Fiction has always felt like a place worth returning to. This blog is simply my way of leaving a few stories behind, in case someone else needs them too. Stay for as long as you'd like, and don't be afraid to leave a little note.
wednesday. PTM. oliver aiku was awake early to get ready. he first had to pick up reva from your place.
he stands infront of the mirror, not knowing who or what exactly he's getting ready for. PTM? yeah, he should look neat, he knows that. but in his mind...it's you, "what am i doing..." oliver mumbles to the mirror, sighing as he fixes his hair the last time.
when he pulled up to your place, he checks his hair one last time infront of the mirror. then fixes it again by your apartment door before ringing the bell.
you answer the door quickly, already in a rush for your shift as you go back in to call reva, telling her papa is here. it was almost disappointing that you didn't even look at him properly even when he...nevermind.
oliver crouches down to catch reva as she runs up to him, "easy there, chipmunk."
"papa, look look!" she shows her braid done, with a little butterfly clip securing the hairstyle, "ma made it!"
he smiles, placing a kiss on her temple, "ma always does a good job," he whispers.
"papa, why your hair different like that?" reva asks, tilting her head curiously.
you hurry out of the kitchen, slipping your work bag on your shoulder. but then you pause. cause you look at oliver, "you..." you don't complete the sentence.
he looked good. handsome even with his hair neat like that.
"is it extra...?" oliver asks, a little self conscious now.
"no no, it's...it's alright," you look away, clearing your throat.
oliver almost curses under his breath, almost. he remembers reva is in his arms, "too much for a ptm..." he mumbles.
reva gasps, "papa you did your hair for teacher?"
──── 🐨 ────
the teacher smiles, gesturing them to sit. oliver helps reva on the chair as she greets the teacher. oliver greets too, after settling down.
"first of all, reva's doing very well," the teacher says, "she's very cooperative, both with teachers and her classmates. she's very creative too. especially drawing."
"butteflies," oliver says, relived at the teacher's remark.
"in space," the teacher adds, smiling, "although..." her tone shifts, "she is confident. but the children won't make much effort to approach her. from what ive observed, she still feels like she's still on the outside."
"...an outcast?" oliver asks.
the teacher hesitates, "i wouldn't use that word on her."
──── 🐨 ────
"...you're serious?" you ask, staring at oliver from across the kitchen table.
after he had put reva to bed, he walked out to discuss a big thing.
"i am," he answers.
oliver had asked to change reva's school.
you sigh, rubbing your forehead, "why?"
"her teacher said she's doing well. she's cooperative. she's creative and all. getting confident too."
"then why the change?"
"because she's still being treated like...she's on the outside."
"...an outcast?"
"that's not—," he pauses, "yeah. that," he continues, "she's trying. but what's the point? why's she trying for a place that isn't really going to accept her?"
you go quiet at that.
"y/n...think about it. new school's better. will be a fresh start for her and..." he hesitates, "mika goes there."
you look down, thinking. she's finally getting confident. finally speaking up. and finally believing that being different doesn't mean being weird.
but maybe...
maybe confidence doesnt mean she had to stay somewhere that made her feel like...that.
you exhale.
"okay."
oliver feels his shoulders relax, "okay?"
you nod, "we'll change her school."
──── 🐨 ────
"maaaa," reva whines as you fix her collar for what felt like the hundredth time.
the new beginning started early. her first day at a different school.
"maaaaaaaa," she whines more.
oliver snorts from beside the door, earning a glare from you, making him raise both his arms in surrender.
the work was less comparatively. for instance, reva now had the school bus to pick her up. so first day, oliver accompanied you to outside your building at the bus stop.
"REVAAAAA," mika called when the school bus came to halt, "REVA!" mika called again. all of reva's nervousness was gone as she stepped in the bus, "reva! sit here, sit here!"
you and oliver watch with a smile from the school bus window as the two little girls settle down, giggling.
"bye bye!" reva waves.
"bye baby," you wave back.
