating if hiding somewhere would be a better option, but a quick glance around the room told you there wouldn’t be a place for you to do so. They were getting closer, the scuffing of their boots on the tile spurred you forward. 
“I am so fucking crazy for this…” You whispered, eyes flickering all over the screen as you gripped its edge in a vice. Fuck it.
“If you’re in there,” You took a deep breath, faltering out of fear, “I need help. Please, some men broke into my house and–” 
“Did you hear that?” You nearly stopped breathing from how close they were now. 
“Yeah, came from that room, there.” Hurried, heavy steps started toward the rooms entrance. 
“Shit.” You turned and gazed desperately at the screen, no response. 
“God damn you,” Frustrated, you began to scream and bang at its dark surface with your fists, “Fucking answer me!” 
“The hell’s wrong with you?” The two men had finally made it into the room, just staring at you as your slammed your fists repeatedly against the TV. One of them, a smaller, scruffy looking man, looked confused and concerned. The other, much taller and larger, looked pissed off. 
“What does that matter?” The bigger one began to advance, and right before he pushed you to the floor, you saw the screen light up. Hissing at the sting of the impact, you glanced behind the man towards the now lit-up screen.
Fine.
“Tell us where you’re keeping all of your shit. Now.” His harsh tone made you flinch, feeling spit hit your face as he loomed over you.
“I-I… I don’t have anything. I swear… I don’t have–” You stuttered, but couldn’t complete the sentence in time. 
SMACK!
The burning of your cheek registered before you realized what had happened, feeling tears fall down your face at the shock of the pain. You heard something clicking against itself, the harsh noise berating your ears and making you look back at him before freezing in place. 
“Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re hiding something, I know you are. Hand it over!” You’re left staring down the barrel of a hand gun as he shouts at you, and if you weren’t crying before, you definitely are now. 
“Hey… Hey Jim.” The soft voice of the other man interrupts the exchange, and the angry man, Jim, nearly blows a fuse. 
“Something’s wrong, man.” 
“What the hell are you on about now, Mike?” With a rage in his eyes, he turned around, the gun turned safely away from your face. Before he could say anything else, however, he stilled. 
You peered up at the screen, where they were both looking, as you trembled at the prospect of being shot. 
You shouldn’t have done that. 
“What the hell? This some kinda game?” 
You wish it was.
“Jim, lets go.” Mike practically begs his friend, inching towards the door. 
“There’s somebody else here. They’re probably watchin’ us, right now.” His voice trembles at the thought. 
“Don’t be such a pussy,” Jim spits, angry at the idea; “I’m talking to you too, creep! Come out and show yourself instead of hiding behind a fucking screen.” 
If you say so. 
There’s a moment where the screen goes dark, before another message pops up on screen. 
Close your eyes.
You obey the message without a word, clenching them as tight as you possibly can. Then, you hear the front door slam shut, despite it being broken off of it’s hinges before. 
“What the fuck was–” Jim’s words are cut off by his own strangled screams. Something drops to the ground with a clatter, shortly followed by Mike’s shrill screams that fade as he moves towards the front of the apartment. He begins to plead for something to open as something begins to snap and pop in the living room. You flinch at each noise, nearly sobbing as the man’s screams from in front of you are reduced to garbled grunts and groans, before he goes silent with one final crunch. 
Mike’s murmured ‘no, no, no’ can be heard from he hallway as he slams rhythmically against something over and over. The words are chased by his own screams that echo one final time before it’s swiftly cut short, only to be replaced by a deafening silence that leaves your heart beat thrumming in your ears. Ragged breaths help to filter out the lack of sound as you stay glued in place, not daring to open your eyes. 
A moment passes, then another; What feels like a few minutes go by before you hear anything else. 
“You can open them now.” Your eyes snap open at the almost robotic tone that instinctively feels familiar. 
A quick sweep around the room showed that there was nobody there; in fact, there was no sign that they had ever been there in the first place. The only thing that was different was the TV, which was still lit up, the same words that were spoken to you depicted in white letters in the textbox. 
You can open them now.
The screen dropped to black, and then lit up again. 
All done. You’re welcome. 
The screen went dark for the final time that night, and all that was left was the silence. 
