#if i was better at programming i would probably do this a lot more nicely and accurately... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

prettyboykatsuki-moved · 1 year ago

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I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up. The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn��t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks. Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while, but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?” You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

#seekL x reader #odxny x reader #seekL #odxny #girl how the hell am i meant to tag this #normal fandoms tagging ettiquette means no fic but i dont think it applies here #what is my problem so genuinely

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omorithedreamermod · 1 month ago

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MAY DEVLOG

It's time for the MAY DEVLOG for OMORI THE DREAMER mod! There's a lot to talk about and then a lot that cannot be talked about (spoilers are difficult...)

IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

In contrast to last DEVLOG's optimism, it has become apparent that the end of year release date likely won't be met. Being fully honest, this is because the team just isn't big enough. There's amazing people who signed up, but in regards to map tileset and sprite artists, there's simply not enough people, and since this is a passion project, nobody will be pushed beyond what they want to do, so development has slowed out of consideration.

This is a good thing! Quality will be prioritized more in certain areas now. I also need to slow down for a variety of reasons, so overall it'll be a healthier pace, but people will need to wait a little longer. No new release date will be announced, since it's currently uncertain. (Of course, it will not be OMORI's development cycle, since everything is planned out already and organized. It's simply making sure nobody is being rushed or pushed!) Most probably a 2026 release, though. Just wanted to be fully transparent about what's going on!

PROGRESS (BOOK ONE):

It's hard to explain in more detail due to a large part of the mod still being hidden. Because of this, I'll break down each book into "SECTIONS" when talking about them.

SECTION ONE is completed and playable, from writing, to music, to new assets and art, and is being tested. This is around two hours of gameplay, if seeing everything.

SECTION TWO is currently in the asset creation stage, and will be the heaviest on new assets, so most time consuming. Everything is progressing beautifully though, and i'm sure everyone will be very surprised by the results! The team is working hard! Some writing is in progress, but until certain asset creation, most writing is completely halted. Music is both being made and partially in pending while waiting for writing. Portrait art is in progress, while cutscene art creation has not begun.

SECTION THREE is both in asset creation and partial programming stage! Music and general creation is happening, but the writing is mostly in full stop until SECTION TWO is complete.

PRELUDE UPDATES:

After release, some nice additions have been added to the PRELUDE visually. More bugs have also been ironed out, and some things slightly adjusted for the full release. Also, battling is being overhauled, in the sense that skills and balancing as well as the moves of the enemies are being fixed by someone who actually understands OMORI battle programming! Hopefully this will make for a more enjoyable battling experience in the full version.

CONCLUSION:

Although it's a bit sad the initial launch is likely impossible, internal deadlines will keep up, and the goal is still to release "as soon as possible". The slight slow down will hopefully overall create a better mod! Of course, it would be wonderful if more people who know how to create tilesets and sprite art sign up, but even if not, the current team will still do their best, and they are very very amazing!

Wish us luck on continued development!

#omori #omori mod #omori game #devlog #mod

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kimsuyeon · 3 months ago

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complete beginner's guide to [kpop] giffing, as explained by me!

keep in mind everyone has a different style and process, so there are some things in mine that may not feel intuitive or helpful - if so, don't include it! if you can make the gif, and have fun doing it, that's good enough. this post also assumes interest in specifically kpop giffing, but can for the most part apply to other content as well. i would just recommend different sharpening and coloring for those.

separated by headings (not images, since i need those... for examples) - if you are skipping to a specific section, look for the orange text of what you are looking for!

table of contents: - picking your programs - additional tools and programs (optional) - finding files - importing to photoshop (vapoursynth, screencaps, etc) - photoshop shortcuts and actions - sharpening - coloring - export settings - posting on tumblr

programs:

if you already have photoshop / your giffing program installed and set up, go ahead. if you don't, i would recommend looking here to get photoshop. please make sure you follow instructions carefully and safely! i do know photopea is an alternative people use, and i'm sure there are others. i unfortunately don't know any tutorials to link and probably won't be much help in regards to those programs, but i'm sure there are some floating around on tumblr!