"be good, chipmunk," oliver smiles.
the bus door closes. you and oliver watch till the bus disappears into distance.
there's silence. not too awkward this time.
"...she'll be ok," oliver assures, and you nod.
then you check your wristwatch, "god, my shift...!" you quickly hurry, back in rush.
oliver only smiles, his eyes soft as he looks at you, "...fuck," he exhales.
──── 🐨 ────
the class was a little bigger than the old school's. reva felt a little nervous. new faces. but mika had already shoo shoo-ed a boy that sat beside her, and gave the seat to reva so that they both sat together.
"good morning everyone."
the class settles, "gooooood morning sensei," the kiddos sing.
"before we begin, we have a new friend joining us," the teacher looks at reva, "reva, would you—"
"THAT'S REVA!" mika announces before she could be stopped, "WE'RE BEST FRIENDS. SHE LIKES BUTTERFLIES."
"butteflies are pretty!" a girl chirps.
"they go to space," mika adds seriously.
"butterflies can't go to space!" a boy yells.
"THEY CAN!" mika yells back.
"kids, settle down—" the teacher tries but it's of no use.
"they can in picture..." reva says as she points at one of the drawing on the wall (which was probably made by mika), of butterflies in the galaxy.
they both settle down, mika nodding agressively, and the boy realizing with an "oh."
the teacher smiles, "thank you, reva. and thank you mika for introducing your friend."
reva notices her classmates already talking about butterflies with smiles of their faces. the same topic she likes.
"reva," the teacher calls, "will you introduce yourself for us too?"
reva looks around. the kiddos looking at her. right at that moment, she didn't feel nervous. she looked beside her to see mika giving her a thumbs up.
reva smiles, standing up.
"im reva," she introduces with a smile, "hope we all can be friends!"
❤︎ summary : ending up in a weird unusual universe..or is it?
❤︎ warnings : I don’t really know what should be here..mention of blood for a moment, reader isn’t assigned a gender, you can change the pronouns and wording to your liking!
❤︎ note : this room a bit longer than it should! I apologize in advance for mistakes if there’s any, I’ve decided to make this a small series of few chapters. Any ideas I or anyone has , I could write as a seperate headcanons or one shot!
—
Waking up with a piercing pain through your head was not one of the pleasantries you enjoyed.. but you’ve grown used to it, late night studies and napping in the wrong place and clothes got you some familiarity to the pain.
But everything was too loud.. what were these murmurs around you? Did you nap at class again? Odd..your professors wouldn’t let you slack off like that.. who knows, it could’ve just been a dream! You turned around, expecting the soft plush of your bed to feel more realistic, yet you were met with a hard surface..it almost felt like a bench in a way.
Wait, bench?
With a quick reflex you sat up quickly , closing your eyes right after opening them, due to the strong light..but what you saw after was more confusing than the pain, looking around, everything was so..odd! That’s why you felt weird—you looked around breathing heavily, the murmuring wasn’t from your classmates or friends..it was these people! Why were they dressed like that? Most of all— why are you in a train station? Just where the hell were you?!
You stood up carefully not to hurt yourself further , looking at yourself, you were still in your casual clothes, was that why got you so many odd stares ? and some people weren’t even ashamed to mutter some words loud enough for you to hear when you you walked by ,
Geez, tough crowd .
So, you’re in a train station, but which one? Or Did you travel in time? Lol. Funny. You were getting overwhelmed looking around.
oh, were you in a ‘backrooms’ situation? It isn’t funny, you know. Lest there comes a monster and kills you, You weren’t a movie heroine! If this was a universe where monsters came out at night, you aren’t surviving all that. And you’ll let whoever trapped you here as a sick joke know !
Finally leaving the train station , and in the streets, they looked like old and vintage..you’ve seen it in many novels and mangas and all! You suppose you shouldn’t jump into conclusions, but isn’t this london? Old london? It looked sick honestly..
The air was cold and thick , carriages were going down the street, it was surely London.
but your brain could only function so much now..exhaustion and pain slowly overtook you. you felt something cold and heavy trickling down your head and on your forehead, reaching out and touching it, it stained your hand and fingers red..it was blood ? But how?