Next Part
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jack-kellys · 1 year
Note
west end question: i obviously love my brooklyn girls and would die for them all, but is it bad that it’s taken away the sprace dynamic for me? like i’m still 100% on board with a nowhere near canon ship and it shouldn’t affect me they’ve decided to have spot be a girl, but it lowkey has? and i feel kinda guilty about it? idk i love my proshot boys. but i am 100% here for all the uk newsies cast they are amazing and so talented and it’s definitely my favourite production by far!! idk if i’m making sense
ok part of me feels a litle baited actually because like. i feel like... im vocal abt mlm musical sprace not being a big vibe for me in the first place. so im a funny person to ask if you were looking for relief lmao. anyway here's my thesis below.
wait also if ur a white newsie fan a read-thru+rb of this would be much appreciated thank youuu (also yall have been eating up my character analyses anyway sooooo!)
TL;DR THESIS: if you're feeling genuinely let down that your ship did not see the light of day and a black girlsie spot conlon got to instead, then yes, you should reevaluate that.
followers, if you've been with me long enough, you know that i have quite strong opinions about how this show gets treated when it comes to interpretations and fandom/fanon. mostly, this is because i literally work in theater, and it's extremely backwards in my brain personally when shows get treated more like a movie or tv show than a performance piece.
im also one of the only ppl in this fandom that ever seems to dare speak on race (not the damn character smh). and anon, buddy, kiddo, this does have to do with race, gender, and sexuality.
firstly, what i think needs to be understood about newsies, is that it is theater, which means it is meant to be mutable. there is no one way. there should never be one way. it does not exist. secondly, theater does not exist in a fandom vacuum. its live every night, conceptually. theater is a live performance art.
interpretations change- it's the nature of theater. so i think asks like these really do illuminate the difference between fans of the show's content or fans of... i guess the show's culture's content.
this is a culture content ask.
one thing i really, truly, deeply need you all to understand: from an objective, script- and staging-based perspective, proshot sprace does not exist. they do not speak. they barely see each other. race does not even volunteer to go to brooklyn. the ship originates from the 1992 movie, where they do actually interact, which is why the ship has prevailed through the 90s to today. they're from the movie, not the musical.
of course, this doesn't bash the ship- it has history, and naturally fans want to create new history when they get a new source material (the musical). it's true for like every newsie ship lowkey (but also not lowkey because all the manhattan newsies do interact and sprace literally does not but thats a different post!!), which is something i do admire about the fandom- we do a lot of our own legwork here, we invent relationships and backgrounds from one-liners that could be given to tbh any frickin newsie. i respect the 30 years we have invented ships.
however.
when a huge, publicized, consistently sold out production comes along with spot conlon as not only a woman, but a woman of color (specifically black rn!) as the leader of the most feared group on stage, there becomes something much more important than a "sprace dynamic", which does not canonically exist in the musical anyway bro. you can't miss something that isn't there imo. often the story and casting within a story comes first, and goddamn if this isn't one of those times. lillie-pearl's spot brings bravado, swagger, confidence, and intimidation that is literally....fine maybe i'm being personal but it is slash gen incredible to see in technically a period piece! a black woman in leadership with that kind of assuredness! in such a popular musical! how is that not– automatically surpassing an often obsessed-over (yes i am. hinting at something here, straight girl fans) mlm ship?
and while i'm on the topic of the over-obsessiveness of mlm musical sprace, let me talk about uksies sprace. because what's also wack abt this ask is that sprace is not a hopeless case in this production- it literally has about as much 'evidence' as the proshot imo!!!!!
i got to hop over to 2nd row brooklyn seating for act 2 so i saw once and for all really close up, right. there's a moment when race is upstage letting the newsies in/down from the stairs. spot comes down and she does, in fact, share a look with him. race gives spot a nod and she keeps moving.
and like im gonna see the show again (every day i am counting my mf blessings fr), so if i'm wrong or they don't do it every time i'll correct myself, but that's what i saw with my own dang eyes on saturday. they do acknowledge each other in uksies.
and since they do, i really like. i have to ask. what is bothersome/unpopular abt uksies sprace, other than oh idk.... its not white/white mlm with a twink/manly bf trope? why can't race still love who spot is as a character, this strong and fearless ruler of brooklyn, in uksies? because tbh josh's racer...nahhhh because. this is such a side note now but they'd be so good together oh jesus am i gonna ship uk sprace. and it's not like they're 'taking away' from a queer ship because a) you can headcanon spot as a queer girl and race being trans is consistently popular and b) newsies has ten billion gayass ships bro we've been eatin for literal decades.