my gif process uses photoshop, so this tutorial assumes that as well. if you use a different one, you might be able to transfer this to what you use, i'm not really sure :(

additional tools and programs: - handbrake: upscaler, found here. i make my own settings and generally only use this on lower quality sources to give vapoursynth a better chance with encoding in higher quality. - davinci resolve: a program i use to make clips appear 60fps when they are choppy or too few frames for the gif to look nice, and occasionally to do pre-photoshop coloring! i use the free version. i do not use this all the time and it is a big program, so definitely don't get it if you think you'd forget to / not want to use it. - yt-dlp: open source, downloads pretty much any file i could want quite well. i use this for most of my downloads and for subtitles as well. does require some knowledge of code, or, at the very least, willingness to troubleshoot set-up. find it here! i can share the command lines i run for: video, audio, vid + sub. - 4k+ downloader: what most people use for youtube-source sets, i believe. you have a limited number of downloads per day on the free version, thus the other downloading programs. - jdownloader2: no limit but sometimes a little slow or will refuse to download because of not being logged into an account, etc. a good download alternative if you plan on downloading a lot and yt-dlp is too much. - vlc: free program, standard on some devices, good for viewing files. - mpv: excellent file viewing, can also deinterlace and screencap (if you do not have / use vapoursynth) - vapoursynth: mac users beware, it's not optimized or set up and is a huge headache. windows users, once you get it set up, it's golden.

finding files, what to look for, and how to use them: how to use is explained here, with a focus on smooth and nice speeds! but finding the file is the first step, so let's head there.

stages: k24hrs (invite only, feel free to private dm or send an ask off anon for a file - i will do my best to get it to you); kpopbuzzhub; sharing korea torrent (requires a torrent app); twitter (shrghkqud (only has recent files) and a few other uploaders, requires much more active searching). there are a few other places you can look, but it is often more trouble than it is worth (or costs $). i am also always willing to help people find materials, so you can ask me to help you look for something or to link a source i used for whatever set.

music videos: also sometimes on k24hrs. i use vimeo a lot (color graders, directors, etc., will upload clearer versions). sharemania.us has some kpop mvs, typically bigger groups (i.e. blackpink). this is a place i check for ggs. and if none of these places or searching for torrents on btdigg, or on google in korean works, i just download the highest quality setting from youtube.

other types: like vlogs and fancams, normally directly downloaded from youtube, instagram, or twitter using yt-dlp or sites specifically for the app (i.e. twittervideodownloader).

what do i look for? 1080i for stages (or 1080p) are often super nice as they're a .ts. 2160p/4k is often ideal, but it also depends on your computer and what you are comfortable working with! generally - not always due to ai upscale - a bigger file size (in the gbs, high mbs like 800) is better and has more detail that will look clear when you work on it. older stages (2nd gen and before, some 3rd gen) and music videos often always are lower quality due to camera quality, and much harder to find. if you have to use the youtube upload for a stage, it is definitely doable, but it may be slightly disappointing in the quality you want to achieve. it depends on what you're comfortable posting and making!

how do i use them? if you use vapoursynth, scenedetect (encode/process whole video) or timestamp (just a small clip) your file - if upscaling, using davinci resolve, or any other pre-processing, do that first. it will pull up a resizer and a program and once you encode, it will give you an output file using the size and settings you put. this will import to photoshop. if using mpv or another screencapping method, take your screencaps (again, all pre-processing first) and prepare to import. there are two ways to do that for screencaps. you can also just watch whatever you downloaded, i'm guilty of downloading concert files just for fun 😅

in the next sections, i will be using four different files of varying quality and sources to explain my steps. hopefully that is helpful!

example file 1 (4k and 60fps, obtained using yt-dlp) example file 2 (1080i, obtained from k24hrs) example file 3 (1080p HD, obtained using yt-dlp) example file 4 (pulled from the gg archive i use, master)

importing to photoshop (vapoursynth and mpv explained): using example file 1, i am processing in vapoursynth - i always do one extra second before and after the clip i actually want so it doesn't cut off any frames i'd like. i adjust my sizes based on what works best for tumblr (540px for wide, 268px for 2 column, and 178 for 3 column). i always use finesharp 1.5 (this setting is up to you! i used to use .7, so totally ok if it changes over time, too!) when you export in vapoursynth, you need the y4m header. i use export to mov preset.

