#supposedly everyone will be coming and going and i will not have Anyone consistent in my life unless/until i get married

[gorejo]

▸ A SOUVENIR FOR THE MORNING - GOJO SATORU. - forbes gojo!au

synopsis: you’ve avoided him for the last eight years, only for him to pop back into your life, leaving you with no room to run away as he asks you to kiss him. catch is, he now has a golden ring on his promise finger.

content: 9.2k words (idk how this happened, and it's unedited bc it's too long to go through) afab!reader, she/her pronouns, cursing, explicit smut, light angst, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, and anxiety triggers (picking at nails), pet names (baby, sweetheart, love, angel, good girl). minors do not interact.

The room is packed with people when you walk in. It was hard to recall some faces from the mirage of dimmed lights making you feel mildly dizzy and it didn’t help how the buzzing in your head from the smell of champagne and the loud chatter from the already drunk almost thirty-year-olds that can’t seem to contain their liquor-like novices, made you want to go home increasingly more.

“It’s only 9:41, and they’re drinking like they’ve never tasted alcohol before,” you heard Shoko mumble as she searched through her purse to reach for her perfume, “you want some?” Your best friend offered with a smile as she looked at you through the bathroom mirror. 

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “can’t have all the boys following me around with that,” you teased.

Shaking her head in disapproval, “If you see me go home with any of these drunks, I give you full permission to hit me, no, in fact, I’ll pull up to your apartment every morning with coffee and take you to work for a week if I do,” Shoko shuddered while furrowing her brows only to quickly soften the moment she saw you lightly picking at your thumb – an anxious habit you’ve picked up throughout the years, only but the keenest of eyes being able to notice your anxiety.

“You okay love?” Her voice was sweet as she leaned against the restroom sink.

“Mhm, of course,” you faked a smile, “I guess I’m just a little nervous seeing everyone, you know,” lightly chuckling as you bit your lips. Little was underlying, when the knot in your stomach was building up, making you force down the urge to entirely vomit in the moment. 

“People are thrilled to see you again,” placing her hand on your shoulder, “it’s literally been years for you,” she huffed, pouting as she reminisced over the years she attended alone.  

“well ‘m sure one will be sure thrilled —” her voice suddenly drained from a crowd of people entering the restroom, slightly pushing you towards her, “nevermind come on, let’s go get something to drink,” Shoko muttered as she led you out, gently massaging your tense neck as she encouraged, bringing her lips to your ears, “if anyone bites, I’ll chop their dick off,” Shoko threatened with a flashing smile as she led you to a nearby table.  

It’s only 9:41 — no, 9:42.

College reunions, who looks forward to that? 

There was no particular reason for you to be anxious, it’s been years since. You’ve prepared yourself for this, meditating every single day since you got the notification in your email on a Tuesday evening — an invite to rsvp for a room at the Aman Hotel. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking if you’ve been consistently going out to these every year since they’ve held one. But every year there seems to be a conflict in the schedule that forbade you to go.

One year it was your boss last-minute asking your team to work overtime, when a rookie employee lost all the data when he supposedly fell asleep, accidentally losing months of all your blood, sweat, and tears to make it for the deadline on your next advertising project. 

Poor kid was fired the next day.

The following year, you were determined to go, going as far as walking to the restaurant, when the sudden nausea of socializing plagued your mind. The joyous welcomings and celebrations annoyingly muffled in your ear as you groaned past a familiar voice that seemed to call out your name from a distance. Your feet walking on their own volition through your sleep deprivation. Only to wake up in your bed with countless text messages from your best friend asking what the hell happened. 

No wonder it was so fucking loud that night. 

Another was simple, not your fault this time. Shoko couldn’t make it because of her rounds at the hospital. 

Never in hell were you going to show up alone. 

And the last one, well your taxi got a sudden flat tire. That in itself was a confirmation for you not to go, nor did you have any dying wish to go. Quickly texting your best friend, huffing out a sigh of relief as you pressed send.

&lt;< sorry… can’t make it tonight. I promise, next year!! 

Today, well things seemed to have aligned. No overtime, no flat tires, no sleep deprivation, no nothing.

Maybe it was an excuse? 

Maybe you were subconsciously avoiding it? 

But ironic is it, that life seems to protect you when most fragile, only to push you out into the void when least expected making you feel even more vulnerable, feeling so exposed in such a cruel world. 

Or maybe the universe was waiting for this moment, that despite your consensus or approval, it was determined that you were ready to confront it — well it, being the owner of a pair of brilliant light blue eyes that sparkled like an aqua jewel, shining brighter than when you’ve last seen them clouded in tears as you let go of his trembling hand for the last time, crushing his pure heart as you left him with, “i’m sorry.”

Was that already eight years ago? 

But whether it was the consequence of your selfish choice or a blessing of choosing to be selfless, luck was on your side today…

… well, you hoped at least somewhat on your side.

“My … look who it is,” you heard a voice from behind you.

Turning around, though the shame of suddenly cutting him off enticed your heart as you faced him, you couldn’t help but smile at his familiar face walking over with two drinks in his hand.

Holding the same gentle eye smile, with a lock of his black hair falling down on his left side, donned in a white dress shirt with his sleeves cuffed at the elbows, no tie but buttons loosely opened with a pair of dark slacks and shined dress shoes. Geto Suguru walked over.

“Aren’t you still handsome,” you complimented with a sweet smile.

“Don’t feed into his ego like that,” Shoko chimed as she nudged your arm, “his head is already big enough.”

“Who me?” Exaggerating his response, only to soon level down to the same amiable smile, calm cadence you’ve remembered him to have as he offered you a drink, “I have to take all the compliment I can get, don’t know when you’ll go awol and go missing for another eight years.”

“Funny…” you muttered, rolling your eyes while taking the drink by the stem, “and thank you, Suguru.”

“Where’s mine?” Shoko jabbed while shooting a glare at his nonchalance.

“Not here,” Geto flashed a smile, innocently shrugging. 

“Whatever, I’ll get my own,” shaking her head in disapproval, grumbling while making her way to get a drink, but still making a point to stop in front of the man to warn, “Don’t say anything weird Suguru, I barely got her to come today.”

“Relax, ‘m just trying to catch up with an old friend,” Geto countered, making a point to whisper while smiling at you.

“I won't hurt her, that I promise,” Geto affirmed. 

Your best friend walked off only to turn around for a brief moment as she worriedly looked back at you “Text me for anything okay?” 

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry,” you reassured.

“And don’t forget what I said, I’ll even cut his,” deadpanning while looking at your male counterpart, “I got no problem doing it, I’m medically certified anyways, there’s nothing that a sharp scalpel can’t fix, ” Shoko stated with an innocent smile while walking off. 

“So,” releasing a sigh as he pushed the strains of his hair back, “how’ve you been?” Geto smiled.

“I’ve been… okay,” you confessed while placing your lips against your glass before taking a sip, “could be better.”

“Thought you were living your life,” Geto teased, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Shoko wouldn’t tell us much about you.”

“I… I told her not to,” you confessed while leaning against your table, the pain of your heels starting to ache up your back. 

“How come? Weren’t we your friends too?” 

“I just didn’t think it was best to keep myself in the circle when I —” biting the inside of your mouth to stuff the suffocating knot forming underneath your lungs.

“ — When you broke up with him?” Geto finished your hesitation.

Nodding yes, you softly whispered, “I thought it was for the best for him.”

“For the best huh?” Geto chuckled, “well I guess you didn’t know him too well then.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed as your mouth started to feel dry, “I did it because we weren’t compatible, I would’ve been a stumbling block for him,” you stammered as your voice started to shake, “I- I would’ve halted his growth, and he would’ve hated me in the end if I selfishly held onto him when he was worth so much more than being with me,” you confessed with lips quivering as a tear fell, only to quickly brush it away before Suguru could notice.

But nothing passes with him, he reads right through you. His voice softened, “Was this your insecurity you’ve decided for him or — ” turning his body to face you while his body leaned on his arm against the standing table, “Was this something he actually would’ve struggled with?”

“I can’t change the past Suguru.” You shamefully avoided his gaze, “I still stand by my decision.”

“I don’t doubt that,” shrugging as he exhaled, “I mean, you did avoid him for almost a decade.”

“H-he seems happy,” you let your thoughts slip.

“You think so?” 

“Shoko would tell me about everyone, you, him” you unnoticingly spewed out your thoughts. “Of course not in full detail, but that you’ve established your own studio, and that you’ve finally released those photos.”

“Mhm, that’s correct, would’ve loved to have invited you to the exhibition, it was quite… a moment,” he chuckled while playing with his fingers. 

“That Megumi’s in high school and that he’s gotten in trouble for beating up the school bullies,” lowly laughing as you remembered how cute yet scarily mature he was for his age.

“Nanami hates corporate life, but still listens to what he has to say even if it’s outrageous.” Taking a sip of your drink, the sparkle of the beverage mildly burning your throat, “... and that he’s traveling the world living his life.”

Mumbling under your breath, “he’s even recently gone to Paris and had a night picnic with —”

“You stalked him?” Geto teased as he huffed out a laugh when he caught your shocked expression

“No — I mean, Shoko would tell me,” you stammered.

“Sure, whatever you say, sweetheart," Geto teased, "but just to let you know, he just got back. And from what I know, they haven’t met since he arrived. His plane should’ve landed,” while dramatically looking at his watch, “I don’t know like an hour ago? He’s probably on his way over here,” Geto handsomely winked as he suddenly placed a gentle hold of your waist and brought you near his side.

“You know… he’ll look for you, now knowing that you’re here” Geto whispered into your ear.

“How does he know… I told Shoko to not tell —”

Blinking innocently at you with a smile, while playing with his phone, “can’t avoid the poor guy forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you sighed knowing what Geto had done, “just didn’t have a chance to run into him.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” releasing you with a smile, “ if you’re really sure about where you stand, then don’t run away from him.”

Geto's eyes flash to the entrance doors for a split second and land back on you.

“But would you look at that,” humming as he pointed to his empty glass yet his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure. It was the first in a while that you felt your heart sinking, all the blood in your body rushing out, making you suddenly feel lifeless and queasy.

“Gonna get another glass, you want one?” Suguru suggested.

“I’m okay, but thank you Suguru,” you quickly stated as your heart started to beat faster by the second.

“Sure, just don’t be a stranger again,” Suguru teased as he started to walk off, but your hand immediately reached out to catch his arm to quickly reinforce, “I- I mean it… thank you.”

Knowing your implication, smiling as he received your thanks, “No need, as fucking cringe it is,” chuckling as he shook his head, looking over your shoulder and back at you, “he’s my best friend, of course, I’ll be there for him.”

Letting go of his arm, your hands anxiously balled into a fist as you quickly turned around to avoid him, doing anything to hide from his sight. You felt your breaths becoming increasingly more difficult to inhale, and stagnant as your palms started to sweat. 

“I’m not avoiding him… I’m not avoiding him” you quietly mumbled to yourself, your words contradicting your actions as you walked further away onto the balcony, texting Shoko, 

<< I’ll be outside getting some fresh air (: let me know when you want to leave.  

Closing your phone, as you let the night breeze wash against your face, leaving light chills around your body, you nervously sighed, “It’s been eight years you say…”

— 

Your story was nothing short of the typical — difference in class and status, trying to make things work just for the convenience of love. It wasn’t hard at first to situate yourself into his life, nor was it any difficult for him to become accustomed to yours. 

They say time will change things, circumstances will get better. Be patient with your season, and you’ll be rewarded for your hardwork.

But somethings never change no matter how hard you try to alter the dice. He’s rich and you’re just average.

Money works for him, while you had to take on multiple jobs just to make your next rent at the start of your career. 

He was bound for greatness at a young age, trained by the best professionals and tutored by an exquisite league of mentors. While you had to settle for things, simply dreaming of the what can be. Thus, you worked even harder. You pushed yourself to keep up, to become of the level of who he’s supposed to be, and what he could accomplish. 

When he dozed off in class, you stayed up. You studied, pulled all-nighters, chugged caffeine, and oftentimes had to push back dates with him for simple study sessions — he didn’t complain, said he liked to just sleep with his head rested on your lap while he cuddled into your stomach while you studied. 

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be your personal radiator,” he would chime with a boyish grin on his face, taking off his sunglasses as he stretched his long legs before latching behind you like a koala, “wake me up when you’re done, I’ll drive you home,” Gojo peacefully murmured without forgetting to place a kiss to your shoulder, while you stressed over your next exam. 

With him, even the coldest days always felt warm.

And on the next day, he’ll always take you to class with some soup and hot tea, murmuring about your poor dietary choices and how you often neglect your health to study. But at least he’ll be gentle, and wish you the best on your exam with a light kiss — an innocent kiss that lasts a bit too long, his hand always gracing your body as he reluctantly releases you, brushing off the saliva that linked your lips together — his good luck charm he’ll argue, a little tease of what he’ll reward you with later when you got home for being his good girl. 

Gojo will always try to convince, “Life isn’t always about studying, baby,” stating with a pout, after your fifth time canceling a date he’s planned to instead go on a simple walk outside your flat, “you gotta live life to the fullest! And why stress when you’ve snatched me?”

“Well, I can’t live life to the fullest if I don’t study now, Satoru. And who’s gonna pay for all that ice cream you eat? All the sweets you stock up on?”

“What do you mean?” Deadpanning as he stopped in his tracks, “you have me, what more else do you need? I'm a double threat — I’m rich and handsome.”

“Satoru — I… never mind,” rolling your eyes, as you were hit with his puppy eyes. 

“Just promise,” his tall frame blocking you, “that you’ll always stick with me.”

“I’m not a piece of gum to just stick onto you, Satoru,” pushing him away, only for him to reach out to delicately hold your hand, “You know, if you’re a gum, you’ll be the sweetest one.”

“Yea, why so?”

“Because every time I eat you, you taste so sweet,” he teased with a flirty wink, “if you get what I — ow!” 

Rubbing his forearm that barely hurt, Gojo loved to exaggerate when he was with you. 

For Gojo, things came easily for him, as if the universe highlighted his life as a thousand-year blessing, nothing was out of his reach — that is, nothing but you. 

Shocking to many, he pursued you first. When asked about how you guys met, or what’s the story behind you two, or even if no soul asked… he’ll blabber on with an outrageous story, saying he fell in love the moment he laid his eyes on you, that you were the apple of his eye — an over the top fanfiction of you and him of how he just knew you were the person for him when you stumbled into the library, arms full of books and coffee in the other, and you magically just happened to just bump into him. And if it wasn’t for that encounter, then he would’ve never gotten your number. 

And without your number, he wouldn’t have been able to woo you with his charm, he’ll always add with a wink.

“You can say it’s fate,” he’ll proclaim, “I never went to the library, you know,” as he munched on his icecream with Megumi and Tsumiki savoring theirs, both unbothered by the story he’s told them countless times, “and the one day I chose to follow Suguru because he was simping over someone, I get coffee spilled all over my clothes and meet her? Damn, the heavens just wanted us together.”

All you remember of that day was that your precious coffee went to waste, with your books embarrassingly spread out on the floor, and you were stuck having to dry clean his ridiculously expensive clothes. 

But with him, you experienced all your firsts.

Your first handholding — Satoru confidently took your hand, immediately interlocking his fingers with yours, his palms engulfing yours entirely, “don’t be scared baby, I’m not scared,” flexing his muscles as he proudly smiled,  “I’ll protect you!” as he leads you through the haunted mansion, jolting through every jump scare, absolutely refusing to scream. 

You remember his palms felt particularly clammy that day. 

Your first kiss — on a spring picnic as he laid on your lap, his eyes sparkling a little more than usual as he looked up at you, innocently asking, “can I kiss you?” 

Your first argument. Ignoring him for a whole week, only for your resolve to quickly break when Suguru urgently called you to his house stating that Satoru was deathly ill — dark circles under his eyes, cheeks frail from not eating, wrapped up in his blanket as he dramatically announced his dying wishes while sneaking obvious glances at you. 

Geto’s diagnosis: pure insanity. 

To your first cuddle buddy, to innocent make-out sessions, to wonton looks and lustful touches for more. leading to your first sexual experience, both unknowing and inexperienced as he groaned into your ear in the back of his car one rainy night as you struggled to take his girth.

He was your first taste of goodness — like a forbidden fruit, you increasingly wanted him more. In soul, mind, and body, you etched yourself into him, making the tear even more painful to rip apart. 

Sure, loving him was easy — but loving you, the version who was so lacking compared to him and insecure was hard.

You tried to ignore it, you did your best to brush off the insecurity that came with each day of choosing him. But having the message that you were worth less than he was being constantly blasted to your face — the blatant discrepancies between social classes and the nature of how you both grew up, to the constant side glances you’ll get wondering how someone so normal like you, got with such a high net worth — gradually, it all made you dissociate from him. 