Was it why you were lying on the bench in the train station? It must’ve been an injury that hit you before you whatever this is—
You tried to recall how you ended up here , or if something happened but your brain was completely blanked out..
But the pain was too unbearable, holding into the wall as you held your head, Before you could continue your thoughts, a gentle and calm voice cut out through your messy thoughts,
“Excuse me…Are you okay?”
You forced your heavy eyelids up, looking at who stood steps away, it was a young man who held an umbrella, with soft golden hair and crimson red eyes..he was also wearing a suit that looked really expensive,
Your breath hitched as you stared at him for a moment, seriously..?
William James moriarty..?
You knew him, of course you did.. the second son of the late Earl Moriarty, a mathematician and, most importantly, one of the main protagonist, and..
The Lord of crime .
The irony of it all hits you at once, so you weren’t trapped in the backrooms, but in olden London days?! This could’ve been just as bad, and let alone, the first person you meet is the Lord of crime? Seems the universe just has it all up for you.
“Lord of crime..” the whispered word leaves your lips before you could stop them from leaving,
William’s eyes widened for a moment, his gentle and polite mask halting for a moment,
But you didn’t get the chance to see or hear what he’d say, the pain being too unbearable and too much, your knees gave up on you and your vision turned black.
You’d expect to be hit on the hard floor , instead a pair of steady and strong arms held you instead.
Above you, through your unconsciousness, William looked at you, your questionable clothes, the blood that was dripping from you, and slowly staining his coat at it.
A/N: whew..first chapter is done, do let me know if it’s good or not, im all up for feedbacks! Also, the mtp fandom is somewhat dead and I need more content..
Sherliam days - Soup & chicken feet or other title: William drowning in soup.
I promised friend I will draw this more than year ago and I finally managed to do it. The image of William with carrot and noodle on his face was a thing I had to draw no matter what. Also spreading chicken feet from chicken soup yummy propaganda. They get hate too much XD. Sherlock has hard live in most of my sherliam comics. I probably need to give him a break.
This quote literally lives inside me, because I couldn't relate more.
A lot of people have suffered with this type of thing, especially nowadays, where people mostly don't show love and empathy to one another. Children, toddlers, adults, teenagers have suffered with parents being their child's first bully.
As a kid, your parents became your first haters. They started to yell at you, ground you, laugh at you, hurt you. It really was different for all of us, but most of these stuff were indeed the reality. You didn't really get bothered by it, because you were just a kid, just a little kid, who had no idea how life really was. Of course, you felt bad, but you didn't really get bothered with it. You were in your own world, playing, crafting, running around, smiling, jumping around. You were completely innocent at that time. You had absolutely no idea.
Later, as a teen, things would get worse. When you just became a teen, you come into puberty. First of all, you have absolutely no idea who you actually are, and that's your first goal to find out. To find out yourself, and to be yourself. Sounds pretty cool right? Wait until you hit the phase with your unhealed parents. As a teen, you find out things that will hurt you nowadays. Maybe things that you have had in your past, or in general, the way you feel things now. And these memories that hurt now, are mostly from your parents. A lot of people now, as teens, suffer a lot with their parents, because of things that parents have done to their children. Like blaming, judging, screaming, stressing over little things, hitting you, destroying your mental health.... etc. In the start, it feels so heartbreaking, it's terrible. It feels overwhelming, you're asking yourself; "why are they doing this?" "why are they treating me like this?" "did I do something wrong?". And especially there, your first negative thoughts start to build up. These bad thoughts start to punish you mentally, even if you don't know what you did wrong. And trust me, sometimes, you actually didn't do something wrong. Parents can be like this, they can easily hurt you, because they are the first person you have ever loved. They have taken care of you, they have fed you, they brought you to bed, they were here for you. But now, because they treat you like this, you don't know how to feel. You're confused, and you're overthinking about it. You start to blame yourself more and more each day, until your mind is tired. You get too overwhelmed, you get moody, you don't know what to do. You ask yourself; "why am I like this?", "why do I do this?" "why am I thinking like this?". It's not an ending cycle. Which is sad, but so true.