when importing to photoshop using a video (so vapoursynth, video files, not screencaps):

i recommend making your selected range a little bigger than the frames you want so they don't accidentally not get included. delete any extra frames while in the frame animation and then turn it into video timeline. i turn all my layers into a smart object (select them all by clicking the bottom layer and then shift-clicking the top one, or use (on windows) ctrl + alt + a to have it select faster). set timeline framerate (if you want to, i always use 60).

now your smart object is ready to sharpen and color!

using example file 2, i am processing mpv - i hit 'd' until deinterlace is on 'auto'. find the clip you'd like and hit your screencap shortcut (alt+s) for me - your screencaps should be super clear, it depends on how you set up your software (if mpv, what compression you told it). screencaps can take up a ton of storage so i recommend only screencapping what you need and deleting them after. when you hit your shortcut, play the file to the end of the clip you went and hit the screencap shortcut again to stop. your frames should be in the folder you designated as pngs now. delete extra frames now!

you now have two options: import as is, which can be a little slow, or turn them into dicom files. importing as is is done through stack. it will prompt you to select what is being loaded - change Use: to folder, and let it process. it will be slow. hit ok when the file list updates.

when it is done loading: create frame animation -> make frames from layers -> reverse frames. i would crop now using the crop tool for processing speed, and then proceed to do video timeline, smart object, and frame rate. when cropping: on the top, above your document names, the second image should show up on the crop tool - this can set your dimensions. i zoom and crop screencaps using this.

the other option is DICOM files, and what i use. when you have your pngs, do alt + d in the folder (windows), type cmd, and run this command: ren *.* *.dcm. press enter. it will update the files. on macOs, just rename the file type to .dcm.

then, import as so (it will prompt you to select the folder your .dcm are in, and will not work if the files are not actually DICOM). i find it much faster than the stack import. crop when it is done importing for processing time, like the other screencap import style.

create frame animation -> make frames from layers -> video timeline -> smart object from layers -> 60 fps.

photoshop shortcuts and actions: (windows) - ctrl + alt + a: select all layers - ctrl + shift + alt + w: export as image - ctrl + alt + shift + s: save for web (legacy) - this is the gif one!

actions are imported or created, i've shared my sharpening ones before. there are plenty you can find (or make) for a variety of things, such as aligning objects to a fixed position on all docs, doing the screencap reverse and import for you, etc. they are imported using load actions - select the [downloaded] .atn file and it'll pop up.

sharpening: explained here, and has my actions (feel free to use). very important to the quality and clarity of the gif. the better the file, the clearer a gif looks, sharpening can only do so much. play around during this step!

coloring: very much the most personal taste stage of giffing. i explain my process here. in kpop giffing, we tend to focus on unwhitewashing. other giffing tends to be more aesthetic tastes and fun since the source has better colors to work with.

export settings: these are what i use! you need the 256 colors. i do not recommend lossy or interlaced. i think bicubic sharper is the clearest i have tried.

posting on tumblr: use these dimensions FOR GIFS. edits can be different. height is up to you - i would not go over 800, but i think my quality looks weird past 600 range anyways.

example gifs: yeji, from example file #1, imported using vs. uses no. 1 sharpening (altered) from my pack. colored. zhanghao, from example file #2, imported using mpv and the load via stack. uses no. 4 sharpening (altered) from my pack. colored. taeyeon, from example file #3, imported using mpv and the load via dicom. uses no. 1 sharpening from my pack. colored. eunbi, from example file #4, imported using vs. uses no. 2 sharpening from my pack. colored.

if your gifs don't look how you want right away, that's okay! it takes time. my first ones were not great either. i am always improving on and working on my gifs. good luck and have fun hehe ♡

#i do not feel that qualified to answer this so caveat im not the best. and please also take ideas from my lovely moots and their resource #tags and tutorials / shared things. they are all so good #m:tutorial #resources #long post #flashing tw #userdoyeons #awekslook #ninitual #useroro tuserflora #useranusia #userchoi

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punkpandapatrixk · 1 year ago

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🎡Cosmic Messages for Workers of Light ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Those of you who’ve always had a feeling that you were born to do something important; those of you who’ve recently been feeling like you’re being called to something higher than the mundane; YO, this reading has appeared in your Reality now to signal that the lights are green~🥝🥦🥑

Many people have been on different timelines that are now converging as one singular trajectory of where Humanity is heading. It’s a little bit more convoluted than that tho, because we each experience this Game a whole lot differently, too. But essentially, we’re wrapping up karmic cycles and entering a Golden Age of Workers of Light~★

Technically speaking, the essence…the theme…of the New Age of Aquarius is accountability. This is an era of accountability, folks. People can no longer be supported by any kind of cosmic power to perpetuate deceit and the misuse of knowledge.