So you worked even harder. You stayed up longer than anyone else just to get that better grade. You worked that extra shift just to prove that you were capable. You doused yourself in knowledge, yet tried to stay humble to be seemingly perfect… but in that, you unknowingly pushed him further away, losing parts of yourself while at it. 

And your final straw? It was a text message you accidentally read on his phone while he silently napped, cutely dozing off as you massaged his scalp.

From: Mom.

>> Remember the girl I talked to you about? Nitori-chan’s family requested that we set up a date for you two. The faster the better, no need for our families to meet, it’s all settled. 

To: Minako.

<< Let’s meet. When are you free, Minako? 

From: Minako.

>> Whenever! I can meet now!

>> Is this about our potential engagement?

To Minako.

<< Yea, let's meet tonight to talk about it.

You remembered, that night you couldn't reach him.

The final trigger that blew it over. The rambling of your thoughts paralyzes you from thinking rationally.

You didn’t need to search up who she was. Nitori Minako, the youngest daughter of Japan’s leading technology company that rivaled to that of America’s fruit. A girl that was a year younger than you — smart, adamantly cute, cunning and rich — always following him around a bit too closely for your liking, preaching about how “Gojo-san promised he’ll marry me when we were young! Isn’t that so cute?”

how long was this going on for? 

Has he always been going on secret dates like this? Was he always just willing to let it slide when you rejected his dates because he had other options?

Was he leading you on this whole time before he’ll leave you for what he rightfully deserved? 

Was all of this a lie? All of what he said?

The pinnacle of your sanity breaking as your thoughts became corrosive and brittle the more you dove deeper into the pitfalls of your insecurities — of course what people said was right, there was no way someone like him can settle for any less.

... Ultimately, everything led to you quietly blurting out as he rambled about his day. 

Playing with your hand, smiling like a loser as he intertwined your smaller fingers with his, “Geez, there was this jeweler that I wanted to take you to, but dammit, the store closed early today. Maybe we can go — ”

“Let’s break up,” you suddenly announced, looking straight ahead.

The room suddenly felt quiet, so quiet that the thumping of your heart felt like loud sirens blaring next to your eardrum, and your body felt numb. 

After a few seconds, Satoru stammered, “w-what?”

Sighing as you closed your eyes, “I said, let’s break up, we aren’t — ” you reiterated.

“I heard you the first time,” Gojo hissed, still playing with your fingers but his grip now harsher, “just wanted to make sure you weren’t bullshitting right now.”

“I’m not joking, Satoru,” your voice stripped of any emotion, “we aren’t good for eachother.”

“Says who?” the man challenged. 

“It’s something that’s been on my mind,” you responded back while trying to pull back your hand, “l-let go, Satoru, it hurts…”

“Is it because of the text?” Gojo refused to let go, even more so gripping even harder, “Fuck... I'm sorry I should've explained earlier," his voice pleading for you to listen.

"I swear nothing happened, and nothing will ever happen, b-baby look at me,” your boyfriend’s — now, ex-boyfriend's — voice elevating and shaking. 

“Gojo,” softly pausing after his name, “let’s end it when things aren’t so bad… I can’t have you hating me more when we have no other choice but to break up,” finally pushing his grip off, “it’s inevitable, we’ve been walking towards a destined finish line from the beginning, let’s just call it quits a little earlier.”

“no... you can't do this, you can't do this to me,” he vulnerably uttered, his body noticeably trembling as a tear dropped onto the back of your hand as he reached over to touch you, hoping it'll mend whatever hatred you had towards him, “you.. we promised,” his voice shaking.

“I’m sorry Gojo,” you dodged his grasp, “guess promises are only good if you can keep them, and I can’t.”

Days of him begging at the forefront of your door, crying as he asked for an explanation, his missed texts and calls that would go straight to voicemail, to Suguru stepping in to ask what the hell was going on… all leading you to cut off every aspect of Gojo Satoru out of your life, except Shoko.

After two years of dating, at the ripe age of 20, you experienced your first heartbreak with Gojo Satoru, marking the end of the final chapter of your love story with him. 

To you, he’ll be the greatest warmth you’ll ever experience. 

To him, you’ll be the heartless bitch that left him cold.

—-

“Hmm,” looking at your empty notifications, “guess she’s a little busy right now…” you hummed. Despite your outwardly calm demeanor and the stillness of the serene summer night, juxtaposed was your mind with wandering thoughts that wrecked havoc in your head. 

Shoko would update you occasionally about him, not going too far into details. You knew he was successful in his craft, excelling in it as he ranked 11th in Forbes 30 under 30 list, losing the tenth spot barely to a Zenin. It would be a lie if you weren’t curious about him, your mind wandering and weak during the quietest of nights, making a burner account to stalk his socials, only to immediately regret the moment you see photos and stories that presumably show that he’s in a relationship — with a gorgeous one in fact.

You’ve briefly heard of his dating history, hearing it from Shoko directly, as it mindlessly slipped through her tongue as she complained that he’s broken up with another girl. 

Throughout the years, you’ve concluded maybe this was your punishment for leaving him. Damnation to feel stuck in the same perpetual regret of hurting his heart, of choosing to look at your fears instead of maybe trusting in him. 

But, at least he looked happy. and you clung onto that reserve.

Maybe it was for the best that things happened this way  —

Your ears perked up as you heard the tapping of shoes coming towards you, your stomach suddenly dropping to the floor. 

“Were you planning on avoiding me the whole night?” 

You were sure, there was no denying that was his voice. 

Yes, it was a bit deeper from when you last heard it. The decibel of his voice is now infused with power and confidence, yet still with the underlying tone of softness from what you remembered. 

“Ah, sorry… how rude of me,” you mumbled, the pounding of your heart beating through your ribcage. You quickly placed an arm over your chest, a hand over your heart, doing anything to muffle the harsh pulsing, terrified that he was going to hear, “it’s been a while Gojo,” you offered him a light smile, “I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me Ieiri is waiting for me,” you tried excusing yourself only to be met with his stance unchanging, unmoving. 

You felt his eyes pierce into your skull, “Gojo?… ah that’s right,” his voice guarded as he looked over in another direction, his face pointing specifically elsewhere, the moonlight highlighting his perfect features.

“I think she’s pretty busy, don’t you think?” he shrugged.

Dammit she was your ride home. Guess coffee is on her for the next week. 

“Oh sorry,” you muttered under your breath.

Grinning as he licked his lips, “You’re awfully saying sorry a lot over nothing,” Gojo chuckled, “guess old habits die hard,” his last words spewed with a hint of bitterness as he clenched his jaws. 

Only to relax seconds later, placing his drink on the railing, softly grunting as he pulled off his jacket, and placed it over your shoulders, “It’s cold, don’t want you getting sick now,” the smell of his cologne filled up your lungs, hypnotizing your senses — a bit strong but nonetheless intoxicating.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for feeling a sense of security from the weight of his heated jacket, and in response, you started to immediately pick at your thumbs. 

“It’s okay!” You tried to object, trying to take it off only to be met with a stern yet gentleness of his voice, his large hand stopping you, now calloused and thick yet the warmth of his palm brushing against your smaller one felt nostalgic and sinful, as your eyes immediately noticed a gold sparkle on his ring finger, “it’s fine. my body runs hot, remember?” 

“T-thank you,” you muttered, the harsh beatings of your heart quickly making your cheeks feel hot. 

A ring? you wondered.  

“So, what made you come today?” Gojo huffed as he looked off into the distance.

“Had no excuse not to come.”

“I see,” his voice deep, taking the last swig of his drink, deeply inhaling to release a long breath, “It’s good to see you though.”

“Yea, me too,” you quietly responded, the awkwardness of the conversation eating at your bones, the tightness of your stomach knotting increasingly more.

Laughing as he turned around, his long legs crossed, showing a bit of his socks peeking out of his slacks as his dress shoes reflected the moon's shine. Surely, they were expensive, probably equaled to a month of your rent on his feet. With his arms crossing his chest, leaning against the railing, the quiet winds brushing against his soft hair, lightly masking his cerulean eyes as he faced you, “Liar, you were always good at that.”

Taking you off guard, your eyes immediately connecting with his, your breath stopping as if a sudden load was pushed onto your chest, you felt a wave of sadness rush over you as you ventured into his empty eyes. 

Since when did he have that ring? 

Did he find someone at Paris? Shoko told me — no, there’s no way he found someone so soon.

Or maybe he’s trying to settle down —

“Are you happy?” His question brought you back into reality.

“What?” you whispered.

“I don’t think I’ve asked a hard question,” he responded, his voice now harsh and impatient, “I asked if you were happy.”

Your finger pricks at your thumb, “I guess so…”

Rolling his tongue against his teeth, his finger playing with his ring.   

Taking no regard for catering to your comfort, he jeered, “Why’d you do it?”

“What are you talking —” you stammered.

“You know damn well what I’m referring to,” Gojo spat. 

“Excuse me,” You muttered, your eyes refusing to disconnect despite your whole body fighting against it.

“I- I got to go, Ieiri is waiting —”

“No, you already used that excuse,” pulling you in by your wrist, immediately caging you in between his arms, with you now leaning against the railing, your eyes level to his broad chest — has he always been this big?

“Answer me, at least you can have the courtesy of honestly telling me why you left me like that eight years ago.”

“I don't remember,” you stated with eyes threatening to spill.

“Liar,” his body leaning down, the hurt in eyes even more apparent than before, “you’re a fucking liar,” Gojo spewed with no resolve to withhold a solid tear from falling, his face now dangerously close — lips even more threatening to touch.

All you wanted to do was say sorry, to cup his face and kiss his tears, to say it was a mistake that you’ve never intended to let him go — you selfishly tortured him by continuously keeping him in your heart without giving him a chance to prove you wrong. 

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could respond.

“Did you not trust me?” Hurt was apparent in his voice, “Was I that untrustworthy for you to just leave like that and just disappear for eight years?”

“No, no… it’s not like that,” you tried comforting, unknowingly placing your hands on his chest, “it was never like that.”

"then tell me why," he forced out through gritted teeth while furrowing his brows.

"I just thought it was for the best," you quietly whispered.

"you thought it would be for the best?" Gojo scoffed, "And how the hell did you come to a conclusion to just leave like that?"

" 'm sorry, Gojo... I - I truly am," you pleaded while clenching his shirt.

"You must've really enjoyed watching me beg huh," Gojo challenged, "absolutely thrived knowing this was all for my own good, right?" Gojo spat out his anger.

"It wasn't like that, i'm so sorry, I was hurting —"

“Stop fucking apologizing! you don't get to do that," His voice shattered the serene night. Chest heaving as he clenched onto the stone railing, "I didn’t go through shit these past eight years just to hear your selfish sorry's,” he stated with gritted teeth, as he threateningly moved even closer, “d-did you even love me?” 

“Yes, of course!” You immediately cupped his face, finally letting go of the years you craved his touch, your heart shattering as you felt him melt into your wicked hands.

“Then kiss me,” he suddenly whispered, the slight scent of alcohol mixed in with cologne altering your judgment.

“Y-your drunk, Gojo,” you pleaded, immediately letting go of his face as you tried to push him off.

His voice elevated, "Why not?" Gojo growled, "Like you said, it's not like you left because you didn't love me. Or are you lying about that too?"

“don’t make this hard, we — I can’t do this with you anymore,” guilt running through your veins as the image of his ring blared loudly in your head.

You couldn’t do this to another girl, he wasn’t yours anymore… 

“stop the bullshit,” Gojo growled before his lips slammed into yours, his large hands cupping your face, leaving you no room to run away. his tongue forced its way into your mouth, teeth painfully clashing yet you didn’t mind. because against your resolve, your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to taste the sweetness of his saliva and feel the warmth of his tongue.

The groan of his voice vibrated against your lips, as his clothed hip bucked into your pelvis, his lips trailing down from yours to your neck, tongue sloppily trailing down with it as his hands wandered down to hold your hips.

“Tell me you missed me,” he moaned out as you gripped the ends of his hair,  his tongue teasing down your sweet spots, pecking kisses as he inhaled your scent.

“Say you loved me, I don't care anymore if it’s a lie,” your ex now pleaded, his hot breath heating your cheeks.

“… I love you,” you confessed.

Lowly laughing like a maniac, staring deep into your wanting eyes, the man whispered back, “aren't you fucking heartless.”

...

You don’t recall how you made it into the hotel room. In a moment your lips crashed with his on the balcony, and only a second later you found yourself with his large hand securely wrapped around yours, silently waiting for the elevator to bing on the twentieth floor as your ex-boyfriend led you into his hotel room.

Now, currently, you’re pressed against the wall, shoes thrown aside groaning with your hands tangled in his soft hair, as he hurriedly stripped you out of your dress, lips hungrily moving against each other as he growled into the kiss.

Though its been years, his touch never faltered from remembering your body — immediately tracing over your sweet spots that he’s located in your early twenties, now with more experience and strength he dove deeper in.

“Fuck, missed these beauties,” he groaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumb playing with your hardened nipples as he quickly released the back strap of your bra, promptly latching his lips onto your swollen ones again right before you released a moan.

Your body had a mind of its own. Fallen into sin, your hands unbuttoned his shirt, quickly revealing his toned, muscular build as your hands ran against his pecs. You felt his stomach flex as you started to unbuckle his belt and zip down his pants, his lips hungrily chasing after yours as he caressed your body, hands slipping down further into your inner thigh, his index starting to play with your swollen clit — his fingers have always been so pretty, especially with his ring

“G-gojo stop!” Your eyes immediately shoot open.

“What,” annoyed, the man hissed, looking into your eyes with his pupils dilated, hair absolutely disheveled, until moments later his lips are impatiently back onto yours again. 

“We.. we can’t,” you cried out as you melted in his touch, “y-your ring,” you gasped out, suffocating as he stripped you of oxygen.

“Ring?” he stopped for a brief moment, chuckling as he brought up his finger, “you worried about this?” he teased.

Intoxicated in his touch, you were willing to throw away your pride and dignity just for one night — one night can’t hurt, right? So you take the ounce of courage you had left, placing a tender kiss on his lips as a sign of surrender as you gently cupped his face, “take off your ring,” you whispered as you guilty looked away.

Chasing after your kiss, pushing you further into the room as you yelped at his force, your arms entangled around his neck and fingers around his hair as you tried to stabilize yourself, “I promise you it’s nothing, sweetheart,” he coaxed with his sharp canines flashing through his wickedly handsome smile. 

And running his lips against your chest, leaving small denture marks on your skin that forced moans out of you, with his pants now pooled at his ankles before shimming them off, his cock fully erect, unapologetically twitching in his briefs.

“For you, I guess,” Gojo hummed as he watched the thin line of spit that connected you both dissipate away, existing as a sign of proof of the situationship he currently had with you. 

Taking his ring off, he set it down near the bedside table, "there it's gone."

At least for this night, he was yours. 

You’ll repent for your sins, and receive any punishment the gods had to give you tomorrow, but today, you chose him.

And right now, you also chose to kneel in between his thighs, hooking your finger under his waistband to pull his briefs off. Satoru immediately lifted his hips to help you while releasing a sultry groan as he felt the cold air elope his sensitive tip. 

Was he always this thick? You remembered his cock being pretty, but also what the fuck were those two veins running down his shaft? And was he always this… groomed? 

“Are you just gonna stare at it… or do I need to use your mouth to get some action?” Satoru impatiently asked with his cock twitching, his finger brushing against your heated cheeks as he palmed his member.

“It’s just been awhile,” you murmured, licking your lips before you opened your mouth to have him enter.

“Fuck, " Satoru shuddered as the base of your tongue brushed against his frenulum.

"i must be dreaming,” Gojo murmured under his breath, your head rising up as you released his cock with pop! With your hot tongue swirling against his head, there was no chance for Satoru to stay strong. and you enjoyed every second of seeing him slowly unravel in your power.

“j-just like that,” he ordered while placing his hand on top of your head, guiding your momentum. 

His precum tasted salty but pleasant. Hell, he wasn’t even close to the other men you’ve been with, incomparable starting with the size of their dicks to his.

Hallowing your cheeks and expanding your throat to take in his shaft, with your hands gently playing with his balls, you felt his cock hit the back of your throat the moment you saw his head fling backwards, gasping as he pushed down his spit down his dry throat.

“You like that?” Gojo hissed as he bucked his hips into your warm crevice, “you missed my cock, angel?”

You honestly agreed, tears staining your vision with his length stuffed into your orifice, only to get a spiteful laugh in return, “well, guess that makes two of us,” he huffed while crowning over your body, pushing himself deeper into you, his stomach hitching as he groaned out your name.  