As an adult, you're trying to focus on the future. Past traumas haunt you recently, but you try to overcome it and move on with your life. It still hurts, it always did, but everyone has to move on. Because everything that happened in the past, is gone now. You may still remember it, but you don't experience it anymore. Even as an adult, you still have problems. Because as an adult, a lot of people go to therapy. They go to therapy because they seek help, because these past traumas always keep coming back, no matter what. They go to therapy, because someone actually is listening and not blaming them for everything. Because they can finally let out what they never could. An adult is still stuck with their trauma from their parent, even if it's been years.
Overall in summary, these people will always suffer, no matter what. You can't even imagine what is going through their head at all. Some of them gave up completely, just because parents are terrible. There are rarely good parents in this generation who genuinely care and love their kid as they are.
And in my opinion to this quote, is that, it's getting TOO normalised in this generation, that people start to be their child's first bully. I understand if children did something terribly wrong, but, bullying them, as if you hate them? That's so disgusting. If you're an unhealed person, you should NOT have a kid, only when you're healed and ready. Because having a kid takes a lot of responsibilities and braveness. It's hard to take care of a kid if you can't even take care of yourself. But I don't think people are genuinely ready for that conversation.
hear me out... sae coming home late from training and finding reader asleep on the couch waiting for him :(
The lock clicked a precise, mechanical sound that echoed through the sterile silence of the apartment. Sae stepped inside, the chill of the Tokyo night clinging to the fabric of his tracksuit. He didn't turn on the lights. He didn't need to. The city’s ambient glow bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting the living room in shades of bruised purple and charcoal.
He dropped his gear bag by the door. His muscles hummed with the residual ache of a double session, that familiar, rhythmic throb that usually served as his only company at 2:00 AM. He’s spent most of his life in hotels or academy dorms where the air smelled of industrial detergent and ambition. Quiet was his natural state.
But the apartment wasn’t empty tonight.
Sae paused, his teal eyes narrowing as they swept the room. His gaze landed on the sofa. There was a shape there, draped in a knitted throw that had definitely been a gift from someone with far softer tastes than his own.
You were fast asleep. Your head was propped awkwardly against the armrest, a book splayed open on your chest, rising and falling with the steady, shallow rhythm of your breath. On the coffee table sat a lukewarm mug of tea and a small plate of salt-dusted edamame, long since gone cold.
Sae didn't move for a long minute. He stood there in the shadows, the epitome of cold calculation, dissecting the scene as if it were a defensive line. It was inefficient. Staying up for him served no tactical purpose. He wasn't a child who needed a welcoming committee, and he certainly wasn't the type of man who required the performative domesticity of a 'welcome home.'
He crossed the room, his footsteps silent on the hardwood. He stopped inches from the couch, looking down at you.
Up close, the sharp edges of his expression didn't necessarily soften, Sae Itoshi didn't really do 'soft', but the lethal tension in his shoulders dissipated. He looked at the way your hair fell across your face, obscuring your eyes.
"Stupid," he breathed. The word was a faint vibration in the air, devoid of the jagged cruelty he usually reserved for the media. It was just a statement of fact. You were exhausted, clearly, and sleeping on a sofa was a guaranteed way to wake up with a stiff neck.
He reached down, his fingers hovering near your cheek before he caught himself. He wasn't one for lingering touches. He preferred the clinical, the direct.
Instead of waking you, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jacket and unzipped it, the friction of the slider the only sound in the room. He pulled it off, the material still holding the faint heat of his body, and draped it over the back of the sofa.
He leaned over, pressing his palms into the cushions on either side of your shoulders. His face was inches from yours now. He could smell the faint, floral scent of your shampoo beneath the lingering aroma of the tea. You stirred, a small, incoherent mumble escaping your lips as you shifted toward his heat.