anon, i'm sure you didn't mean harm by this ask. i'm sure, honestly, that a lot of fans are feeling the same way as you and weren't quite sure how to put it in words. but, i'm also not surprised you sent an ask like this on anonymous specifically.
should you feel guilty about it? i don't think guilt is the right word. but i believe you should think more about how newsies is not.....static. it does not exist in one form, and it never will. if you're feeling genuinely let down that your ship did not see the light of day and a black girlsie spot conlon got to instead, then yes, you should reevaluate that. in theater, you should always question why something impacted you the way it did- a major point of theater is to discuss and think about it when you leave! i know this because ive spent three years literally studying it, to back up my thesis credentials.
thank you for reading this, newsies fandom. i do honestly say all this with love, and i hope it made u think !! ♥️
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₊°✧︡˗ˏˋ❤ˎˊ˗ 𝖩𝖺𝗇𝗎𝖺𝗋𝗒 ₊°✧︡˗ˏˋ❤ˎˊ˗
I hope everyone has had an amazing start to the new year, I know it can be tough and January lowkey sucks but it will get better! 2022 for me was a long year of recovery and somehow I'm kinda clean (although I still don't know how to feel about it, especially when people comment on how much 'better' I'm doing but I'm taking it a day at a time.) Anyways, I kinda feel like 2023 might be a good-ish year so I hope it is for you too <3
ps. I know this list is early but I'm like a toddler who gets to excited to wait for anything and ruins it, so here is the early but one of my favourite rec lists to make. (idk why but it was particularly fun this month lol)
this year I'm also gonna try putting out some decent content starting with my fics (available here). I'm currently only writing for Steve and Eddie from Stranger things but in the future I may try writing for other fandoms (the Xavier Thorpe fic was a self indulgent piece idk if I'll carry on writing for him though), I'd really appreciate anyone to give feedback and reblog cause it keeps me motivated (pls I'm actually begging for some attention lmao my last two fics have got like zero attention and I genuinely don't know if I'm a shit writer or something else lmao, pls even if you hate it lmk! I'll take anything atp).
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anyways... ignore my rambles as always, the last piece of news im sharing is my new series I'm starting soon! where I'll be diving into the history of metal and what it means to the community etc so if thats something you'd be interested in you are more than welcome to join the army of maggots I've got going on (I say an army but I'm pretty sure it's just me lol).
[please respect writers terms, I am not responsible for what kind of content you consume but please be aware that minors will be blocked if they chose to interact with 18+ content.]
more fic recommendations available here
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚。˚ ⋆ -- 𝖲𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗈𝗇 -- ⋆ ˚。⋆˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
The mixtape detectives by @babyrunsforfanfic
Want me like I want you by @beezywriting
Under the covers by @stevesbabysittingservice
Hey Steven by @munsonsreputation
If you loved me (why’d you leave me?) by @1986harrington
When we are together by @foreverromanticising
I’m never going to dance again, the way I danced with you by @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone
Love as sweet as honey (and lover I’m hungry) by @stevebabey
Time after time by @musingginger
Sharing secrets by @livingintheupsidedown
A virtual romance (new series!) by @justmeinadaze
Tis the damn season (series!) by @katyswrites
Bad at love by @loveshotzz
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚。˚ ⋆ -- 𝖤𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝖬𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗇 -- ⋆ ˚。⋆˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
Need you tonight by @sebuckyverse
Flipped by @ashwhowrites
Bottom of the bottle by @fanficsgal0re
New sensation by @darkdarkroom
Fooled round & fell in love (series!) by @bimbobaggins69
Lavander haze by @munsonsreputation
I think I’ve loved you forever by @cinemaquinn
Something new by @newlips
In the middle of nowhere (ongoing series!) by @sweetpeapod
Mine and yours by @muertawrites
Morning coffee by @jamdoughnutmagician
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚。˚ ⋆ -- 𝖡𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗌 -- ⋆ ˚。⋆˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
Side effect by @delaber
cherry blossom by @buckycuddlebuddy
Everyone’s watching him (but he’s looking at her) @writing-for-marvel
Shouldn’t have gone by @imyourbratzdoll
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚。˚ ⋆ -- 𝖫𝗈𝗄𝗂 𝖫𝖺𝗎𝖿𝖾𝗒𝗌𝗈𝗇 -- ⋆ ˚。⋆˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
Chocolate & promises by @michelleleewise