“Fuck this shit,” he moaned, as he urgently pulled himself out of your mouth, sacrificing his impeding release for abstinence. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he gasped when your thumbs swirled around his pulsing head, “you always do,” he purred as he nibbled on your lower lip, promptly pulling you onto his lap, one hand straddling your waist while the other mounded your ass.

And looking up at you, with his blue eyes now darkened in full blown lust, his hot breath sending chills down your spine, “tell me what you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“Y-you,” you shamefully confessed, gasping as his cock grazed against your sensitive folds, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you started to grind against his length, “I want you inside me again, Satoru” you whispered into his ear, lightly moaning out his name.

“Shit,” Satoru croaked, pulling himself down as he gently released you to lay on the bed, “I dont have a condom,” he confessed as he gently kissed your cheeks, “ you gonna be okay without it?” he asked.

“Mhm, j-just hurry… please,” you murmured. 

“Good girl, now come here,” he coaxed as he placed a soft pillow under your head. 

Taking a brief moment to observe your face, reading any sign of forced emotion that you might try to hide, only to ease himself into the kiss when he feels you impatiently desiring his touch, “relax, baby,” he cooed as his kisses traveled southward.

Placing each delicate kiss on your body as his soft hair trailed behind, lightly tickling you as your thighs gently caged his waists into you, “you know they wanted me to thank you,” Gojo breathed out as he split your thighs open, settling himself in between your legs.

“W-who?” you whimpered as his calloused hands massaged your muscles, his soft lips easing out the tension boiling in your core while your hands immediately went straight to grip his hair.

Lips drawing closer, closer and closer until his breath knocked against the frame of your dripping cunt.

“God you’re so fucking wet,” blowing air onto your sensitive nerves, looking up to watch your body shiver at his power as he slid his finger down your folds, pushing in one finger, two, and eventually three into your tight hole as he watched you stretch, your viscous juice soon dripping down his forearm.

“They wanted me to thank you for how good I eat pussy now,” Gojo smirked before he took a swipe of his tongue against your womanhood, spreading out your cunt as he purposefully flicked his tongue against your clit, lightly sucking on the bud thereafter.

… 

How many times as it been, you wondered? More than once or twice, maybe four… five — you moaned out when you felt your legs hitching up to his shoulders, his cock hitting just at the right spots he remembered from years ago. 

“Angel,” Gojo huffed as sweat dripped down his temple, grunting as he felt your tight walls fluttering against his length at the call of his sweet pet name, “you have that much leisure to be thinking about something else when I’m fucking you?” 

Kissing your ankles, his pelvis showing you no mercy as his wet skin slapped against your ass, the sound and sultry smell of hot sex filtrating your room, “still so fucking tight,” Satoru grunted as he pushed his body onto you, your legs hooking against his shoulders, his strong arms holding you from under.

“G-gojo!” you rasped out, barely audible and inable to breathe from his heavy weight and humidity of the room, “it’s too deep! Slow down!”

Growling into your ear, his teeth nibbling against your earlobe, his hot breath stinging your face as he scoffed at your choice to call him so mundanely.

“you gonna be so impersonable,” his thrust going deeper, harder into you, “when I’m so deepily inside you?”

“Ngh,” gasping, “it’s too much,” you sobbed with his face planted into your neck, and his ass clenching with every push he drove into your gushy walls that still wrapped so perfectly around his — just like how he’s last felt you around him, just like how he’s molded your insides just for himself.

“You let anyone else fuck you?” He suddenly hissed, panting as he tried to catch his breath, the sweat on his back making it difficult for you to hold onto him, “you let anyone else see this side of you?”

“It’s too much —” you pleaded, avoiding his question.

“Answer me,” he lowly ordered.

Unable to withstand his power, absolutely willing to fold for him and his desires, you fastidiously nodded, “only a couple,” you shyly confessed.

"how many," he growled, disappointed in your answer, "how many fucked this."

"o-one or two, ngh I-I don't remember," you panted.

“One or two, you say,” he cooed as he pulsed his cock swiftly into you in rhythmic motions, satisfied seeing his length disappear inside you. his pace driving you to the brink of insanity as your lower belly started to fire up again as he knowingly pressed his palm down on your stomach.

“Then I gotta fuck you twice more to force out all memory you have of those stupid fucks,” grunting as he cupped your face to look at him, lips swollen with his skin marked by your nails, hips unapologetically thrusting into you as he watched you unravel in his lead, “because this pussy’s always been mine.”

Seven.

He’s definitely made you cum seven times. you remembered the count just before he groaned out your name, his thrusts sloppy and strained, gasping as he pulled you tighter into his embrace, face caved into your neck as he finally released his thick loads into your abused walls, sobbing out cursed moans as you held him, expending out every last ounce of energy you had for him in mere four words,

“I’ve always loved you,” you whispered before completely passing out. 

You failed to notice a tear fall from his eyes drop to your face. He hoped that it’ll stain you, wished it would reach all the way through to your heart to burn you. But he couldn't, so instead he carefully wiped it away as he gently kissed your face — inch by inch of your canvas before he chose to face you again.

“you’re so heartless,” Gojo chuckled as he pulled you in for a tight hug, straight into his chest as he laid beside you, refusing to pull out and have his cum spill onto the sheets — a feat he’s never dared to do with anyone else, he’s always fucked protected.

“what am I going to do with you," he breathed out.

"even with all this time, I’m still so weak for you,” he quietly confessed, reaching over to the side, reaching for his ring to put on the empty finger, before he too fell into the abyss of another dimension with you in his arms. 

—-

Lowly groaning as you opened your eyes, your body felt oddly heavy and aching, but yet warm and safe despite feeling on the absolutely verge of possibly snapping in half and breaking with any force.

Blinking a couple times before you started to register the room, you felt a slight huff next to your ear and the tightening around your waist as your back leaned against something hard.

Gojo Satoru, in all of his glory, was sleeping so soundly next you.

Carefully turning around to face him, you observed his features as you ran your fingers against his skin.

His lashes were still so long and soft, you giggled when Gojo twitched his nose at your touch.

His cheeks were still so smooth, without a spec of a blemish, but you can see the little bags under his eyes and the small creases on his skin. he’s probably tired from traveling.

Your finger travels down to his chiseled jaw, and defined collar bones, examining the light scratch marks on his pale skin, and the bruising of his nipple — wait… his lips are chapped and swollen, and his cock… oh god, his cock was brushing against your stomach — hard and pulsing. 

Immediately gasping, you felt the blood in your body drain at the revelation that you’ve fucked your ex — no, you fucked your ex of eight years, that you were still crazily hung up over that most likely had a girlfriend waiting for him to respond back to.  

Before you could think, your adrenaline pressed forward to act before your mind, immediately unlocking his hands from your naked waists, standing up too quickly only to stumble from your trembling legs. You felt something drip down your thighs — white viscous slowly running down your legs, your face heating up at the memory of last night. 

“I- I need to leave,” you whispered, quickly gathering your discarded clothes and undergarments as you rushed to the restroom, forcing down your whimpers as your sensitive cunt brushed against your thighs with every step you took.

“I can’t be here, t-this was a mistake,” you stammered while putting on your dress, quickly stuffing your used panties into your purse.

You looked like a mess, but it didn’t matter because you needed to get the hell out of there before he woke up, but somehow your feet didn’t move in the direction you wanted them to — out the door — but instead towards him unknowingly sleeping.

And quietly sitting against the edge of the bed, carefully pushing away the edges of his bangs that covered his handsome face, you decided to take a minute to absorb the last images of what you’ll have of him. And there you decided to let a tear or two drop from your eyes as you said your last goodbyes, gently kissing his lips before you made your way out the door, whispering, once again,

“I’m sorry…”

—- 

It’s been close to an hour since your walk of shame out the door. Since then you quickly checked out of your room and made your way out of the hotel. 

You immediately called for a taxi to get home, groaning as you were hit with the realities of your mistakes last night.

Treading up the stairs your legs quivered with every move. It's been a while since you've been fucked that hard, nor even had a partner that lasted so long.

You needed to text Shoko, you prayed that she didn’t blow through your notifications when you suddenly went missing last night. Sighing, you absentmindedly tried to find your phone in your bag as you punched in your door keys.

You started to think, maybe the whole fucking universe was now against you, for your sins, because your phone wasn’t in your purse.

You tried to retrace your steps to where you’d last used it as you made yourself over to your bed, stripping off your clothes as you walked over to the shower.

And to your last memory, you texted Ieiri out in the balcony… and then,

“Shit,” you hissed, remembering how your bag was tossed to the side when you were being feverishly stripped of your clothes, “it’s probably under his bed or something.”

“I hope no one calls… or tries to contact me until he leaves his room,” you groaned as the hot water massaged your tense shoulders while your fingers ran down your body.

Washing every crevice as you also tried to erase away the memory you had with him, you forced yourself to retract your tears. This was your punishment you repeated, this was the outcome of your selfishness. You lathered yourself in soap, trying to scrub away the pent-up guilt until you noticed something flash under the light.

You never wore your jewelry into the shower, you’ve always had a habit to take them off to not tarnish. 

But there was a golden ring, a ring that fits a little loosely on your promise finger.

Unable to understand why, all that circled through your mind was to go back.

Quickly washing off, throwing on any pair of clothes before running to your door, you could feel your anxious heart beating loudly in your chest as your ears started to feel plugged from the tension. And just when you’re about to open your door, you hear a buzz that silenced every chaos around you.

Looking through the peep hole, you felt faint, your heart entirely about to burst — is this reality or am i still dreaming?

“It’s me,” you heard his calm voice.

Your hands trembled as you slowly opened up the door, your eyes taking a moment to quickly scan his body — donning the same clothes as yesterday with the top buttons of his white shirt undone and ends stuffed into his slacks, his hair lightly messy and eyes a little sunken.

“How’d you get here?” you gasped with your ringed hand clenched, hidden behind your back, while the other pricked at your thumb.

“You left your phone in my room, and I found it because Ieiri was blowing up your phone," Satoru calmly stated as he handed over your phone, "so I asked where you lived to drop it off.”

“She didn’t say anything?” you warily asked

“Well, she did ask about us."

“And… did she threaten you or anything?”

“No, why would she? But,” stretching out his arms as he released groan, “I told her we fucked,” he boyishly smiled. 

Afraid to confront your messy rendezvous with him, you nervously bit your lips, and you avoided his gaze. Noticing your tendencies, you felt his hand cup your face to meet his while his thumb gently soothed your aching lip, "hey," he whispered, "don't do that."

And stepping closer to you, the mild fragrance of his shampoo dancing in your nostrils, “Did you see it?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you acknowledged, “I saw it just now while showering,” you looked into his eyes to seek an answer, tears starting to cloud your vision.

“You know, I’m not the same anymore,” he confessed, “I have power, I’m strong, and I’m able to do things now,” pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “but the only thing that stayed the same about me," chuckling as he shook his head — as if he couldn't even believe it himself.

"is that I didn’t change my number since we’ve broken up,” he stated before taking a step into your apartment, the click of his shoes hitting the tile floor echoing throughout the hallway, “I just hoped maybe one day you’ll call.”

"why?" you honestly questioned, unable to understand why he would choose to do that.

"I don't know," Satoru shrugged while pulling away, "guess I really tried to subconsciously manifest the we were fated to be bullshit that I preached."

“But that girl,” you quietly muttered while you unknowingly pouted when you saw his arms cross against his chest, the tightness of his sleeves about to burst from his muscles bulging.

“Girl… what girl?” Your comment took him aback.

“The one you were in Paris with,” your face feeling hot, embarrassed that you outed yourself for stalking him.

“You stalking me?” He chuckled while leaning against the wall, "it's not what you think," Gojo sighed as he pushed back his hair, "that girl, it was Suguru.”

Raising an eyebrow as he examined your expression, sighing as he saw the unbelief in your eyes, “Here look,” he commented while pulling out his phone to show you pictures, “we went for his art exhibition or some shit because his girl couldn’t make it with him.”

“B-but you came late to the reunion.”

“Yea, because I wasn't going to pull up looking mid when I needed to make you regret ever dumping me,” he joked while pinching your cheeks, "I didn't have plans on attending until that jerk sent me a photo of you," he shamelessly confessed.

“You’re stupid,” you grasped his hand to check his finger — ringless.

“But it was worth it, no? Got you to indirectly confess,” emphasizing his last few words, “that maybe you still love me."

"Whatever," you mumbled, "I said I loved you."

"fine by me," Satoru accepted, " but the fact is that you still think I’m hot, no? Or maybe you just missed my cock? ”

“You’re crazy,” you stated while wiping your tears.

“Yea, I know,” his gaze softens as he sees you playing with his fingers, your small ones wrapped around his.

“and this ring is too big for me,” you cried as you melted in his touch, his right thumb gently rubbing against your cheeks.

“That too, I know,” he smiled stepping closer into your house, and slowly closing the door behind him, “we’ll get another one together soon, only if you'll let me.”

"I'd like that," you whispered.

“I just couldn’t get it for us when you heartlessly broke up with me eight years ago," Satoru confessed while brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m so sorry Satoru,” you snuggled your face into his strong chest, his arms tightly wrapped around you, cooing as he steadied your breaths, “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.”

“I’ve hurt you, I’m the one that caused all this,” you heaved as he pressed light kisses all over your face.

“Through everything,” kissing your swollen eyes, taking his time to savor your touch as his lips traveled their way back to its home, briefly kissing your ringed finger as he looked into your eyes. 

And sealing his final destination, he whispered before locking his lips with yours once more,

“I’ll always find you even if you run away because you’ll always be mine.”

author's comment: sheesh, I didn't expect this to get this long... but here it is! I wanted to write the typical exes-to-lovers trope, but I was stuck on the quote with Satoru teasing how his past partners wanted to thank the reader for teaching him how to eat pussy... and here we are over 9k words later.... oh wells

again, i hope you enjoyed it!!

p.s. i might just have one exes to lovers in the drafts for geto, as well.... hahahahaha but you didn't hear that from me, nope (,:

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #darkmode. #forbes30!gojo

[pedgito]

hi! i have a small prompt request!

what if eddie left something that’s for hellfire (like a notebook or one of his advanced dnd folders) and the reader (a cheerleader getting off of practice) sees it and decides to walk to his place to give it back

it starts raining and once they get there, wanye offers them a shower so they don’t get sick and to dry their clothes

long story short, eddie walks in on them after their shower and gets all flustered after staring for a while

maybe a small perv eddie BUT ALL FLUFF WITH FEELINGS SHOWN AT THE END

author’s note: this was supposed to be quick but i got carried away lol, i hope it’s okay!

cw: 18+ (minors dni) slight perv!eddie, reader is good at calling eddie’s bluffs, acquaintances to friends (w possible benefits), unrequited crushes, cheerleader!reader, mentions of drug use, kissing/teasing, lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 3.8k

Eddie was the least scariest person you knew, no matter how much people swore the opposite. Truthfully, you didn’t even know him very well—aside from the occasional discreet meet-up on the outskirts of school grounds, which after a few times eventually turned into meeting up with Eddie at his house, or allowing him to drive you, the latter being the more frequent. To be fair, most of what you relationship consisted of was a tolerance for the other. If he wasn’t the cheapest and easily accessible option for drugs, you wouldn’t have batted an eye—regardless of how cute he may have been.

And you’re not blind, you can see it. Eddie’s always been attractive, from his short buzzcut in grade school to his long, tousled curls he sported now, hiding his fit physique behind too many layers and always overcompensating with his over the top personality—not that you minded it, but it definitely rubbed people the wrong way.

Either way, he shafts you earlier in the day when you ask to meet up with him, going on and on about his stupid club, you didn’t understand any of it. It seemed way too serious for a game that consisted of plastic dice and way too much math for something that was supposed to be fun. He’s also flustered more than usual, slightly all over the place—and when his spiral notebook falls from his bag at the ring of the final bell dismissing you for the day, he doesn’t hear you calling after him, already long gone.

If it weren’t for the strict practice schedule Chrissy liked to keep, you would have ran straight to the theater room and returned Eddie’s belongings, not even thinking twice about it—and sure, his friends would probably tease him about some like you, a cheerleader, coming by to talk to him. But, Eddie had never explicitly stated his dislike for anyone really, not even Jason, who hounded him relentlessly for just breathing.

The next best option is to catch him after, knowing his club meetings probably stretched into the late hours of the evening, but the doors to the building are already looked when you arrive there—shaking and pounding on the door is no help either, your shoulders slumping in defeat.

It was just a notebook and it could wait until the next day, but from personal experience, it would have driven you crazy knowing someone had your belongings in their possession without you realizing —and besides, you could still buy from Eddie that way, not giving him a chance to weasel out that easily.

The walk isn’t bad at first either, the air is warm and calm, the passing cars providing enough light on your walk that it isn’t so terrifying—as often as your parents warned you about going out alone, you couldn’t understand why you were so easily throwing caution to the window now. But with Eddie, it seemed like a regular theme.