Sae froze. His eyes tracked the movement of your eyelashes. If he were on the pitch, this was the moment he’d deliver the killing blow, the perfect pass that would shatter a defense. Here, in the dim light of his own home, the goalposts had shifted.
He slid his arms beneath you, one under your knees, the other supporting your neck. He lifted you with a grunt of effort that was more about the sudden shift in gravity than your weight. You were a dead weight of sleep, your head lolling against his collarbone.
He carried you toward the bedroom, his stride long and measured. Despite the ice in his veins and the legendary apathy he projected to the world, he adjusted his grip so your head rested securely in the hollow of his shoulder.
When he reached the bed, he laid you down with the same precision he used to place a ball on a blade of grass fifty yards away. He pulled the comforter up to your chin, tucking the edges in with a flick of his wrists.
He stood there for a moment, silhouetted against the doorway.
He should go back out. He should review the footage from today’s scrimmage. He should stretch his hamstrings and hydrate. He should stay focused on the only thing that mattered: the path to becoming the world's best playmaker. Anything else was a distraction. Anything else was a weakness.
You shifted in your sleep, reaching out instinctively for the empty space beside you. Your hand brushed the mattress, searching.
Sae’s jaw tightened. He looked at his own hands, gloved on the pitch, calloused and steady. Life was a series of calculations. Logic dictated that he should sleep in the guest room to ensure he wasn't disturbed before his morning run.
But the logic of the heart was different, a subterranean ego he usually kept buried.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks, tossing them toward the hamper. He didn't turn on the light. He simply slid under the covers, the cool sheets a shock against his skin until he moved closer to you.
You exhaled, a long, sighing breath, and rolled into his side. Your forehead pressed against his bicep, your arm draping across his chest.
Sae stared at the ceiling. His heart rate, usually a steady, athletic resting pulse, ticked up just a fraction. He felt the steady heat of you, the undeniable reality of someone waiting up for him, not because he was a prodigy, but because he was 'home'.
He didn't hug you back, not exactly. But he did let his arm rest heavily over your waist, anchoring you to him.
"Don't do it again," he whispered into the dark, his voice a low, raspy velvet. "I'm not worth the lost sleep."
It was a lie, and he knew it. As he felt his own eyes finally grow heavy, the pride of the New Generation World XI vanished, replaced by the simple, quiet gravity of a man who no longer wanted to be anywhere else.
In the silence of the room, Sae Itoshi finally let the world go, his breathing falling into sync with yours until the morning light threatened to break the spell. For now, there were no strikers to perfect, no brothers to break, and no ego to feed. There was just the quiet, and the warmth, and the knowledge that for once, he wasn't playing for an audience of millions. He was just playing for this.
❥︎ witheringrosess ︴please don't translate, feed my work to ai, or claim it as your own. thank you for respecting the time and care poured into each piece.
"Because in the right eyes, you will always be someone's art".
I think I saw this quote on Pinterest and also somewhere on social media, but it really opened something in me that I have never felt before.
I think this quote wants to tell us that, the people that always thought really big of you, people that have always adored you, people that have always seen you as their comfort person or a person they want to become, you will always be their type of "art". Because, the things you do, even if they are very little and not really special, they will be inspired by that. They will always find something that they like about you, no matter what it is. Even if it's something you call ridiculous, or strange. It can also be something hard to achieve, it can be anything. But, they will always see you as their art. Which is so interesting to talk about, of how others think.
But, I think, someone can only be inspired by you, when they are a right person for you. By that, it's a bit complicated to understand, because what I'm trying to say is, those people who have never doubted you, never saw the bad in you, always understood you, can be your biggest fans of all time. Those people really try hard to be like you, or they are just so inspired by you, that it makes them so happy. And trust me, I can be also really inspired by a lot of people that I like.
There's also another side where people don't really like you, but they still are inspired to be like you, or they just like how you are. That is easily being said that they are jealous, but no, that's not it. Maybe they want to be like you, which is definitely positive - they want to change themselves. Which is really beautiful, because they may just found peace in you, maybe they see you as a person they want to become, it's really different for a lot of people. It has so many meanings, but I genuinely love it. And it's so interesting to talk about, can you tell that I love this quote?