lost prince (ongoing series!) by @xxntiimulti
For better or for worse (ongoing series!) by @wheredafandomat
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚。˚ ⋆ -- 𝖷𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗉𝖾 -- ⋆ ˚。⋆˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
Flower power by @pythonees
Siren song by @wintervalewritersecond
Rumors by @yourmidnightlover
Kiss me and shut up by @elysianrogers
Invisible string by @mntalbrakdown
Foxglove to adorne thy dells (ongoing series!) by @nevermoremagic
Something that we’re not by @profound-imagination
Artists collide by @shesluxurious
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚。˚ ⋆ -- 𝖱𝖺𝖿𝖾 𝖢𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗈𝗇 -- ⋆ ˚。⋆˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
So gorgeous it actually hurts by @folkloreslovechild
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cursedvibes · 2 months
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I’m glad that leak culture will hopefully die down but I hope that fan translator groups will pull through! They should just go back to posting a day after the official releases, and people really need to learn to be quiet about fan translator groups because the whole reason this situation got so big is because people literally treated leaks as if they were the Super Bowl.
Unfortunately, I don't think much will change about leak culture, since Mya is still intend on posting leaks, just a day later than usual. There is a new wave of criticism for leaks going around, but once the leaks are out, I doubt it will have much of an impact.
Thankfully, TCB have also said that they will continue to translate chapters, but they will come out later than usual or on Friday again. As long as they stay around, I honestly don't care when they post. Can't leave the jjk fandom alone with John Werry. I'm honestly surprised that opscans was the in focus of the Japanese police and not TCB because TCB seem far more popular from my impression, but it might be different from the perspective of the One Piece fandom and ops have posted earlier as well.
The fantranslations always were a lot more lowkey too, unlike the leaks. They'd come out, people would read them, talk about them, maybe post some images, but none of the translators have a cult following like the leakers do. Which is funny because they are doing the actual work of putting out HQ raws and translating the chapter, not just post them on twitter.
Mya and the guy with the rooster head were the first to really drum up the hype to get followers and it all kinda developed from there. From what I know, other fandoms like mha have their colourful personalities too. And that is all very purposeful, since I very often hear that people read the leaks exactly because they see it as this community event like watching a football game. That anticipation, the short translations, pages being posted one after the other (or out of order when the rooster guy was still around) made it into this bombastic event. That is very hard to miss if you are somehow in the fandom and especially on twt. Leaks have been around for a while, but used to be more quiet because they were harder to access and nobody made an effort to build a community around that. They used to be not very different from fantranslations, only less accessible. And I doubt it will quiet down again unless Mya quits or changes the way he posts leaks (like only quietly posting the full leaks with the quick translations e.g.).
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freyjas-musings · 2 months
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In regards to the influencer post about getting hate: forreal, this is the first book release that I’ve been a part of the fandom for and the behavior of some people really ruins the experience.
So many hateful comments, unnecessarily starting fights with strangers on both Instagram and TikTok (and I’m lowkey pissed bc the Today Show is intentionally feeding the arguments to boost their posts)
And people can claim it’s Gwynriels all they want but the ONLY hateful comments I can find are E/riels. I wish Sarah wouldn’t bait people to start arguments (girl knows what she’s doing in those interviews) but I’m a little heartbroken because I got into these books because they gave me hope and I thought others felt the same.
Attacking people on Instagram, tumblr, and TikTok just because they ship differently than you is CRAZY. And the hate towards Gwyn is sad, she’s objectively a wonderful character😅
I hope SJM sees the hate E/riels spew.
All of what you said Anon is pretty spot on with how I feel too. Bullying is never ok and what makes the entire case with the influencer terrible is that the girl literally has nothing to do with the fandom or the ship war so these lunatics could have left her alone. As far as SJM knowing I am sure she does especially given her best friend has been harassed by Elriels.
She does look like a nerdy modern Gwyn!!!