A bad boy who supposedly dabbled in satanic worshiping and sold fairly good weed, how could you pass that up? It was everything that everyone told you to steer clear of. It didn’t help that Eddie was also insanely kind to you, never asking prying questions or judging you—it made him even more attainable in your eyes. But alas, you couldn’t ever justify any of it to him, not without making an embarrassment of yourself if he rejected you.

But the rain hits about five minutes from Eddie’s house and the trail of trees are doing nothing to aid as cover from the storm. Your pace picks up, shoes squeaking against the pavement until you were nearly running, racing down the trail that led to the small cul de sac of trailers, knocking on Eddie’s door with a ferocity that could be mistaken for an intruder.

It’s much too late to turn back when Eddie’s uncle answers the door instead of him, turning quickly to realize that Eddie wasn’t even home, his van not parked in the driveway like it usually was.

Wayne has a crease in his brow, unlit cigarettes tucked between his lips as if he was planning to go for a smoke. His face softens at the sight of you, hair soaked over your shoulders and your practice clothes sticking to your skin—a thin top and an even thinner pair of shorts that had you shivering despite the humid, end of summer heat.

“Hey, kid—you didn’t get a ride with my nephew?” Wayne asks through the screen door.

You squint, rain still trickling down your face, though it’s slightly lighter now.

“Yeah, he uh—I needed to return something to him, he doesn’t know I’m here. I thought he would be home by now.” You explain, wiping your face weakly.

“Ah shit—just come inside, kid.” Wayne relents, opening the door. “I’m headed up to the plant but I’m sure he’ll be home soon—probably headed over to Rick’s for a bit.”

Reefer Rick was nothing but an anomaly in your mind, someone you always heard about but never saw. You only knew so much that Eddie received his drugs from him, but not much else—and frankly, you’d like to keep it that way.

“Are you sure?” You ask hesitantly, “I don’t want to intrude, sir.”

Wayne scoffs kindly at the endearment. He was a nice man, quiet more often than not, but he always meant well. He was still a stranger though, despite how often you saw him. If it weren’t for the familiarity you would’ve ran the other direction.

“Of course—you can clean up in the shower if you need to.” He says, motioning behind him with his thumb extended, “I’ll lock up behind me—and if Eddie doesn’t at least give you a ride home in this storm, I’ll give him hell come tomorrow morning.”

You smile warmly, nodding in response. “I think I’ll take you up on the offer,” You tell him, wanting nothing more than to be out of your wet clothes, “hopefully Eddie doesn’t mind lending me some clothes.”

“Can’t see why not.” He says, allowing you inside before slipping past you in silence, “I’ll see you around, kid.”

You smile politely, “You too, Mr. Munson.”

Again, another name he dislikes. But, you couldn’t help it. He understands you probably came from a family that stuck with the propers and addressed people more formally—it’s just another reminder that Eddie didn’t grow up like everyone else. Like a normal family.

When the door is shut and locked, the silence hits you hard. Aside from the gentle hum of electricity running throughout the trailer and the buzz of the lights, it was eerie. It made you miss Eddie’s blaring music that he liked to play in his bedroom, surely annoying every neighbor within a five mile stretch.

You heave a heavy sigh and trek toward the back of the trailer, remaining cautious about the water dripping from you—having toed your shoes off at the door to help with that. The bathroom is tiny, barely big enough to fit the necessities, a stand up shower in the place of what would normally be a bathtub, but you’re not one to complain. You fiddle with the faucet handle for a while, adjusting it until the water ran hot and swiped the curtain close to trap in the heat.

Your clothes fell to the floor in a wet mess, realizing much too late that you didn’t have anything of yours to put on—clothes were obvious, but the problem lies within your soaked bra and underwear. It was a problem you could deal with later, naked body shivering in the stagnant air. You slip into the shower quickly, letting out an audible sigh as the heat hits your body and suddenly everything is fixed.

It was a wasted trip to Rick’s unfortunately, he was low on his stash, sending Eddie home empty handed for the weekend.

The stress of the day was enough to knock Eddie on his ass the second he stepped inside the trailer—not to mention having lost his D&D notebook earlier in the day and having nothing for Hellfire that night, scribbling most of it down from memory in an attempt to make do. His keys clatter against the counter, palm rubbing over his face in exhaustion as he slips his shoes off, stumbling over another pair in the process.

And unless Wayne had decided to take a night off and not give him a warning ahead of time, he might regret trailing any further inside the trailer—and that’s when it dawns on Eddie, the shower running in the background.

He takes it all in—shoes, shower, his eyes wander further, scanning for anything else—his eyes land on a bag, soaked and sitting on the kitchen floor, his notebook peeking out of the unzipped zipper.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles to himself, snatching the backpack up into his hands. He pulls the notebook out and tosses it aside, thankfully it had been unscathed from the rain.

But, he could spot this bag anywhere. He saw it every day, stared at it in the back of his English class when he was bored out of his goddamn mind.

So, unless his conclusion was more fucked than what was probably going on, you had to be somewhere inside his trailer—and with narrowing it down, that probably meant the shower. He glanced at the clock, knowing that Wayne had to be gone; there was no way in hell he was taking a day off unless he was sick and bed-ridden.

He hears the faucet turn off from where he’s standing, dropping the bag on the counter. He can’t decide if he should approach or stay back, but it’s too late to decide before you’re stepping out of the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around your body, using another to squeeze out the extra water from your hair.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice travels, a smirk growing on his face, “but what the hell are you doing in my trailer, alone?”

You panic, having not expected him to be standing in the kitchen when you stepped, hoping you had enough time to shower and get dressed—but unfortunately, this was your reality.

“Jesus, Eddie.” You exclaim, palm pressed over your chest to calm your rapidly beating heart. You toss the towel on the floor with your soaked clothes, turning to him. “I—your notebook, you left it in class.”

“What?” Eddie asks dumbfounded.

“Your notebook—you left it.” You explain slower, taking a few steps into the living room and passing a small distance toward the kitchen, poised on the opposite side of the counter where Eddie was standing. “I figured it was important so I wanted to get it back to you.”

“Did you look inside it?” Eddie presses, but it wasn’t like you didn’t already know his nerdy tendencies. “And you couldn’t have waited?”

“No—and no.” You tell him, “I tried giving it to you after practice but the building was locked and I needed to buy off you, so I figured two birds, one stone, you know?”

You step back slightly and Eddie’s eyes follow—you weren’t naive, he was checking you out. You didn’t mind though, despite how awkward the situation was.

“Your uncle let me inside,” You explain, “I walked here and it started pouring, my clothes are soaking wet.”

“And that’s my problem?” Eddie asks meanly, though it comes off as more teasing than anything. Eddie couldn’t be mean to you if he tried.

“Yes,” You challenge, “I need to borrow some clothes.”

Eddie laughs slightly, fingers tapping against the countertop quietly, rings clanking against the surface. His tongue pokes at his cheek, eyes traveling your mostly bare figure, “Fine, follow me.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, following closely behind.

“I would have taken them regardless.” You retort quietly and Eddie howls a laugh over his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, I was messing with you.” Eddie responds smugly, “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

“I don’t take you for anything,” You tell him honestly, “I know what people say about you but what does that matter?”

The words hit Eddie deeper than he anticipates, glaring at the floor as he stops at the threshold of his room, seeing you follow behind in the mirror stretching the expanse of his wall. He’s suddenly dry in the mouth and at a loss for words, realizing the gravity of the situation—even if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

A naked girl in his house, his bedroom—one that he couldn’t help but have a crush on despite every sign telling him he shouldn’t, and she didn’t hate him. Karma had a hell of a way of working its magic and he couldn’t trust this for a second. So, despite his immediate reaction to be flustered and searching for the right words, he slips the mask back on.

“Maybe it’s true,” He shrugs, raising his arm up to let you slip under, walking in front of him and toward his dresser, “top is shirts, bottom is pants—“

You grab a shirt wordlessly, one of Eddie’s Hellfire shirts. He had a few, something that could be noted with a quick glance in his drawer, before you’re pulling out an old pair of cotton sweatpants from the next drawer, tossing them on the bed.

“—is that all,” Eddie asks curiously, leaning against the doorframe, “just a shirt and pants?”

“Everything was soaked, Eddie.” You stressed, eyes glaring at him. “Do you mind?”

“No.” He grins devilishly, not bothering to turn away.

There was no way you were letting him get away with this.

“Fine.” You respond with a shrug, calling his bluff.

You drop the towel without warning and Eddie visibly tenses, only catching the side of your breasts as you turn to slip the shirt over your head, ass on full display.

Eddie’s never been so intimidated in his life. But, he wasn’t giving in that easily.

You pull the sweatpants over your hips and turn to him, eyebrow cocked up intimidatingly. “Enjoy yourself?”

Eddie takes a careful glance at you, stopping on his shirt.

“Actually—do you mind picking something else?” Eddie asks, finger coming up to tug at the sleeve, “This is one of my favorites.”

Your shoulders slump, eyes boring into his, the corners of his lips crinkling as he grinned. “You’re kidding?”

“Dead serious.” He answers quickly.

You slip the shirt off in one go, not giving him much of a chance to enjoy the view, hurling the material at his face.

“Hey,” His voice is muffled, grabbing the shirt out of annoyance and balling it up, tossing it somewhere in his room—you couldn’t be bothered to care, pulling the new shirt over your head, “—look, I’m sorry.”

“For?” You ask, arms crossing over your chest as you look at him. “Being annoying? Obnoxious, irritating—“

“Okay, okay—“ Eddie says with a laugh, hoping it stops your relentless attempt to belittle him. “I was joking, I didn’t think you’d, you know…”

“So, you didn’t want me to strip naked in front of you?” You ask teasingly, returning that bite of mean right back at him. “Damn, that sucks.”

You attempt to shove past him, trying to hurry up the process and get out of there, feeling that if you stayed any longer you would just embarrass yourself further.

You never make it past Eddie, his hand pressed flat against your stomach in an effort to stop you. You glance down at his hand for a moment too long and Eddie thinks that is the overstep—not everything that happened just a few seconds prior.

“Sorry,” He says quickly, “I just—I was going to tell you that I don’t have anything to sell. I’m out until next week. But, I can give you a ride home, if you need it.”

“Unless you want me sleeping here, yeah.” You retort flippantly.

Eddie doesn’t respond, letting you shove past and gathering your things, shoes still soaked ridiculously. You sigh, squatting down by the door to turn your shoes upside down, the water dripping from the laces and creating a puddle.

Eddie watches from a few feet away, hip leaning against the counter, “I don’t mind—if you want to sleep here.”

“I just need a few hours, maybe two if I can dry them out somehow.”

And truthfully, the easier option would be to sleep it off and deal with it tomorrow, the rain back to its original heavy downpour. The thunder crackles ominously and Eddie smiles slightly, less condescending and more welcoming.

“I didn’t say thank you for bringing that all the way here,” Eddie notes, “so, thank you.”

“You don’t have to—“

“You could’ve just left it but you didn’t.” Eddie shrugs, nodding toward the couch wordlessly. You’re hesitant at first, knowing that you and Eddie didn’t do these things. You didn’t talk, not really—and you definitely didn’t hang out. Social cliques handled that well enough.

“Well, if it was me I would hope that someone would return the favor.” You tell him honestly, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, bare feet pressed into the cushion separating you both.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Eddie tells you randomly, idle hand pulling at the loose threads on the arm of the couch.

“You didn’t.” You smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Trust me, you would know.”

“Good.” Eddie smiles to himself. “Good.”

You snort softly, “So, can I ask what’s in the notebook?”

“Do you really want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

“Yeah,” You nod, grinning at him, “besides, what else are we supposed to do all night?”

Eddie’s never flushed so red, ears burning with embarrassment. You laugh quietly at his inability to hide his bashfulness, the chain connected to his pants jingling as he walked, fetching the notebook from its place.

“Uh, it’s kinda confusing,” Eddie admits, taking a closer seat beside you, “so it would probably make no sense even if I tried to explain it.”

You reposition your feet under you, sitting on your heels. Eddie’s book is filled with countless scribblings and drawings, not a single page blank as he lets you flip through slowly, taking in the detail Eddie puts into his art.

“Eddie, this is really good.” You tell him honestly, running your finger along the lines of a rather menacing figure, deathly and sickening looking, covered in a hooded cape. “I didn’t know you could draw like this.”

“It’s not—“ Eddie starts uneasily, gearing to say something self-deprecating.

“Shut up,” You tell him quickly, “don’t even say it.”

Eddie laughs at that, your face serious despite the smile that breaks out on his face. He’s never taken a compliment in his life, but for some reason, he listens.

“Thanks.” He tells you softly, closing the book and placing it on the table placed in front of the couch.

Admittedly, you weren’t sure what to expect from Eddie. He’s always been a mystery to you, aside from the things people said about him.

“Why do you let people talk about you the way they do?” You ask curiously, head tilted to rest against the couch.

“Why disprove what’s true,” Eddie shrugs, “that reminds me, I’ve got a sacrifice to attend later tonight—“

“Eddie,” You linger on his name, eyeing him pointedly, “I’m serious.”

He shrugs wordlessly, twisting his rings absentmindedly, “I can’t be bothered to give a shit what people think about me.”

You’re silent, Eddie’s gaze downturned toward the floor.

“Aren’t you breaking all types of rules by talking to me—I thought you cheerleaders only associated with Jason and his band of assholes?”

You snort in amusement, shoving Eddie gently with your foot.

“Is that all you take me for?” You ask teasingly, “A cheerleader?”

Eddie shrugs, he couldn’t explain his attraction toward you—earlier actions aside, he’s always been intrigued by you. The act of wanting what he knew he couldn’t have.

And you can’t tell if Eddie is trying to act coy, or he’s just shy—you’d never take him for the type, but sitting here with him now his personality had taken a quick turn. His usual hard exterior was a lot softer around the edges. Eddie glanced at you sparingly, pulling at the frayed material of his ripped jeans.

“Come here.” You urge him suddenly, using the small ounce of courage you had in your body to take a chance, extending your hand for him to move closer.

Eddie’s apprehensive in a way, allowing himself to scoot as close as possible, your legs extending over his lap.

“Answer the question, Eddie.” You order him softly, “Am I just some cheerleader to you? Is that why you like me?”

His stomach is in his throat, staring you down with comically wide eyes, his bangs curtaining over his forehead messily. Eddie shakes his head wordlessly.

“So you do?” You ask with a faint smugness, “Like me?”

“Am I that obvious?.” Eddie asks with a chuckle.

You shake your head, “No, actually—but that shit you pulled earlier…kinda gave you away.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it either.” He counters, fingers pressing into the soft cotton of his sweatpants on your body, “Now look who’s sitting here in my clothes.”

“Because I was soaked.” You defend.

“After walking five minutes in the rain just to return my notebook.” Eddie points out, “That you could’ve returned to me on Monday—yet, here you are.”

The tension is thick, Eddie’s plush lips on full display as his jaw tensed. Your fingers wander, the guitar pick around his neck tickling your palm as you examine it, speaking idly.

“What a genius,” You snark playfully, “Say, what’s your policy on kissing customers?”

“Hard no,” Eddie smiles, lying through his teeth, “why?”

“Damn.” You curse, eyes flicking up towards him. He’s got a heat behind his gaze, the warmness of his brown eyes comforting you, oddly enough. “That’s too bad.”

“But, I think I can make an exception.” Eddie adds, the fingers that trailed down your leg now sneaking up under your chin, tilting your face up slightly. “Right?”

“It’s only fair,” You agree, “seeing as I came all this way for nothing.”

You both knew it was a lie. Regardless, you would’ve ended up in this situation at some point.

“Come here.” Eddie says patronizingly, teasing you for earlier.

You pull forward slowly, Eddie’s lips barely grazing yours as his thumb runs along your chin, tugging at your bottom lip slightly to part them, his lips pressing against them gently. You press forward eagerly, nearly shifting into Eddie’s lap, but he’s quick to stop you.

“Slow,” He stresses, pulling back to look at you, half-lidded eyes gazing into yours, “we’ve got all night, right?”

You smile through a laugh, nodding slowly in response.

“All night,” You confirm, “it seems you’ve already got a few ideas to keep us busy.”

“I’ve got plenty.” Eddie says lowly, leaning forward to run his tongue against your top lip teasingly, “if you’re up for it.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” You breathe out against his mouth, “and I’m pretty competitive, so—“

“Perfect.” Eddie grins with an edge that you can’t decipher, gripping your chin between his fingers to pull you even closer, “So am I.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #my writing #perv!eddie

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Something has been bugging me since the end of the Playful land event: How does the world not notice that these people are never seen again after going to this park. Even if its stated that only the positive magicam posts are the only things that leave the park, surely those guest's families/friends/employers/neighbors that didn't attend the park wouldn't eventually notice their absence. Moreover, how does no one still on land notice that the moving park leaves whilst everyone is still on it, and it never comes back to drop them off.