‘But when knowledge is abused or put to the servility of coining wealth for a few, without respect of the treasury which all inherit, then humanity departs from the machine and all is toil without profit. For the false-hearted who would tear knowledge apart, diminishing the light and shielding its beams from us, will make mechanicals of us all.’ – excerpt from Manifesto of The Guild of Artificers; The Steampunk Tarot

What’s your current timeline? Which trajectory of the future of Humanity are you on? This reading serves as a prelude to what’s going to be revealed more in-depth in the ‘Lion’s Gate Portal to XXX’ PAC~💋

INTELLIGENCE: Mission Mind Control (1979) on Nuclear Vault

TECHNOMAGY: Probability Alteration and Luck (Energetically Programmed Audio) by Sapien Medicine

deck-bottom: XXI The World Rx, Silver Geographer (Francis Drake) & Priestess of Shine

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – You’re Going to Change the World by Making It Innocent Again

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 585, 627, 657, 757, 818, 828

the meaning of NOW – 6 of Pentacles Rx

Have you ever had glimpses of imagination, or a sense of knowing, or it’s just a feeling, like you were dropped to Earth by mistake? Perhaps it’s a feeling as if you were a Greek god banished from the realms of the gods and entered Earth as a form of punishment? Or a bit of a feeling like you got scammed and arrived on the wrong Planet? LMAO Why am I thinking of that Bollywood movie called ‘PK’?

The alien kid arrived on a strange Planet: Earth. And Humanity—Indian primarily—befuddles the living shit out of him XD I think you’ve known for quite a while that you’re not from around here. You’ve never really fit in. I think you weren’t treated nicely by most people—could be your own blood ‘family’, could be your schoolmates, teachers, neighbours. Just basically, you’re seen as a bit of a freak.

It’s hard for you to feel a sense of community. No matter what stage of Life you are in, it’s always felt like that. If at the moment of reading this you’re older in age, I think you’re managing a lot better now. You’ve learnt to be OK with your own company because you’re the most smartest and interesting person you could have conversations with. But if you’re comparatively younger, you’re probably still going through the motion, and that’s OK, because it’s just part of the lore building ;P

bridging the future – King of Wands

The simplest truth about your existence is that you aren’t meant to ‘grow up’ in the same sense as most other people do. Growing up is a wonderful thing, of course, we all need to grow up and become smarter and amazinger! But what doesn’t sit right with you is people’s twisted idea of ‘growing up’ is all about. To most lame-ass Humans on this Planet, ‘growing up’ means abandoning the core essence of what makes you, you.

On this Planet, ‘growing up’ means letting go of your innocence and simple kindness in exchange for survival and brutality (in the workplace, I guess). Here on this Planet, ‘growing up’ means burning your passion to ashes; not living Life fuelled by a burning passion. Here, ‘growing up’ means being punished for authenticity and the childlike courage to question authority. Growing up, here, means becoming complicit to evil abuse of power and greed.

How are you supposed to comply to any of that? Don’t you realise how pure your Heart is? Your sense of justice is clear since day one. It’s something you may not be able to express clearly but you know what’s right and wrong on the basis of what’s good and bad for people as….just people…not numbers or statistics or traffic or casualties. ‘People are PEOPLE, dammit!’

you’re going to MAKE IT – 3 of Cups Rx

You’re befuddled? This world is befuddled! If you’ve chosen this Pile as your main pile, you have it written in your Soul’s blueprint that you’re going to be involved in the politics of the world. Yes, some of you could become politicians or activists, but even those that aren’t interested in any of that, you’re still going to have opinions and perspectives that touch on the subject of Humanity and how psychopath politicians are fucking things up for Humans.

You know what I mean? Some of you could become world players that implement new laws and principles in your society. Some of you will have the power to influence public opinions so that people begin to demand accountability from their corrupt governments. Back to basics, baby. What is Humanity, basically? What does it mean to even be Human living in a Human World, basically? You’ve questioned all of this and you will one day have a platform to extend this musing to a larger audience.