The only thing I can say is, the people that really dislike you, like really hate and have something towards you, they won't ever see you as their art. Because, there is nothing special that you do for them, which is really something that hurts, but that's just how it is. Those little things that you do that make a lot of people feel inspired of you, they won't be inspired, because, they don't see anything special and inspiring in you. And I think that's why the quote literally says: "Because in the right eyes, you will always be someone's art". That is the point of the quote that I was trying to explain in the start.
For me, that quote really hit hard. It made me overthink my life, because it has so much deeper feelings than you could ever imagine. I really could write endlessly about this quote, it's just so amazing. It makes me want to cry, because it's so precious and so relatable. I have never seen a more beautiful quote than this. I think it's my absolute favorite of all.
⚠︎ Volume 23 Teaser Spoilers for mtp Below the Cut
Translation:
Will the Crime Lord, having returned from death, become the savior of this country?
The relocation of the Universal Trading Company's office to its new headquarters was a step toward the future, leaving behind the "blank period."
To uncover the truth behind "the candy", Herder comes into contact with one of Durham's messengers.
However, that fate also begins to intertwine strangely with Patterson's past...
As the revival of crime and the spread of the unstable element "the candy" threaten to cast a dark shadow over the future of the British Empire,
What is the "responsibility" William bears, and what is he determined to fulfill?
(a/n:I have so many theories already, but I feel like this teaser is hiding something much bigger. I genuinely can't wait for the next chapter.)
"People have beautiful things to say about you, but you must die first".
- Fyodor Dostoevsky
When I first saw this quote that Fyodor Dostoevsky wrote, I was so amazed, because of how true that is.
We don't really get to experience a lot of beautiful words from people that we care for nowadays. By that I mean is, a lot of people today don't really show a lot of empathy and emotions to their loved ones. They are more stubborn and heartless. I'm not saying that everyone is like this, but most of them that I know are exactly like this. And I feel like, it's really important to show your loved ones much more love and care that you carry deeply for them. That empathy and these kind words could save them; it can make people's day better. Many crave it, many never experienced it, many don't even know about it. We all are indeed different, we all were raised differently, but us humans, we have to improve a lot with empathy and feelings. It's one of the most important emotion that everyone has to carry with them emotionally, for one another.
Also, you can only experience beautiful words being said to you in rare events, for example; when you are having a bad day or you're crying. For me, that's the only time when people really truly tell me how they see me, how they feel about me and how they would describe me. Those kind words always makes me want to tear up every time. And I'm grateful for that - really. I'm grateful that people like that still really exist, and not just brush it away like it's absolutely nothing.
For other people, it's really different. I have seen in my own eyes that people suffer all alone. I have seen people that never really got any kind words from one another, and when I truly think about that, it's just so messed up. These people have no idea who they really are. Most of them can't seem to find out what kind of person they were, because they gave up. Because, there was no one to tell them how beautiful they are, how special they are and how worthy it is to live. They gave up, because there was no one there for them, no one could save them, and so they are gone now. Humans really can be cruel at certain times, and I hate it.
The sentence : "You must die first", I think he is referring to people that never got to hear kind words from others, that they have to die first, to experience someone saying it to them. To experience that feeling, that they have to die first to achieve their goal. Which is really terrible, but so true.
In summary, what im trying to explain, is because, when people finally decide to give up, they can only hear beautiful words being said to them, while they are not even here anymore. So, that means, they can never receive these words at all. And they probably will never know that so many people care for them, like ever. And I think that's really awful, and the most terrifying thing for a person. Because they died without knowing that they are loved and cared for deeply, just because other people don't say anything and act heartless.
Did you watch the odyssey and if so what's your opinion on it?
Yeah 😭 I watched it a couple of days ago with my parents I loved it honestly I kept spoiling everything because I already knew most of what was gonna happen from epic the Musical and Percy Jackson 💀 My parents were getting so annoyed with me lmao, but I thought it was really good