Makes me wonder if Twst has some sort of United Nations that would be alerted of this and set a worldwide lock down, so when the park needs to connect to a mainland again the country's military can apprehended them.

One of the biiig question marks of both Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land are all of the potential repercussions of Rollo/Fellow's schemes coming into fruition. The stakes of these two events are notably much higher than your typical TWST event, and that opens their stories up to further scrutiny. I'll talk about GloMasq first, then Playful Land, since I feel the former is also relevant to the points the asker mentioned.

This is going to be kind of a long post, so I'll slap everything below a cut! ^^

I don't know how frequently this is brought up, but I've heard some say it's unrealistic how Rollo was able to find the seeds for a supposedly wiped out plant and cultivate a ton in secret for his master plan. Now, I'm willing to suspend my disbelief in this instance because:

Spite can make a person do insane things (and what is Rollo is not spiteful as heck)

Rollo has lore which paints him as a diligent person who has a talent for gardening, so it feels in line for his character; he also seems to have an interest in history and is extremely neurotic so I could buy that he obsessively researched until he came across records or some trail to the flowers

The Bell of Salvation's ringing twice in a row is what triggers the flowers to bloom, and this has not happened prior to GloMasq because Rollo is the one who is consistently tending to the bell + the bell normally has a preset schedule; anyone that passes by the flowers would do so when they are inactive, and they are such an old phenomenon to begin with that no one in modern day would really recognize it or the danger the flowers pose

The narrative of GloMasq never calls attention to HOW Rollo was able to get the seeds, so it's not something that comes to mind unless you as the fan speculate about it; this doesn't come across as a plot hole, but it would be one if the narrative had pointed it out because then it would practically be obligated to fill the details in

The other major logical fallacy of GloMasq is that Rollo's machinations would have inevitably led to chaos once the flowers reached the rest of Twisted Wonderland, as some sections of society are reliant on magic. Now, I disagree with the notion that mages could band together and fight back against the flowers; we've seen from how the NRC students handle it that this would be a pretty useless effort since only the super powerful (which are few and far between) would be able to muster up enough magic to overpower the flowers. The majority of people are non-mages though, so the argument could be made that these people could help the mages by weeding or something similar. The question is, could this truly outpace the growth and attack of the flowers, especially when the average mage has far lower magical reserves than the average NRC student??? Remember how long it took the NRC kids (who are mostly healthy, youthful, and strong) to weed just the flowers in the waterways? My money's on the crimson flowers just overrunning the entire world long before they can be plucked out.

I actually think most societies would still be intact and able to operate without magic, seeing as 90% of the human population (which is implied to be the predominant race) are non-mages. Only very select industries and professions require magic to operate, and these are overrepresented to us (the players) since we are seeing the perspectives of mainly students who attend an elite magic school. These magical sectors, as well as societies which run primarily on everyday magic use (like Briar Valley) are the ones that would be the most in danger. This most likely explains why Malleus in particular was so panicked about Rollo's plans: if fully realized, his people would be in grave danger. This is not outright stated, but can be inferred. The main story also retroactively affirms Malleus's fears of being powerless. He was always told by his grandmother that the Draconias have great power so they can defend their people's smiles. What happens if that magic is stripped away? Then he is no longer able to protect his people nor his loved ones. In this way, GloMasq works well as both a standalone event as well as supplements TWST' grander story. It does not challenge what we already know but does support it.

Altogether, most details in GloMasq make sense and the event doesn't go out of its way to create more questions than answers. This... isn't the case for Playful Land. In fact, I would say that Playful Land does the opposite (in trying to explain plot holes, it creates a LOT more questions) and tries to hand wave everything away with one thing: money.

Firstly, Playful Land is kidnapping and trafficking innocent people (even if the park is said to be a more recent phenomena). Would their friends and family not notice they went missing and report this to the local authorities? My guess is yes, it's just not elaborated on in the event itself since the perspective through which the story is told is limited (Yuu doesn't know this world that well + the NRC kids, who are the people Yuu gets a lot of the lore from, are mostly privileged and don't need to worry about crimes of this magnitude). I believe the "people go missing, why aren't the police doing anything about it" can maybe allude to real world crimes that occur but aren't reported or resolved, which is very scary to think about. I don't know if this was the intention of the devs, but the comparison is certainly there and can be made. Or maybe it’s just that law enforcement hasn’t caught up yet?

It’s also odd to me that so many people were able to be taken by this huge, very showy moving park. I think that Fellow lures people out under the cover of night (which was the case with the NRC students, I will assume this is the case for the other victims too), but???? Even so, there are night owls and cities that don’t sleep. You mean to imply there were zero witnesses whatsoever??? Even though Playful Land is so big and bright, especially at night… Maybe this part plays into the idea that crimes may be reported but aren’t necessarily resolved…? That’s the only way I can rationalize it in my head.

Where the bulk of the issues start to come in is in alllllll the surrounding details. For example, a lot of the NRC students Fellow is kidnapping are connected to wealthy and influential families. How the heck are Fellow and his benefactors going to keep Vil’s fans, the Kingscholars, the Shrouds, the Asims, the hypothetical Leech mob family, and maybe even Maleficia herself and Malleus, from coming after their asses???? AND FELLOW SPECIFICALLY FUCKED UP BY ENCOURAGING THEM TO “INVITE THEIR FRIENDS” FROM SCHOOL… because guess who will be spilling the beans to the headmaster about students going missing the day after inviting everyone to go to this supposedly “free” amusement park?? All the students Fellow told them to blab to just so he could catch more of them 😭 Then from there it would definitely escalate and governments might get involved since Leona is a prince and Kalim has royal relatives. I could see Playful Land having to go on the run (as in, have supplies delivered to them rather then docking for them, knowing that police or military would be there to arrest them at ports). But they can’t do that forever, especially since not being able to dock effectively prevents them from picking up new prey.

With the combined powers of the NRC victims’ families, they would surely be able to challenge the people behind Playful Land, no?? Unless you mean to tell me these mysterious people somehow have more power than literal royalty AND the Asims combined??? And we’ve never heard of them until just now??? Okay, you’re starting to lose me here because this is adding on top of the lore we already have but in a way that comes off as difficult to believe since the amount of wealth and power some of the NRC kids have is already ridiculous.

Playful Land is also supposedly constructed by very powerful mages which makes me wonder why they got together to create such a thing???? Did they literally all get bribed with enough money to agree to this project? Were they deceived about the true nature of it?? Are the other 4 of the top 5 strongest mages involved in any way??? How was this not publicized that it was a project that very strong mages were working on given how few mages there actually are and how much Playful Land is talked about in online rumors??

Speaking of online rumors, that’s another thing. How are the people behind Playful Land able to monitor any and all talk about their park to this degree?? This is the internet we’re talking about here, surely stuff will fall through the cracks or come to light eventually. Someone would leak insider info, someone would say something.

The easy explanation given for everything is that there are very rich and very powerful people running these operations. They would be able to silence people who speak out against them or bribe the corrupt into complying or looking the other way. Maybe that’s just a sad truth I don’t want to acknowledge (because this stuff for sure happens irl 😞) but that all sounds WAY too convenient for fiction (where the devs have total control over the circumstances) especially when we’re given so little lore for who these benefactors actually are.

There’s still way too many questions and even turning on suspension of disbelief couldn’t stop those questions from arising in my head. At best, I think we could give the devs the benefit of the doubt and say this was intentional to keep up the idea of a “shadowy” underbelly to Twisted Wonderland society. Even so, that doesn’t account for every little thing and the event’s attempts to explain it all only makes more things to explain.

I tried to explain my perspective as best I can here! However, I admit that there may be bias in my judgment because I’ve made it no secret that GloMasq is my favorite TWST story event. Please let me know if you have any other issues with GloMasq’s narrative or if you have explanations for the issues I pointed out for Playful Land; I would love to hear your takes too ^^

#twst #twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme #Fellow Honest #Gidel #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question

[bird-inacage]

Only Friends: Why Ray x Mew is Doomed to Fail

This show is consistently catching me off guard and I LOVE that. I was not expecting this to come out of the fallout, mostly because I didn't see Mew ever choosing this. But here we are. As soon as the final scene of Ray and Mew dancing at Yo's bar came on screen, I was wildly uncomfortable. Something felt so inherently wrong and off-kilter with this image. So let's discuss why.

Resigned Acceptance VS Active Choice

Let's be clear firstly; Mew hasn't chosen Ray. The entire exchange between them is Mew doing calculations in his head. And what he concludes is if someone loves you far more, then you don't lose out. Logically it's a far easier and safer proposition to try. (Whereas with Top, who was supposedly so out of Mew's league, has now caused Mew a tonne of insecurity because of his betrayal). Ray can't hurt him because Mew has never regarded Ray as suited for that spot.

It's with an air of resigned acceptance (and an obvious lack of any enthusiasm) that Mew accepts Ray's pursuit of him. Like a lukewarm shrug, 'Yeah. I guess. I suppose. Why not.' Right now Mew needs a distraction and here is his perfect opportunity to appear as if he's 'moved on' already. That he's unaffected. Mew is only doing all of this because he's hurting. If Top hadn't cheated, his stance on Ray would still be unwaveringly firm.

This also serves as an ideal way to punish Top. Top's reason for cheating was thinking (wrongly) that there was something going on between him and Ray. So why not rub that in his face and actually have something going on now to spite him? Top's worst nightmare manifested.

Mew Playing Mew 2.0

I had a really strong feeling this episode that Mew was trying to emanate Ray, especially with his new look. Bit by bit, Mew is denouncing everything that once made him who he was. He's trying to embrace the opposite end of the spectrum and his closest point of reference is Ray.

Ray isn't responsible. Ray is impulsive. He has everyone else taking care of him. I think in some ways Mew may envy Ray at times. The luxury to be reckless, spontaneous and have people around you to pick up the pieces. To test run Ray's 'fuck it' mentality for a change and forego accountability is freeing, it's seductive.

However, Mew 2.0 is just Mew playing 'dress up'. It's a costume and a form of armour but nothing more. Mew is not coupling up with Ray as his authentic self (and ultimately the 'self' that Ray fell in love with). The man Ray loves VS the man Ray is now dating are two different people. There's already a layer of falsehood sandwiched between them.

Ray's Glorification of Mew

In Ray's eyes, Mew can do no wrong. The way that Ray sees Mew is faultless, blemish-free, almost saintlike. Mew is his saviour and Ray holds him on a incredibly high pedestal. This puts an enormous amount of pressure on anyone who is the subject of this adoration.

When we love someone, what we really desire is to be seen for all the things that makes us painfully human. The things we hate about ourselves; the ugly, the unsightly, the flaws - for someone to know us at our very worst and still love us despite all that.

Ray's opinion of Mew means he can never truly appreciate who he is as just another person who has his faults and shortcomings. It also means Ray is likely to look to Mew to have the answers, to share his wisdom and that's just not always going to be the case.

For now, Ray may be basking in the awe of living his ultimate fantasy but I don't think he'll be able to cope with the reality being less than perfection. Of Mew being less than perfection. You've set Mew up to fail, and you've doomed this relationship to fall short of the spectacular grandeur you may have conjured in your head.

This pairing is fundamentally not on equal footing. Mew is vicariously living through Ray like some rollercoaster ride to hedonism. Ray is a means for him but not a destination.

#only friends #only friends the series #ofts #only friends meta #ray pakorn #ray #mew #raymew #mewray #khaotung thanawat #book kasidet #it's a hard no from me #this pairing gets more messed up the more i think about it #ray really thought they were bonnie and clyding it didn't he?? #you naive idiot child #i don't want it #no thank you

[mangocheesecakes]

Fraudulent gofundme's by one "Michelle Diaz" of Berwyn, IL (And connections to tumblr scammer Laura Deramas)

Tumblr user widelys

A few weeks ago, @kyra45 called out now-deactivated user widelys for sending out suspicious asks and failing to provide consistent answers to questions about their fundraiser. (As an example, they couldn't clarify whether they were raising funds for their twin infant children or for their twin sister.) (Check out key's tag for the posts documenting what went down).

On the actual gofundme page, it says that the fundraiser was organized by one Michelle Diaz of Berwyn, IL "to help out a member of the community". The link to this (likely fraudulent) fundraiser is still up and can be found here:

Twitter scams

The other day, user @hannaweeny reached out to me after finding my blog while reverse-image searching pics being used by a twitter user they believe to be a scammer. Sure enough the pics were the exact same ones used by known tumblr scammer (and proven Laura Deramas alt) sheeyancjoje. The now-deleted twitter account (@JKrismoz8405) was once more claiming to be a "homeless trans" but now going by the name "Jess". This "Jess" was using a gofundme that was once more organized by, you guessed it, Michelle Diaz of Berwyn, IL. Link here:

Thanks to hannaweeny's screenshots and links, I found the twitter account that's sharing this new scam gofundme, user @/divinesanxuary. When you look up their account, their pinned tweet is another fundraiser they claim to have created for a Palestinian woman in Gaza named 'Azhar'. The one who supposedly organized the fundraiser is, once more, Michelle Diaz of Berwyn, IL:

I have no solid proof yet that this last fundraiser is a scam, as it is dated September 28, 2023, way before the internet and communication blackout in Gaza, but the way the other two fundraisers above organized by this "Michelle Diaz" person both turned out to be fraudulent makes this third one extremely suspicious and very likely to be a scam. The twitter account that is supposedly owned by this Palestinian woman also looks very untrustworthy (user @/burner74358009 if anyone wants to look them up). If this is indeed another scam, then it's a new low for this Michelle Diaz, to use the unimaginable pain and suffering being experienced by Palestinians right now for their own selfish gains.

Google Results

(After checking these twitter accounts, I then turned to Google to see what would come up if I try to Google gofundmes by Michelle Diaz of Berwyn, IL, and here are a few more that I found that all look suspiciously similar in wording to the ones I've linked above:

Screenshots of these Gofundmes in case the links above get taken down:

Twitter user @/divinesanxuary sharing the fundraisers for sheeyancjoje/Jkrismoz84035 and "Palestinian woman, Azhar"

The Laura Deramas connection

(deep breaths everyone, I know we are all so fucking tired of her. I will make a separate post for the screenshots of what I will describe on this part, as the post is already too long. For now, this is just a rundown of what happened as best as I can recall it.)

While I was writing this post, my mutual @thewondersmith was messaging with Laura on Facebook. Laura had contacted them a while ago asking them to tell me to take down my posts about her and her scams, saying that her irl friends and acquaintances have found out about her scams on tumblr, that they were mad at her and harassing her and threatening to report her to the police, and she was being called to their purok leader in connection with her scamming. After some prodding, Laura admits that she was the one behind the sheeyancjoje account. At first, she was still insisting that she wasn't responsible for the new one on twitter that was literally using sheeyancjoje's pics and typing exactly like her, but eventually, when her whining and guilt-tripping made no impact, she also finally admitted she was running JKrismoz84035.

From that point on in their conversation, Laura admits to owning sheeyancjoje, tumbsrrplzzstop, "A Cancer Girl" that "didn't go very far", widelys, AND the most recent blog milkydonutsh, which was found to have been using a Jessa Malubay paypal account. When asked about her connections to "Michelle Diaz" and Jessa and Joan Malubay, Laura gives confusing and conflicting details, claiming that Michelle Diaz messaged her on twitter saying she can help make her a gofundme (which doesn't explain how the widelys gofundme was made seeing as that one started here on tumblr, long before this recent twitter scheme), that there was another person, a "Tom" who shared it and has a "group chat of donations".

What we were able to understand from all of this, though, is that Michell Diaz organizes the fundraisers on gofundme, presumably using her American bank and money transfer accounts, subtracts a fee for running said fundraisers, then sends the remaining to Jessa or Joan Malubay's paypal accounts, which can then be transferred to Laura's Gcash account.

While talking to thewondersmith, Laura was all cry-emoji apologetic and remorseful, explaining why she was driven to do all of these scams, citing the usual excuses of wanting to fix her mother's house, her many different relatives being sick and needing money to go to the hospital. She begged thewondersmith "not to post about her anymore" because she's afraid people will post about her on twitter and "there are many Filipinos on twitter", sent videos of her son saying Merry Christmas and even had the audacity to ask them for "a gift" as her son's "godparent". She made it seem as if she was sorry for all the scams she was running and gave the impression that she was going to stop moving forward.

Despite all this, the tumblr blog milkydonutsh, which she has admitted to be hers, made a recent update just 5 hours ago (Monday morning here in the PH), as can be seen in this call out post by @confidenceiscrucial. When thewondersmith confronted her about this new update, Laura yet again tries to deny it, saying she no longer has access to this particular account. A few minutes after their convo, milkydonutsh was deactivated.