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With the Today Show interviews , to be fair literally nothing changed in terms of what we already know. It still made it pretty obvious it is Azriels book and that he does mostly have a mate, here is the key thing people miss.... Elucien's bond being accepted or rejected has nothing to do with Gwynriel.... Az wants a mate and if that mate is Gwyn they are endgame simple as that ....
If it was Elains book Lucien would have been mentioned in some capacity but that never happened , it was Elain and Gwyn with Az as the focus thereby further proving it is Azriels book . We also know Azriels feelings for Elain were never really deep. So, I have no doubt that Gwynriel is end game , how can anyone refute Canon info?
The hate towards both Elain and Gwyn is unnecessary. I am not a fan of Elain but I would never relentlessly make shit posts about her. She is not a character I prefer and indifference is as far as I would go.
Yes, I am disappointed that the interview did fuel the ship war , we all beat our chest and spill our hearts when two fictional females are being put against each other.... Yet here we now have two groups of real young women who have been pit against each other , it goes against everything I believe in, this fandom has basically fostered the most unhealthy environment of women pulling other women down... We are never going to win the battle with Feminism aka equality if we keep being each others enemies instead of atleast tolerating one another enough to grant dignity and respect ... and I was upset for all sides and this the truth....
These are young impressionable women and the publisher is most certainly taking advantage of the passion they have .... If the book is only a year away like they claim they could have just said whose book is next so people had time to process and get on board. Would the publisher have kept the news on who the book is about if it wasn't for the ship war? I think we all know the answer to that.
I am sorry this has been your first experience with the fandom and while I understand it's been hard I would request you to hang in there because there is a wonderful side to this fandom too, one that you will see during events , with friends and we are also officially entering the ACOTAR Era and its going to be exciting 🤗
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freneticfloetry · 5 months
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Will I ever get enough of these? No? Thanks to @liminalmemories21, @strandnreyes, @welcometololaland, and @reyesstrand for the tags!
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
45. RIP to the lost works of my OG fandom, published on a ship board/archive that no longer exists. (I still have most of them, they just won’t be seeing the light of day. Like ever.)
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
368,184. (Again, RIP to all those now-unpublished words — with them I’d be somewhere around 800k.)
3. What fandoms do you write for?
LOL So glad this question is phrased the way it is. Right now, I’m only actively writing in 911 Lone Star fandom, though I have a WIP in Magicians fandom that I fully intend to finish. Historically, I’ve written in about 40 fandoms (36 on AO3), most with a single fic. Thanks, Yuletide!
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Ashes and Flame (Every You and Every Me), The Hunger Games Trilogy (I get a kudos email for this one at least five times a week. How are people still finding and reading this little fic?)
Lost in Translation, The Losers
Deck the Halls with Daddy Issues, pre-film Avengers MCU
Big Girl Pants, New Girl
Shells of a Long-Ago Lifetime (Faces That Once Were Mine Mix), Supernatural
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
99.9% of the time, absolutely. Comments are my biggest motivation — the serotonin section fuels my muse. If people take the time to tell me they read and enjoyed a fic (especially if they tell me why), I like to at least thank them for that. There have been times when Real Life has been Happening A Lot and comments on the more popular stuff have gotten by me, and I feel weird about going back months after the fact to respond — that Hunger Games fic, for instance, has a couple pages of unanswered comments.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Posted, probably Of All Our Yesterdays. I am typically an Angst with a Happy Ending writer without fail, but the boys of the Black Dagger Brotherhood don’t do typical happy, and Phury is lowkey the angstiest of the bunch.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
I’m actually gonna say scenes from an unfinished story, because I think Quentin Coldwater having this happy ending, the way this one happens, is the biggest fuck you to show canon and its creators that I could possibly craft.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
I recently got my first hate comment! I posted about it, but I’ve also left it up in all its glory.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I do now! Not that I haven’t in the past — I wrote several het scenes for my very first ship, and Quentin and Eliot had some delightful married kitchen sex we picked up right in the middle in What Baking Can Do — but I feel like Tarlos has really helped me unleash my inner smut writer. My smut from Carlos’ POV has a lot of feelings (LOL), but the stuff I’m writing from TK’s POV is a little sillier and dirtier and more fun. With feelings.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I do love me a good crossover. Outside of canons I’ve crossed that exist in the same universe (We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For, in Jessica Jones/Luke Cage fandom, plus And to All a Goodnight, for two Jennifer Crusie books), I once wrote tens of thousands of words of a ridiculously plot-heavy Roswell/Angel crossover that will forever hold a soft spot in my heart, a randomly cracky and super angsty Supernatural/Grey’s Anatomy, and a minor character-focused Supernatural/Sarah Connor Chronicles, Requiem, that I still sort of love a lot.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
That Hunger Games fic has been swiped a few times. Weird.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Again, the Hunger Games fic — it exists somewhere on the internet in Dutch. And that one, the SPN/TSCC crossover, and an old Dexter fic, Dinner and a Show, have been podficed.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I have! An old friend and I once cowrote ~25k of our idea of fluff, which was basically hijinks, smut, and torturing our leading man with a boom box and Billy Joel.