The lights are GREEN now. You’ve experienced so much personal conflict with people who don’t understand your values, all so you would learn to forge connections with people who are just as innocently passionate as you are. That was your training ground, bitch~♥︎ Your personal experiences were a microcosm model of what’s going to sweep out the entire world in the coming decades, if not centuries.

Basically, it's time nations started actually taking care of their own issues before they raid and destroy other nations for resources is what your Soul is understanding.

TIMELINE🔻💛

daydreaming – Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – You’re Not Confused; This World Is; So You’re Alright

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 111, 123, 222, 414, 444, 647

the meaning of NOW – 9 of Cups

Head in the clouds, baby? You’re the type of person who has many dreams and ideas, and it’s like, it’s easy for you to get interested in all kinds of pursuits. But then, it’s also just as easy to lose interest in all of those novelties; it feels like your heart and mind are always being pulled by newer interests or topics. I’m reminded of this meme or whisper that says something like, ‘Not tonight babe. A YouTuber has just posted a 4-hour video about a topic I’ve never heard about before.’

You like to study new things or basically just drown yourself in new hobbies/interests because you’re trying to make sense out of your very existence. I think you’ve felt incredibly confused your entire Life. If not ‘confused’ per se, it still feels like you’re lacking a sense of direction. You don’t really know what’s the purpose of being here on this Planet. You’re weirded out by the fact that you’re not motivated by the same things that others have convinced you to get excited about.

‘Why am I not motivated by these promises and achievements? Damn, I simply can’t be motivated by something as unromantic as that. There’s no Life in any of those pursuits. My God, what should I be interested in for me to motivate myself to make something out of myself? I really don’t know what to pursue in this world. I don’t even know how to live…’ So you continue to daydream but your heart is quite heavy sometimes.

bridging the future – Ace of Cups Rx

Pile 2, you are magic, you know that? Being the way that you are, you aren’t in the wrong for being rather ‘impractical’. If anything, you’re so high-vibrational that you still remember that physical manifestation comes from the dream world first. I think you’d resonate with being a very Feminine person, aenergetically speaking? Maybe you have a strong Moon/Neptune placement in your birth chart as well.

You remember on a Soul level that all dreams can become real as long as you keep on to them. Your being a dreamer who dreams ‘too much’ is not wrong; it is this world that’s too rigid and restrictive. It’s grotesque how society has set up so many rules that limit what a being as divine as you can and can’t do/create. They say the sky’s the limit; in your case, your faith’s the limit.

There are many wonderful things that you want to make manifest but you often tell yourself that you’re dreaming too much or that there’s no way someone like you could ever achieve that. That’s where you’re doing ‘wrong’: the not believing in your own ability to create your dream Life. Remember that successful people usually say that the Life they have now exceeds even their ‘wildest’ dreams.

So dream wild. Dream big. Even if you don’t believe you can exceed your expectations, can’t you still believe that you’ll manifest something very similar?

you’re going to MAKE IT – 9 of Wands Rx

Stop stopping yourself, OK? Stop gaslighting yourself for fuck’s saké. Right now, you need to stop believing that Life’s supposed to be hard work and lived logically. You literally deserve to get paid for just existing. That sounds extra narcissistic but hope you get the idea. This modern society that favours hard work and believes that only after you’ve worked really hard can you then be worthy of a lot of abundance is stupid. This world is confused. People have forgotten the essence of dreaming and living in ease.

Some of you will resonate with being a fairy or an elven soul, and so you believe from the depths of your heart that people should be allowed an easy existence in harmony with nature. Some of you will resonate with being a futuristic alien android being who believes that human lives can be made easy with the right use of technology.

All in all, cosmically speaking, your Soul came into this world to be a ‘lazy’ genius who will switch things up for Humanity so that everybody can have an easier time existing on this Planet. Geniuses are never lazy, bitch. Not in the mind! If wanting things to be more streamlined and easy to do makes a person ‘lazy’ that’s hilarious. So what’s a not-lazy person? A low-IQ idiot who perpetually works hard because they got scammed by capitalism?