(The details on this part are up for correction in case I misinterpreted or misunderstood anything as I wasn't the one directly conversing with Laura. Oomf, thewondersmith, feel free to add any correction or clarification based on what you know <3)

#donation scam #laura mae deramas #laura deramas #jessa malubay #joan malubay #michelle diaz #sheeyancjoje #widelys #milkydonutsh

[doctor-badadvice]

This man has not updated his wardrobe since 1947

There's already a few posts discussing outfits and symbolism and while I found them very interesting, I'm a person of strong opinions now writing two characters with chess related names. So here's my two cents (or should I say, nickels) about Bishop's appearance throughout the 2003 show and what tells us about the specific moment of his life that's being portrayed. The focus will be mainly on the palette, but also on whatever influences are behind the designs.

So let's get started!

1815 — Battle of New Orleans

Here's the first disclaimer. I know next to nothing about US history past what little school required me to learn and generically speaking, I've never been interested in the nuances of how people come together to kill each other. History classes were far more interesting to me when we talked about society and culture. So take what I'll say with a grain of salt. My military expertise here is a couple Wikipedia pages.

As far as Bishop's uniform goes, I have no idea what's going on. I read that uniforms were supposedly mainly blue with whatever color corresponded to what the unit's duty was, with the exception of musicians who had their colors swapped. If that's true, Bishop here could have been a musician having a not so great day at work. But the field medics later in the flashback are wearing the same color so it's probably just a choice to keep the color palette consistent.

Other than that, the belt would suggest he had some kind of rank. Though I don't think they were trying to be accurate past the bare minimum. I'm not going to guess what Bishop was up to in his mortal days.

Also, a special mention goes to Bishop's facial hair. He must have been popular in his time.

1870 — Creation of EPF

This is where colors start being relevant but first, another disclaimer. I appreciate the work wiki editors do, but it would be nice to have sources to whatever's stated on a given page, especially if you're providing estimated dates. I can't say I disagree, but it'd be nice to know where the information comes from.

So the wiki says that Bishop was supposedly born in 1776. It means that at the time of EPF's foundation he was nearing his hundredth birthday. No wonder he's dressing in all black. The average life expectancy at the time was about 40 years old. It's very possible Bishop had already outlived most, if not everyone he knew and it's probably something one would struggle to come to terms with.

Design wise, turtlenecks were nothing new at the time. Medieval knights wore garments in a similar shape under their armors well before the 15th century. And yes, I guess that's more of a coat than the average tactical turtleneck, but it still gives him a hitman, or even hunter vibe which is more or less what he was up to at the time.

1947 Roswell. New Mexico/present times

I can finally explain the title now. But first, let’s take a step back!

Bishop’s default outfit is the secret agent outfit™ we’re all well accustomed to. Specifically, I think the closest he takes inspiration from is Agent Smith from the Matrix movies (as I previously mentioned here). Guy in a black suit with shades, apparently impeccable self control and a distinctive way of talking that compels you to listen to him.

There’s so much to say about motivations and themes these two share, but let's focus on the aesthetic side.

These two fools are men in black. Yes, like the movies. The whole trope originates from some old conspiracy theories about the US government hiding aliens. These theories date all the way back to 1947 from some guy named Harold Dahl claiming a man in a dark suit told him not to tell anyone about some UFO sightings. Various fellow ufologists made similar claims over the years, making it a staple of their general paranoia.

Because of the second flashback, it’s possible that Bishop himself was one of these men in black, if not the one the rumors started from. It's a funny thought and I feel like Bishop would also find it amusing to watch people lose their minds about his fashion choices for decades.

Color wise, white has been added to the mix. It’s been a while now since the creation of EPF and Bishop has found some kind of balance in his life. He’s still dead set in his hatred for aliens and clearly enjoys inflicting pain on creatures he sees as undeserving of basic human decency, but he now has some purpose other than looking at the sky for something to shoot down. He leads an elite task force with men and funding devoted to developing a proper defense of the planet. He’s a foe not to be underestimated and a formidable fighter who can and will take on multiple opponents. But he’s also a very scared man who doesn’t wish what happened to him on anyone.

I often praise the show because Bishop can survive getting impaled but he still remains human. He will react with sheer violence to aggression and reform his ways when shown kindness. He will happily stick his hands in turtle soup for some DNA, but also be the best man at his friend's wedding and even attempt dressing up for the occasion despite having been deprived of normal human interactions for more than a century.

(I know it's a little cluttered in this point but I can't just leave out Casual Friday Bishop)

Design wise, I like just how an otherwise elegant attire works during the fight scenes and this detail specifically.

This man’s power is stored in the leggy.

Interlude

So this pic above is me right now.

For context, I usually consider the episodes of the staged alien invasion to the outbreak as part of the same arc. The entire situation is absolutely absurd from Bishop dragging the president into his fanfiction in response to budget cuts, to Baxter's bodily misadventures, to Bishop making a deal with a random ghost over the phone while New York is turning into yet another Umbrella Corp mishap.

But anyways we're here to judge this man's fashion taste and we have two outfits to talk about.

First off, a special mention goes to the catsuit and this pose specifically.

The sass is off the charts.

Though I find this one kind of depressing. There isn't a lot to read in it either other than Baxter grabbing the most generic tactical turtleneck for the sake of keeping Bishop from walking around bare chested (and the scene before this pic clearly shows Bishop isn't afraid to show some titty). But seeing him in all black right after moving to a new body kinda points out that Agent Bishop, leader of the EPF, is kinda on par with a piece of military equipment (and the president probably sees him as much to an extent). He's the mold for an army of supersoldiers for crying out loud.

But he switches back to the usual suit afterwards and what matters here is the supersuit.

S3 onward

Imagine being an alien, member of the starfleet of your planet and senior officer of the invading force tasked with taking over Earth. You have trained hard, wargamed the whole operation a bunch of times and concluded that it will be piss easy to conquer this underdeveloped planet.

You reach the surface, get into formation and then this nerd rolls up.

The best way to describe this suit is "hostile". It's hostile to the animators and to whoever has to stare at this eyesore before Bishop shoots at them.

And I love it. There's nothing quite like a black and red suit of armor with various cybernetics and lights to say that you mean business. It goes very well with how the stakes just start steadily rising from this point of the show onwards and seeing as the suit was ready during the staged invasion, we know that Bishop never really planned to retire after unleashing his army of clones.

It adds that extra bit of cyberpunk that I like to see and it shows that Bishop never truly gives up on anything since we have actually seen this design before.

Bishop was so proud of his Slayer he just stuck with him in spirit.

Couple that with a new coat to take off for extra dramatic effect and— maybe the president was right about not trusting him with unlimited budget.

2105 — New York apparently

Another century has passed and Bishop is still alive and kicking. Well, he doesn't kick as much anymore as it would be unbecoming if the beloved president of the Pan-Galactic Alliance were to go around kicking alien butt.

Jokes aside, you can disagree with Bishop's portrayal in Fast Forward, but they were still trying to do something meaningful with him. The idea of the turtles having to work with him when they were trying to kill each other just the other day is surprisingly deep for a season that felt the need to have the most unfunny robobutler ever.

They were clearly attempting a chess joke switching the palette to white with black streaks. Bishop has completely turned his life around and it even shows in the way he presents himself. It's nice to see just how much he managed to accomplish as well, even though it would have been very interesting to see him have a gradual change of mind, rather than selling us the concept through timeskip magic.

Does the design still hold up then?

Well, Bishop is clearly making an effort to look the least intimidating. He is fairly more patient when others don't immediately do as he says, even asking for help rather than blackmailing, and is still commendably dedicated to his job. He still asserts dominance by showing leggy (seriously, Mr President, that slit doesn't have to go this hard) and he's still deep down, at all times, ready to throw hands.

That's Bishop alright and it's no coincidence that he starts running around shooting aliens the second Baxter shows up in his life again. I'm not much of a fan of his new armor though. I think they were going for a futuristic design but it's the blandest they could think of. It reminds me of Obi-Wan Kenobi's armor in The Clone Wars but it just kinda comes out of nowhere. It would have been cooler if his tunic turned into a set of armor kinda like what the turtles got.

In any case, if you really want to see reformed Bishop really shine, you should check out @adenthemage / @violetvulpini 's art. You will not be disappointed.

#tmnt 2003 #agent bishop #oof #this was one hell of a ride #I haven't discussed anything in this length since uni #Tumblr also decided to complain about the number of pics I was adding #hopefully it won't be as much of a pain when I come around to talk about his fighting style

[paradoxcase]

Harrow the Ninth Pronunciation Guide

I keep coming back to that idea that he might have picked this name because of Caesar. It would be so funny if that was actually the case. Like, it would be like if in some future where the US had somehow ceased to exist, I don't know, conquered, destroyed, disestablished, whatever, only subject matter for historians now, etc. and some world leader was like, man, George Washington was really cool, I really admire that guy, I want everyone to think about George Washington when they hear my name. So I'm going to change my last name to George, because who else was there even who was named George? I bet this is exactly what the ancient Americans did to invoke this great man

But now I'm curious about how much of Earth's old cultural whatnot was still public knowledge 100 years after the Resurrection. Like, people don't seem to remember anything about that era anymore, but surely the people who were resurrected all knew about it, and I doubt all that knowledge just disappears in a generation. Did people know John's name back then, and its links to Christianity and at least that Gaius was a Roman name?

Ok, so, not really related to the pronunciation at all, but it occurs to me that we've now learned that Augustine and probably also Mercy and Gideon and their cavaliers would have been born on pre-Resurrection Earth and resurrected by John, since they are the founders of their Houses, right? And if supposedly all of the people who were resurrected spoke English, and English is still the operating language of the Nine Houses, they should have English names, right? Alfred is a perfectly traditional English name; Cristabel is not exactly traditional but perfectly believable as a name that someone would be given; Gideon, sure, biblical names never go out of fashion in the anglosphere, even the weird ones, for real I went to college with a guy named Cain; Augustine, well, Augustus has a fine tradition as a name, that seems like a believable variation on that. But are we meant to believe that there were English-speaking people on Earth before the Resurrection named Mercymorn and Pyrrha? I could buy Mercy by itself as a woman's name given by some incredibly religious Christians or something, but "Mercymorn" seems to be following the standard we have in these books of two part names like Harrowhark and Coronabeth and Jeannemary, which is not something that i think came from any Earth tradition. And I can't imagine anyone would have been named Pyrrha. Maybe her parents were Classics nerds, or something?

Augustine and Alfred were like quite possibly the very first people to ever have an arithmonym. How could there possibly have been any implications about any use of them at that point?

Honestly, I feel like it works much better as a reference to Pyrrhus, just in terms of names being significant in the context of the story, because of what happened to Gideon in the fight against Number Seven

It's kind of funny that she wrote a whole paragraph about this, but at no point did she actually define "dactylic enneameter" for anyone who didn't recognize the roots, as, presumably, a poetic meter where each verse consists of nine metric feet, which each consist of two unstressed syllables followed by a stressed one

This pronunciation makes me realize this is supposed to be apo + pneumatism. But the pneuma root is about movement of air. Is thanergy a force that only moves or exists or emanates/radiates due to the presence of air molecules, like sound? Is that why there is so little thanergy in space, and not just because there isn't a source of thanergy nearby? Light can obviously travel for huge distances from the source through space, because it doesn't rely on air molecules

I'm fairly certain that every other English word that derives from Greek meso- is pronounced either /mɛzoʊ/ or /mɛsoʊ/, so why is this one /misoʊ/?

#the locked tomb #harrow the ninth

[goalexstark]

Ok so one aspect of Ben’s heel turns that is interesting and I hope gets explored in the upcoming miniseries (Steven foxe actually likes Ben and is the one writing it) is that they both occur in reaction to his autonomy being severely violated.

Yes I will elaborate

His turn as the jackal comes from Warren physically torturing him to death multiple times and forcibly bringing him back against his will and his current status as Chasm comes from beyond violating his mind to the point where his own face in the mirror is something he can’t see. (don’t even get me started on how “he willingly trusted them” is a dubious claim at best. They would have had to calibrate that helmet specifically for his brainwaves and they’re a corporation. They would not do this if they didn’t think they could get away with it.)

This all leads into what I think keeps driving Ben into these heel turns is : an inability to admit when he isn’t in control. In order for him to actually heal (and not just have the symptoms fade), he’d have to actually process and face what’s been done to him for what it was. Which also means he would need to rely on someone else. that’s a tough ask to make of someone whose formative years were spent on the run alone without a consistent support system. who has had his trust taken advantage of on a pretty consistent basis. I’m mostly drawing from some of the lost years and the clone conspiracy tie ins (there’s literally a bit where ock calls him out on how the “cellular degeneration is to keep you in line” thing is bullshit to make him seem in control of things in issue #20. Also reading issue #24 and #22 with lost years issue 0 in mind makes it a great way to close out Ben and warrens relationship.)

His need to seem in control also drives his worst actions during both events too. At the end of clone conspiracy instead of admitting what actually happened, (ock’s vindictive bullshit causing Ben and everyone else to start decaying to dust) his need to seem in control causes him to double down and spread it in the vain belief that he can just revive them later.

Dark web has this too, though it’s harder to see since wells is a shitty writer who needs Madelyn to be the “hero” of the event (don’t get me started on how suspiciously similar Ben’s hallucination and the nightmare that caused her to make that deal are. Seriously don’t) after Ben’s tree rots, just when he’s been abandoned and (at least to him) soon to be discarded and locked up, Janine arrives with Madelyn’s scythe. Right there js the key to keeping them from being separated, from being locked away and forgotten. Peter might have his memories but they’ll have the city and a whole dimension. If they surrender, they’ll be arrested and separated at best so why not go all the way?

All of this leads to the upcoming two issues. ASM #47 and #48, followed by the miniseries (which will hopefully get a full series). Based on the covers and previews, Ben and Janine have reunited and have someone supposedly there to help Ben with his memories who Janine doesn’t trust. Based on the recap text, they likely have to use Peter for part of the restoration. Issue 48 only has the cover but unlike issue 47, Janine is nowhere to be seen. Based on the previews and the fact that the cover shows spidey and Ben fighting, I’m assuming the process fails and something happens to Janine, peter tries to talk but fucks it up (seriously though he sucks at talking to Ben and Janine) and Ben fights/lashes out at him but loses, leading into Chasm curse of Kaine.

Chasm curse of kaine will likely involve his efforts to continue after this devastating defeat. He’s likely to double down and play up the “monster with no remorse or conscience” angle (think faith in 5 by 5) but Kaine knows him better than anyone, even Peter. If anyone can see through Ben’s bullshit, it’s him. Cue them doing an enemy mine (bc they’re bound to have at least one instance of it.)/Kaine helping him get Janine back.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that there is a route to take his character that can make it work. Maybe not perfectly, but there is a way to tie things together and make a path forward to something new.

#ben reilly #spider man #Spider-Man spoilers #kaine parker #janine godbe #peter parker #chasm #chasm curse of kaine #amazing spider man #clone conspiracy

[schroedingers-dylan]

I feel like we as a fandom don’t take advantage of Kaitlyn and Jacob being childhood friends enough so drop any amount of headcanons for them growing up.

I’ll start:

-They live in the same street and their parents are close friends. They both grew up as the only child in the household so they’d always play with each other when they were little.

-They’ve known each other since they were in diapers and have about a bazillion embarrassing childhood photos of the other. Favorites include: child Jacob hanging upside down from the fridge in a Spider-Man costume (and the aftermath of him lying on the floor when he fell off), the time kid Kaitlyn tried to look cool in front of Jacob’s extended family but ended up falling into his pool fully clothed and the time they messed around with water colors and ended up covered in them top to bottom. Also those including several different sets of animal pajamas.

-They’ve had approximately a million sleepovers growing up, and sleeping in bed next to each other is just the most normal thing ever for them.

-Kaitlyn is super messy and Jacob is the tidiest person ever so this drives him crazy. When he’s over at her house he always starts cleaning up her room and it drives her crazy because there (supposedly) is a system to her chaos and if he cleans up she can’t find her stuff anymore. I can’t even explain why but this is just a vibe I’m getting from them.

-When they were younger, Kaitlyn was the taller one. Jacob was a super scrawny kid. After his growth spurt, it took ages for the rest of his features to catch up.

-Jacob was the first person Kaitlyn came out to as bi.

-People have been assuming they’re dating since they were twelve.

-Surprisingly, them making out in freshman year did not help these rumors.

-Jacob has called Kaitlyn in the middle of the night several times to ask her to come get a spider out of his room. She usually obliges but always teases him relentlessly about it.

-Jacob is on their high school football team. Kaitlyn goes to every game but consistently pretends she doesn’t know/understand the rules because it annoys the shit out of him.