14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
For ships that I’ve written… Hmm. I think, before I wrote to build a home, I would’ve said it was a tossup between Tarlos, Queliot, Chlollie, and Jules/Robin from Troubleshooters, but now there’s just no contest. Weewoo Husbands for the win. For ships in general, Tarlos still tops the list, alongside the ones I mentioned, the OT3 (Eliot/Hardison/Parker), Arthur/Eames, Phedre/Joscelin from the Kushiel’s Legacy books, Frank/Karen from the Netflix Marvelverse, Aidan/Sally from Being Human US, and my MCU crack cube of Steve/Nat/Bucky/Sam.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
God, this is such a throwback, but it’s probably Adagio in B-Flat, the Sherlock music porn murder mystery I half wrote and got hopelessly blocked on.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Dialogue, I’d say, especially banter. And understanding characters, I guess? I’m good at making characters sound like themselves, whether they’re speaking or internalizing. And, I’m now proud to say, plot. That’s something I wouldn’t have dared to claim this time ten years ago.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Oof. Brevity. I have completely lost the ability to write short (and, by extension, to the point). I’m also the slowest writer in the world, thanks to my tendency to edit every sentence within an inch of its life.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
My Lone Star mutuals are laughing right now. Clearly I hate it. 😊 I’ve written three fics that feature Spanish, two sort of significantly, and all my old Firefly fics have some Mandarin in there somewhere.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
OG Roswell. So much OG Roswell. Michael/Liz, specifically, with a side of Kyle/Isabel.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
It almost feels like cheating, since it’s my most recent fic (and the only one I’ve published so far in my current fandom), but I’m so stupidly proud of to build a home. Carlos is such a touchstone character for me that writing him was oddly therapeutic. And I think I’ve said this before, but writing the two of them together was like the evolution of the clarity I found writing Queliot, which was the first time I’d really explored a ship in fic where I loved both halves of the pairing even close to equally — it helped me unearth my Carlos and who he is in my heart, but it also helped me uncover the true depth of my love for TK.
No pressure tagging @orchidscript, @heartstringsduet, @never-blooms, @rmd-writes, @walkinginland, @paperstorm, @mixtapestar, @catanisspicy, and @alrightbuckaroo!
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virginiaisforvampires · 9 months
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Hello!! I hope you're doing well (:
So, i'm not new to the vampire chronicles at all, but i am new-ish to the fandom, and one thing i've noticed is there seems to be a general dislike of David Talbot? And to be completely honest with you I don't understand why lol. I mean, do I think he's the most compelling/interesting character of the chronicles? Nooo (and I personally really like David), but still I don't know where this dislike/lowkey-hate comes from and I thought you might be able to give me some answers/your opinion?
Hey! I’m doing well! 💙💕
I can’t speak for everyone, but for me and what I’ve heard from others, he’s disliked mostly because Anne wanted to replace Louis with him. 😬
For another, he exhibits icky traits. He openly lusts on youngsters, he’s dismissive of Louis’ depression and believes it’s something he can just get over, and he’s also a jerk who thinks he knows everything. In Merrick, he basically tells Louis that Lestat will probably never wake up from the coma, and that pushes Louis over the edge. He knows Louis is contemplating suicide, he knows Louis is essentially saying goodbye to Lestat, and he just lets it happen. I’ve just always felt he was unnecessary, especially after TOTBT, and he should’ve stayed in the background. 😆
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