-As much as Kaitlyn teases Jacob, the second anyone tries to put him down for being an emotional person because that’s “girly” or something equally stupid they get verbally obliterated. One of the guys she did it to hasn’t even dared to look in Jacob’s general direction for years.

-Kaitlyn is super bad at putting herself first. She’s the kind of group mom that makes sure everyone else is well-rested and has eaten and then collapses because she’s slept three hours over the last two days. Jacob knows her well enough to recognize the signs and sits her the fuck down to make sure she’s okay too because she herself sure as hell won’t do it.

-They have each other‘s stuff all over their rooms, a combination of intentionally stored and forgotten there over the years.

-Kaitlyn is an absolute menace when it comes to food. She will try anything and everything. The type to order Creole Tomato at an ice cream parlor. Has been trying to bait Jacob into getting one of her weird flavors for years. He keeps rejecting her in favor of ordering chocolate for the millionth time.

-Despite his extreme and very vocal loathing for Kaitlyn’s taste in food, he still makes sure they have flaming hot dill pickle chips whenever they have a movie night. He’s a good best friend like that.

-They ended up in different crowds in high school due to him being on the football team and her being in the robotics club. They still always made time for each other and are each other’s number one person to go to when they’re excited about something or need to vent.

-Neither of them is a morning person. Jacob isn’t a morning person in the sense that his brain doesn’t function properly, Kaitlyn isn’t a morning person in the sense that heads will roll at the slightest inconvenience. They take turns driving to school and paying for coffee.

-Their taste in music is totally incompatible. Instead of compromising and making a playlist with each of them picking half the songs, they made one together titled “favorites of yours that don’t make me want to rip my ears off.”

-They have Disney movie nights regularly. Jacob started that tradition when they were kids and they’ve kept it up since with very few exceptions. They’ve already agreed to keep them up when at college (either in person or via video call depending on which colleges they end up with).

-Being camp counselors was Kaitlyn’s idea, an opportunity to spend one last summer together before they go off to college. They’ve both been camping before (separately and also together) and really enjoyed it and Jacob loves kids (he has a bunch of younger cousins, maybe a baby brother too, haven’t decided yet) so it being a good time was basically a given.

-Jacob teased her relentlessly for picking scheduling, out of all the jobs she could’ve done at camp.

-They drove to camp together, taking Kaitlyn’s car. Jacob loaded their stuff into the trunk and organized it because *spacial awareness* and Kaitlyn told him he’s being ridiculous since they only had like maybe four bags total but let him do it anyway.

#they are so important to me #the promised not-a-shitpost #the quarry #kaitlyn ka #jacob custos #the quarry Jacob #the quarry Kaitlyn #the quarry headcanons #supermassive games #kaitlyn x jacob #feel free to read this as shippy or not by the way #whatever you feel comfortable with #I’m a sucker for childhood friends to lovers but I also think they are very neat platonically so #the main point I’m making here is that I need more content featuring them in general #for context I do not think they made out in front of anyone since that defeats the purpose of kissing practice #but I feel like one of them casually mentioned it at one point and everyone else was like ‘uhhhh’ #can’t believe Emma doesn’t canonically tease them about this if she finds out that is a crime

[wuxiaphoenix]

Book Review: Dressed to Kill

Arrrrrgh.

Dressed to Kill, by Crown Fall. I’m giving this a solid 3 out of 5 stars, because despite weird typos in the second half of the book I was enjoying everything up to about the last two chapters. At which point the author very obviously railroaded the characters and apparently forgot the key point of their own worldbuilding.

Warning, there be spoilers ahead.

(Am I salty about this? Yes, yes I am, I was having so much fun. And then....)

The main character is Gwen, a person originally from Earth, reborn into a world with dungeons and a System. This has little effect on the plot besides giving her an outsider’s perspective on how the world works, leading her to try things (almost) no one else would. Like clearing a dungeon without a combat class. Because the village she’s in shrinks and decays every day the dungeon isn’t cleared. The Noble who owns the town as Mayor won’t clear the dungeon; he appears to want the place to collapse, and the inhabitants to move to a larger city. If Gwen wants to save her town, she’s going to have to do it herself. She has a plan. First, if you’re a Seamstress, get a really big needle....

And it works, a step at a time. She finds out along the way that other commoners have had the same idea over the centuries; and in the past, it may have even been common. Something went wrong with the world. But what?

Saving the town takes priority, and for a few pages near the end they actually have-

And then Our Heroes are arrested, chained, and shipped off to the Academy where all those Chosen as Nobles are sent. Because, as the Mayor claims, if they get through that, they’ll legally own the town.

Me: Great. Except according to the rules you already established, if someone isn’t in the dungeons trying to clear them every day, the whole town will decay into the Chaos outside. And you just took everyone who was clearing.

Academy training supposedly takes at least two years. At the established rate of decay, if they’re gone a year - even if they’re gone only a month - there won’t be a town to come back to.

This is not how the story promised to end.

A story like this, with a heroine fighting against incredible odds, should end with a victory. The town should have been saved. At least for the end of the book. If you wanted to have a gloom and doom character observe how many laws they just broke and that there would be Consequences, fine. Use the Consequences to start the next book, and give Our Heroes a time limit, so they’re racing the clock to save the town.

As it is, the ending is a tragedy. And a tragedy is not what was promised by the opening of the book and over forty chapters of struggle and hard-earned success afterward.

This story, in short, did not stick the landing.

Don’t do this to your readers. Check your ending; beta-check your ending. Have another reader, if possible more than one, honestly tell you if the end is consistent with what you promised at the beginning. If you start it as an Adventure, it should end an Adventure. If your desired ending is a Tragedy, then it should begin with the seeds of sorrow clearly sown. Readers remember betrayal. Trust me.

Side note: Given in this world monster meat is not only edible but tasty and good for you, why would anyone stop clearing dungeons? Most humans are pretty relentlessly carnivorous. An endless supply of fresh meat, there for the slaughter every day? That you don’t have to feed, muck out, fence in, nurse when it’s sick, or try to keep pastured? That is worth so much investment to a society! There would be dungeon crawlers everywhere. Guaranteed.

#book review #arrrrrgh #why just why

[admirableadmiranda]

I don't think LXC hated WWX either. But people argue he stopped him from confessing his love for LWJ at the temple. I think he might have been a little embarrassed by WWXs confession and that is why he said it.

Do you think he quietly shipped them in WWXs first life?

People have rather a lot to say about Lan Xichen at the guanyin temple, much of it at this point regurgitated nonsense that completely fails to understand what is going on there because he is currently fandom's favorite villain now that bashing Jiang Yanli has lost its flavor. I'm sure eventually they'll get bored once people realize that the Lan Xichen they're talking about does not actually exist and move onto someone else who apparently is not morally perfect enough for this somehow black and white victim vs villain story.

But enough salt. I am here to be a balanced blog which means I'm going to talk about what he likely feels based on the text we are given.

I do think he is somewhat mortified by Wei Wuxian screaming that he wanted to have sex with Lan Wangji, it is not exactly the sort of thing you can prepare yourself to hear. In addition, while I am all right making somewhat dirty jokes with my family and alluding to the fact that I have a sex life, talking about it frankly in front of people is rather further than I or they would want me to go, which is where Wei Wuxian is starting.

Also note that Wei Wuxian is not actually stopped, they just go in out of the rain, Jin Ling and Lan Xichen give them what privacy they can (people who want to insist that they're being homophobic here can go eat rotten eggs, they are all being held hostage in an open temple with nowhere to go, what else are they supposed to do to convey that Wangxian can have their moment to talk?) and then Wei Wuxian goes right back to telling Lan Wangji that he loves him.

As for your second question, do I think he quietly shipped them in the background? Also nope. He had no idea what was going on. No one did. He only found out when Lan Wangji turned his sword on his own clanmates to protect Wei Wuxian, when Lan Wangji no longer cared about anyone knowing and was willing to kill to keep Wei Wuxian alive.

There is a very strong belief in the fandom that someone must have known that Wangxian had feelings for each other in Wei Wuxian's first life. I see it given to Jiang Yanli, I see it given to Wen Qing, I see it given to Lan Xichen. I'm not sure where it comes from. Even in CQL where they are supposedly good friends in their first life, people still seem to think that they don't actually get along depending on the episode. It is a wholly fanon created thing.

I made a post once calling the juniors the first people to actually see Wangxian as a couple in the novel and my opinion will not budge on that. Everyone assumed something about their feelings that did not match with reality, one of the many themes of assumptions about people's relationships and characters not matching up with reality in the book. No one else knew earlier on that their feelings were reciprocated or in most cases even existed, no one quietly shipped them in the background. Were there no resurrection, Lan Wangji would have likely been assumed to be above relationships with no interests because the one person he ever wanted was dead and gone.

Lan Xichen was not being homophobic or trying to stop Wei Wuxian from confessing in the temple. He was also not shipping Wangxian. He was doing what he consistently does throughout the novel, trying to look out for his little brother, because above all else, he will always choose Lan Wangji first.

Thanks for the ask!

#mdzs #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan xichen #proud lan stan who can read the book #asks #anon #anon asks #salty on a monday

[weirdkpopgirl]

Connection | Jisung Fic #1 (p.t 1)

Title: Connection

Genre: Soulmate AU

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1793k

Author’s Note: Hi guys, this was requested by a lovely anon. I haven’t written a soulmate au in a few years, so I apologize if this one is kinda bad. There are so many types of soulmates, but I decided to just come up with my own thing. I hope you guys like it (especially the person who requested lol). There will be a part two if anyone is curious. ^ ^

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Soulmates? Destined love? Those were concepts you hadn’t given too much thought until recently. Supposedly, a person would only know about their soulmate at a certain point in their life. The earliest age was eighteen, but the timing varied for everyone.

How would they know, you may ask? Apparently, one could hear a single thought per day from their soulmate, and vice versa. Then once they met, soulmates could form a strong bond with each other.

Pretty weird, right? Unfortunately, soulmates were rare in this day and age. But that didn’t stop people from fantasizing about them anyway. After all, who didn’t like the idea of one true love?

Your eighteenth birthday had already passed, and there were no signs of a soulmate yet. Not that you expected anything at all. You had other priorities to focus on, like getting through your first year of college.

Then one day you were in your dorm room, pulling an all-nighter to get this research paper done. You sat at your desk, typing away on your laptop quietly, as to not wake up your roommate. It was late at night, and exhaustion was finally starting to seep through your brain. Just as your eyes began to feel heavy, a deep, male voice came out of nowhere.

I’m so hungry. I should ask Hyung if he can make some ramyeon.

Slightly startled, you glanced around. Of course, only you and your roommate were in the room. Why did a guy’s voice randomly appear—that’s when it hit you.

“No—no it can’t be,” You muttered, shaking your head in denial. It was one in the morning, and your lack of sleep was getting to you.

However, you heard the voice again and again as the days passed. Maybe I do have a soulmate, you thought to yourself. How was this even possible?

It took you a while to accept this new fate. Nonetheless, you tried your best to go on with your daily life. But it felt like you were going around with this big secret. Certainly, you hadn’t expected someone like yourself to have a soulmate.

Any consistency of when exactly you heard your soulmate’s thoughts didn’t seem to exist. You would be sitting through a class, or be at work when these instances occurred. What left you confused was that you had no idea of who your soulmate was or how to find him.

All you knew about this person were the random thoughts you heard every day. So far you learned that he liked dancing, playing video games, and listening to music. You had a feeling that he was around your age, possibly a bit older. He often thought about his schedule, which led you to think he must not be in college. But you weren’t sure what kind of job he had.

No matter how you tried to not dwell on it all too much, you couldn’t help but feel insecure. If you were able to hear your soulmate’s thoughts, that meant he was able to hear yours as well. Not that there was anything in particular that you intended to hide. But you were quite an overthinker and the fact that someone else could possibly hear your worries frightened you.

┈┈

Jisung instantly knew his soulmate had been confirmed when he started to hear a girl’s voice in his head. His members may think he was silly, but he had been strangely interested in soulmate bonds for some time. He used to wonder if there truly could be a person out there for him.

Yes, he was young and had his whole career planned out. But sometimes being a k-pop idol could get a little lonely, even though he was in a group with so many members. Jisung longed to have some sort of contact with the outside world, which he seemed to have left once he became a trainee.

So when he discovered his soulmate did indeed exist, Jisung felt both excited and nervous. He was so curious about who you were and what you were like.

“Did you hear anything today?” Jaemin asked him, after dance practice one day. All his members had gathered around him.

The maknae shook his head in response. “Nothing yet.”

“Have you gotten any clues of who she is exactly?” Renjun came over to sit next to him on the couch.

“It’s kinda hard because they come so randomly,” Jisung tried to explain. “And when I do hear them, it’s all so vague.”

Chenle, who stood behind him, leaned forward.“Well, what do you know already?”

Jisung scratched his head, trying to recall. “She seems to study a lot, so she’s probably in school. Oh and she likes going to bookstores or the library in her free time.”

“Ah, so she’s one of those people who actually read for fun,” Haechan joked.

The boy shrugged, “I guess so.”

“Interesting,” Jeno mumbled. “Do you think she knows who you are?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Jisung sighed in slight frustration. “This is all so weird.”

He wished he had more clues about his soulmate. From what he’s heard about her so far, she seemed like a nice person. But the longer time passed, the more discouraged Jisung felt about finding her.

┈┈

“(Y/n)-ah!” A friend approached your table, after entering the library. If you weren’t studying in your dorm, your friends were sure to find you there.

You tore your attention away from your textbook and took one of your earbuds out.

“Oh, Seoyeon-ah.”

“What song were you listening to?” She asked as she sat down in the empty chair beside you.

In response, you tapped on your phone to show her. The song was titled, “Dear DREAM.”

Seoyeon gasped, “I didn’t know you were into NCT Dream too!”

“Well, I only started listening to their music this month,” You chuckled.

Truthfully, you had to thank your soulmate for getting you into the group. Before, the only music you listened to was by smaller Korean artists, not too much k-pop. But one day your soulmate was singing a lyric to a song you haven’t heard before. Conveniently, you had looked it up and actually liked it. As a result, that took you down a whole rabbit hole of learning about the boy group.

“Who’s your bias? Mine is Chenle,” Seoyeon giggled.

You had to think about your friend’s question for a bit. You’ve barely entered the fandom, so you weren’t used to being asked about biases and stuff like that.

“I think I like Park Jisung,” You answered slowly.

Seoyeon’s head tilted slightly, “The maknae? Huh, I thought you’d go for someone like Jeno or Mark.”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “I just feel like...there’s this connection?”

“Ooh, does Kim (Y/n) finally have a crush on someone?” Your friend gave you a smug look. “Can’t blame you, Jisung is pretty cute.”

You blushed, wanting to defend yourself. But you weren’t sure what else to say. Glancing back down at your phone, you saw the album that was playing which featured all the members. They were all pretty good-looking, but Jisung just stood out to you for a reason you didn’t know.

Over the past few days, you watched some of their content videos. The guys were so funny and charismatic, that you found yourself laughing along with them at times. You would have to thank your soulmate for getting you into their music if you ever met him. Surely he must also be a fan if one of their songs was playing in his head.

Seoyeon gave you a nudge. “(Y/n)-ah, did you hear me?”

“Sorry, I must’ve been zoning out,” You said with a sheepish smile. “What were you saying?”

“I have two tickets to NCT Dream’s fan meeting next week. We should go together!”

Wow, that sounded like such a great opportunity. But you’ve never been to an event like that before. There would probably be crowds of fans, including screaming girls. You weren’t sure if you were up for that.

“I don’t know. Don’t we have midterms next week?” You crossed your arms.

“Yeah, but the fan meeting is on a Friday. We’d be done with our exams by then,” Seoyeon reasoned. “Come on (Y/n)-ah, you should do something fun instead of studying all day.”

Well if she kept insisting, you didn’t think it would be too bad if you went just once. Seoyeon squealed and hugged you when you finally gave in.

Next week couldn’t come any faster. You were relieved to be over with mid-terms and looked forward to going to see NCT Dream with Seoyeon. Weirdly, you were a bit nervous about going. There was no explanation for it, maybe that’s how most fans felt about meeting their favorite artists.

Luckily, Seoyeon talked most of the way there and told you what to expect. The feeling of being overwhelmed was quick to consume you when you guys entered the venue filled with so many other fans. Seoyeon had gotten pretty decent seats, where you were close to the stage. Just as you were trying to calm your nerves, several screams flooded your ears when the seven boys appeared.

Almost out of what seemed to be instinct, you looked to see your bias. Of course, it didn’t take you too long to find him. You spotted the shy smile he often wore on camera, he was standing beside Jaemin. Unexpectedly, the boy’s smile dropped when he looked at you.

You gasped when you felt a sudden jolt in your heart. It was almost as if you were struck by an arrow or something. Bewildered by this feeling, you placed a hand on your chest. But once the pain started, it quickly faded away.

“Are you okay, (Y/n)-ah?” Seoyeon put her hand on your shoulder.

“I—I’m fine,” You huffed, feeling out of breath even though you hadn’t done anything.

What is going on? Why does my heart feel so weird?

Startled by your soulmate’s thoughts appearing out of nowhere, your eyes scattered among the crowd. Maybe you were in the same place and could feel each other’s presence somehow. But there were mostly girls here and—

A mix of comprehension and fear filled inside of you. Jisung. You started to feel like this immediately after you saw each other.

That was when you dared to look back at him. His right hand was placed on his chest just as you were. He was staring at you intently, with the same look of disbelief.

“No way,” You whispered, so only you could hear. This couldn’t be possible…

Park Jisung was your soulmate?!

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part two

#nct #nct dream #jisung #park jisung #nczten #nct dream fluff #nct soulmate au #kpop #soulmate au #czennie #soulmate fic

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

rate, from 1 to 10, weird Napoleonic ships that were on Ao3

I mean, what constitutes "weird"?

I am, after all, a purveyor of fine Galaxy Brained takes when it comes to pairings.

I suppose I will apply my not-at-all standardized or rigorous or consistent concept of "weird" with 1 being "whatevs/normal" and 10 being "we should marry because our brains are the same brains"

I am only taking non-real relationships. Like, no Napoleon/Josephine or Arthur/Kitty or whatever. Also no fictional things (so no Assassins Creed etc.)

Napoleon/Alexander I - 1. This is entry level Napoleonic shipping. People shipped it in 1806 and people ship it now. Weak in the weirdness category.

Napoleon/Duroc - I give this a 2 only because no one in 1806 was like "hmmm, let's make miniature portraits of them kissing". But it's also entry level. Not weak, though, because Duroc is tender and I love him. They're also a solid heart-break ship, but in a different way to Napoleon/Alexander

Jean-Baptiste Bessières/Jean Lannes - 5. Solid. They're marshals, it's going to be messy. It's going to be spicy. It's Bessieres, the man with the best nose and the biggest balls when it came to confronting Napoleon. And Jean "I call Napoleon a whore [affectionate] in public" Lannes. It's also a pairing I wouldn't have initially thought of, so points for originality.

William Pitt the Younger/William Wilberforce - 4. Not common, but that terrible Amazing Grave movie really set them up so it's less out of left field as one would think. Also Willy Pitt Jr. ran with a racy and wild crowd when young so I can see him making out with Wilberforce, drunk, at 5am and being like "it's fiiiiiine"

Napoleon Bonaparte/ Ludwig van Beethoven - FINNALLY some real meat on the bones! I give this a 9. This is a solid ship that I am now invested in, having thought about it for approximately ten seconds. Love it. Anyone who writes music for another person, only to have their heart shattered by that person, then just retitles it and is petty about it all - Glorious. Whoever over on AO3 that wrote some hard smut for these too, call me maybe?

Napoleon Bonaparte/Jean Lannes - another 1 to 2. Unoriginal. Everyone thinks of them after pondering Napoleonic pairings for more than ten minutes. Lannes was as clingy as Duroc but was feistier about it. Napoleon's heart shattered at both their deaths. Yes, yes, been there done that. Give me something weirder.

Napoleon Bonaparte/Arthur Wellesley - OBVIOUSLY I am here for this pairing. I give it only an 7 on the weird scale though because they are SUCH classic Enemies-to-Lovers that it's like...textbook. They might not have met in real life, but Arthur supposedly did save Napoleon's life on the battle field when that sniper had N in line of sight and asked for permission to shoot and A was like "we're generals fighting a battle, not assassins" or something along those lines. Also, BOY HOWDY have they met in my head. As always, any who ship them, ummmm look me up?

Alexander I/Metternich - GOOD. YES. This is a 10. This is a: hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahh I love it. Bonkers. What even! Galaxy Brain. I will say, I wouldn't read anything with them because Alexander annoys me on a personal level, but I fully respect this ship and those that are into it.

George IV/Female OC - eh a 3. Purely because Prinny is usually not sought after material, in terms of fiction, so respect for that. But it's straight and not buck-wild as a concept so 3.

Fouché/Talleyrand - OK SO YES. But the ONLY reason this isn't getting a 10 and only like a 9 is that I thought of this when I was fourteen and if fourteen year old me was like "those two old men fucked but in a hate-fuck way" then I feel like it's sort-of low hanging fruit? BUT. It's also fucking WILD because of the two men involved so hence the high rating. Fouche and Talleyrand would ROLE in their graves and this delights me.

I’ve revised my thoughts on the above - they’re a 10. It’s weird. They’re absolutely a 10 together. Eat it, Charles-Maurice. 

Napoleon Bonaparte / Sir Sidney Smith - giving this a solid 9 because of rare-pair reasons and like William Sidney Smith was a Piece of Work personality wise and so was Napoleon and the two of them just like...fucking on a boat is delightful. Also, as Napoleon's prisoner for that while in Paris, I feel like it can go to some weird dark places which pleases me. 

Alexander I/Caulaincourt - 10. THIS IS A 10. WHAT EVEN. Sorry Caulaincourt and anyone is like above a 5 by virtue of involving Caulaincourt. Bless him. Napoleon would be j-e-a-l-o-u-s and hahahah oh man. Ohhhh man. yeah. this is for sure a 10.

Berthier/Napoleon Bonaparte - Ooooh I think this is a sweet 7.5. Maybe an 8. But it's an 8 that can call me maybe?? the person who thought this up? Berthier out here defenestrating himself because of Napoleon. Heartbreaking. Berthier all overworked and under appreciated - my love for the civil service continues. Yeah. This is a little weird, a little unepxected, but I roll with it.

Talleyrand/Napoleon Bonaparte - ok so I can't decide if this is a 10 or an 8. Because as soon as I saw this pairing I was like "YES. this is it. This is Gold" but then I was like "wait, though, it makes a lot of sense. I can make this work" which lowers in the weirdness category. what even is weird. Regardless of whether you feel it is an 10 or an 8 in your soul, the person who came up with it can invade my brain and heart all they want. Gout and all.

Ok - there are endless pairings in the Napoleon RPF tag on AO3 and I've picked from the first two tabs. There were some I didn't include for various reasons (Bessieries/Duroc, par exemple) but I hope you enjoyed.

And if anyone wants to take a swing at Talleyrand/Napoleon or Beethoven/Napoleon or Fouché/Talleyrand, I'm *here* for you.

#call me maybe #some of you with galaxy brains need to come talk to me #napoleonic rpf #ask #reply #I realized this person might have only wanted ten pairings rated on a scale with one number each but whatever #anon #napoleon boanaprte #arthur wellesley #duroc #talleyrand #marshals of the empire #lannes

[captmickey]

So what you do you think of RtMI's art style?

A can of worms ya opening up here, dear anon. Considering the uh... extremely split view of the new style, so I'll just put it like this.

Short answer: I love it and find it absolutely adorable. It grew on me, what can I say?

Long answer... under readmore because BOY DO I HAVE THOUGHTS ON THE ART STYLE.

I'm gonna be totally honest, it took me a minute to get adjusted to the art style, but after seeing it in movement and seeing Guybrush looking like, well, Guybrush, I quickly fell head over heels for it. I told it to others but the style reminds me of a storybook which is very fitting since the game is supposedly taking place between MI2 and MI3, and Guybrush is telling the missing story... why shouldn't it look like a story book?

And look at it, it's adorable!

It's for sure different, it's simplistic, but also... it's Monkey Island. I don't know how to explain it, but seeing it has me go "Yeah, that there is Monkey Island", something about it gives me vibes of Curse and it might be the vibrant colors, the wacky designs, and the fact that is very cartoony. I absolutely love it. It took me a minute to get around to it, but the more I look at it, the more happy I am. Because I can look at these characters and go "Yes! That's them!"

Plus like.... look how cute Elaine is. She's adorable and I love her so much it hurts.

Now, I know that people want "the actual look" but like... what actual look? Fucking pixels? It's aggravating to me because Monkey Island has always been a game that changed its look ala Legend of Zelda or Final Fantasy, always evolving and updating its graphic with each new computer (SMI and MI2 was 16bit to photoscan, Curse as straight up 2D and EMI and ToMI were both evolved 3D).

So like, yes, the art style is different then what we're used to, true, but again, Monkey Island has never been known for consistency in terms of art style because of said evolution, a change of graphics and style is always jarring, I won't deny it, but like every style, it grows and finds its place and I think people aren't giving it the chance to shine. Pixels art is fine, but Monkey Island has never been a game to retread graphically OR artistically.

Like... look at this.

That's all Elaine, but she's in six different "looks" and everyone knows that that's her. Same here, it's a different "look", but these two pictures are of the same goober.

That's still Guybrush! As long as his voice and his wit is the same, they can have him look like a muppet for all I care because that's still Guybrush Threepwood to me.

Hearing people bitch (because that's what it is: people bitching) about it "not looking like Monkey Island" have clearly never been fans of Monkey Island. Because if they were, they should have seen this shit coming a mile away. People are entitled to not like a style, I know a few people (myself included), that aren't fans of Escape's look, some didn't like Tales, God knows SO many people laughed at SMI:SE Guybrush's hair, there's always something that someone isn't going to like, and if that includes Return's new look, then sure, you're entitled to not like it, that is VALID.

What is NOT valid, and people should feel humiliated and laughed at into the sun, is fucking harassing Ron Gilbert and the team about it. That golden rule we're taught when we're children? Got nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all? Fucking applicable here. If you don't like Return's look, that's on you, but don't go around being a fucking clown saying how it's the worst thing ever and then throw in personal threats at the goddamn team.

In short: Love the style, hate the fans who are being whiny little fucking bitches who don't know how to behave like reasonable adults and anyone that comes here to be shits will catch the block button, I don't care.

#monkey island #I HAVE THOUGHTS #SOOO MANY THOUGHTS

[cuddlyreader]

I've been watching TVD and have to agree with you that Stefan is actually a terrible person in ways that the show never acknowledges. He's so dishonest, hypocritical, self-superior etc., and I don't know if this is the writing or acting but despite all the talk about how kind he supposedly is, he nearly always comes off as fundamentally cold to me. He's "good" in a purely performative way but never seems to actually care about anyone except Elena and holds himself above everyone. And steroline was a disaster ---were we supposed to believe he was ever genuinely in love with her?! I would love to know what you love about Elena? Unlike most here, I don't dislike her! The problem is that I don't like her either---she's just kind of there, a generic, beautiful shell of a heroine who has no personality and is just kind of a plot device? I'm open to changing my mind and would love to hear what you like about her!

Ugh. I know. Stefan makes me so angry. To add to your little rant, he may care about Elena, but that is a nonissue when it suits him, and once she chooses Damon. Damon doesn't stop caring about her no matter what she chooses including when she erased her memory of them.

Now, what do I love about Elena?

I love her kind and loving heart: She instantly cares about Damon because he is Stefan's brother. She defends Caroline immediately when 1) Damon talks bad about her and 2) she finds out that Damon is physically hurting her. She tries to take care of her brother even using tough love when necessary. She tries to protect Bonnie from everything, then desperately tries to be there for her when bad things happen. She tries to keep Jenna out of everything even though it backfires. She adopts Alaric as a surrogate dad to help him as much as Jeremy and herself. She literally puts herself in danger numerous times to save Stefan even when she isn't in love with him anymore. She saves Damon when she barely likes him. She hates the thought of hurting people when she feeds to the point that she compels them not to hurt.

I like what I have said previously about Elena, so I am pulling from an old ask. You can find it below the keep reading.

Elena - Strengths: 1. Elena is strong, and I mean emotionally. She experiences horrific loss time after time and dies twice, and this girl gets up every morning and goes to school, takes care of her brother (and Jenna and Alaric), and continues to make it through. 2. She is also compassionate, as everyone knows. This is the reason she can care about Anna and Rebekah losing their mother even when they are doing bad things to her or her friends. It’s also the reason that she can fall in love with the love of her life. She doesn’t even have the capacity to hate Katherine as she is dying. For the record, I do. 3. I’m going to add a third because I want to. Elena supports her friends and family always. She encourages Jenna with Alaric. She tries to ease Jenna’s fear and guilt at the ritual. She basically takes care of Alaric after Jenna dies under the pretense that he is looking after her and Jeremy. She encourages Caroline with Matt and then Stefan and doesn’t judge the Klaroline hookup. She tries to stop Caroline from turning off her humanity and then works to help her turn it back on. She supports Bonnie with Jeremy and is mad on Bonnie’s behalf when he screws up the first time around. She consistently tries to be present for Bonnie when tragedy strikes and respectfully stays distant when Bonnie needs it even though it breaks her heart. She’s there for Stefan more than I agree with, so I’m not listing things here other than her always supporting the brothers being brothers. She knows that Damon cares about people long before anyone else figures it out. She supports him through losing Katherine, Rose dying, losing Stefan to Klaus, etc. That’s barely touching how she is with Damon, but this is long already.

#my asks #the vampire diaries #elena gilbert

[s0leander]

Boyfriend Material - Alexis Hall (2020)

This book has been compared to Red, White and Royal Blue on a few occasions in book circles, and frankly I do not understand how anyone would come to that conclusion. Everything about this book reads like a bad fanfiction or roleplay session someone wrote when they were twelve. From the one dimensional stereotypical characters, to the confusing prose (if you can even call it that at this point) the tired tropes and idea soup, it is more similar to an old "crack fic" you'd find on fanfiction.net.

The writing itself is bland and often confusing when it isn't downright boring. Thoughts that aren't spoken aloud are written in quotations right next to things that are said out loud. Two characters share a name (James Royce-Royce) with no distinction between the two in scenes where they both have dialogue. It's atrocious and- while I don't wish to rain on anyone's parade -I cannot fathom how this book has so much praise. Did all our brain cells collectively die out before we could review it or did people simply put the book down and walk away, trying to will it from our minds? There seems to be more focus on the comedic aspect of the book that I almost want to think that Alexis Hall wrote this in order to troll us all.

Let's start with Luc O'Donnell, our all-too-angsty protagonist who is reminiscent of a teenager with severe self worth and mental health issues. If an asshole is aware that they are an asshole does that make them any less of one or more of an asshole? If I had to answer in the case of Luc I'd easily choose the latter. He spends most of the book hating himself, making crude jokes, being an all around nightmare to be around, and talking to the reader as opposed to interacting with the man he apparently falls in love with. Luc's also the son of two 80's rockstars, I guess? His father walked out on them as a child which is most of what he bases his dreadful personality on. It's also a major plot point at one time in the book all the way up until it isn't anymore with no real climax or denouement, which is quite unfortunate because if this book had any depth at all it would have been interesting but that is sort of the theme with Boyfriend Material.

Oliver Blackwood is the only saving grace of this book (for the most part). He's a lot like if a singular normal person with far too much patience was put on a reality TV show with the most ridiculous people you've ever met. The stark contrast between him and all the other characters gives me whiplash at the very best of times. His vast vocabulary proves that Hall can write somewhat interesting sentiments without using yassified dated internet terminology and simply chooses not to.

All of the characters, specifically Luc's friends, some form of stereotype and have no real value in the story aside from taking up space and doing whatever Luc needs them to do for him at any given time. All of his friends have somewhat elaborate backstories that are never really expanded upon beyond getting mentioned every now and again in passing. He often ignores other characters unless he can get something out of it or needs something from them (this briefly changes and then continues on subtly) and only hyper fixates on Oliver because he can instead base his worth on a man which is inherently toxic. Luc's boss is every stereotype of a person on the autism spectrum thrown into one. The list goes on.

The vast majority of this book consists of one character being awful to everyone around him, especially the man he supposedly fancies while the latter just allows it to go on. There's no real pining, no significant conflict, no relationship building or anything to denote a true enemies to lovers arc or even a strangers to lovers arc. There is no build up to their relationship, it simply spawns up out of seemingly nowhere after Luc spends a good chunk of the book being in half assed denial about his feelings and Oliver just continues to be a semi-regular guy who's just sort of along for the ride. Why in the world is this book 400+ pages aside from the fact that the author clearly picked several ideas out of a hat and just ran with it, stringing it along together as they went?

I'm not even going to get started on how and why this book is problematic because the one star reviews before mine have done a fantastic job of illustrating that point. The concept is intriguing but the overall story felt like one long slow walk towards nothing and I am genuinely glad that it's over.

#fiction #romance #queer #book review #review #i don't mean to drag it but man #come on #bad books #book #things that shouldn't have sequels #pandemic publish #boyfriend material #alexis hall #luc o'donnell #oliver blackwood #queer romance #lgbt #crossposted from goodreads #m/m