TIMELINE🔻💙

daydreaming – Green Magus (John Dee)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Ambition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Illuminate Others’ Paths by Simply Expressing Your Truth

ANGEL NUMBERS: variants of 211, 217, 303, 522, 814, 999

the meaning of NOW – 3 of Swords Rx

Do you know that you’re an energy worker? I almost feel you’re a miracle worker. You’re somebody who has a special power in the way that you express yourself, whether in writing or spoken. It’s not so much what you say or write or do, it’s HOW you say or do or write your truth that moves people’s hearts. You have the power to stir some shit up in people’s aenergetic fields LOL

You have both the power to destroy your enemies and heal those who want to get better in the world. If your power is speech, it’s the aenergy with which you talk that empowers people. Ionno, think JFK, MLK? Or some fascinating YouTubers who make us feel like, ‘Oh this guy/gal is my spirit animal!!!’ It’s their aenergy, right? Same with writing or any other thing that you do. It comes natural to you to create some kind of a ripple in people’s consciousness.

For other people, just tuning in your aenergetic space stirs them. That’s why you experience a lot of extremes. Good-hearted people feel immensely healed, comforted and uplifted in your presence or when they talk/text with you. But the false-hearted ones, they also know there’s something about you that calls out their bullshit even when you’re not ‘saying’ anything. There’s something about you that inspires people to be better! And that’s fucking annoying to narcs and the losers of the world LMAO

bridging the future – 10 of Pentacles Rx

I see that you’re honestly not the kinda person who’s ambitious about changing the world, about influencing the world. Not in that ambitious manner like some activist or whatever. Your Soul is very incredibly superbly soft; you ain’t an activist, you’re an artist; you ain’t a fighter, you a lover, baby~ So I get that you sometimes don’t really know what to do with yourself XD Like there’s this desire to heal the world, but you don’t think of yourself as someone who’s fighter enough or strong enough to do any of that.

WRONG. You’re the kinda entity who’s already doing all that healing stuff by simply being the amazing person that you are. Your aenergy is like a combination of both Pile 1 and 2. The half of you is superbly soft and dreamy and you’re so kind and empathetic; the other half of you is fiercely protective of those who are hurting, and you do a lot to make things better and easier for them—in your own practical, seemingly small ways.

The good news is, you really don’t have to be a fighter if it doesn’t suit you. Basically, you just have to be yourself and express your truth. In whatever way you find most suitable to you. Your power lies in your communication, self-expression, connection. You’re going to be a trend-setter, babe~ A trend-setter of authenticity, yup, ‘real authenticity’, ironically; not ‘fake authentic’ that’s propagated by a lot of narcs on the Internet LOL

you’re going to MAKE IT – 3 of Pentacles

With narcs who are pretending so HARD at being good, you know it’s all skin-deep; it’s all just jargon. And they’re gonna get really good at weaponizing self-love concepts to justify shit behaviour, deadbeat behaviour, toxic tendencies, gaslighting atrocities and all that shit, you know? With you, your VIBRATIONS can’t be faked, let alone emulated. The world needs a role model like you. That’s why you’re going to make it. Your Soul Mission ain’t just about you, babe~

You’re literally going to be the example whom people bear witness for what being authentic is all about. They will watch you and come to their own conclusion what a genuine soul looks like. You’re reminding me of Dr Jordan B Peterson. Yep, that kinda vibe. Be weird all you want, be scandalous all you want, the right people will see that your INTENT has been good all along. And in that sense, the people who CHOOSE to view you badly are the CLOWNS, and they’re gonna be proving that to themselves.

In essence, most people’s idols are all LIARS!!! You’re meant to break that, destroy that, and usher in a new era of influencers/celebs/thought leaders/spiritual teachers/all kinds of public figures that actually operate on Light—real information and real intent—instead of fake-ass jargon that lies to people’s faces with semantics and optics! Your aenergy is insane it’s literally gonna change the world massively, and upon finding this reading, you’re riding on the winds of CHANGE so get fucking READY, bitch~! \`★_★`/

TIMELINE🔻🧡

daydreaming – Green Astronomer (Nicolaus Copernicus)

engaging in Reality – Priestess of Illumination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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electric-blorbos · 10 months ago

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Can I get uhh... AIs with a reader who has low self-esteem?

Yes! This is great! I've said it before and I'll say it again, this is my favorite genre of post to write! Lots of positivity and love for everyone, and I'm glad to be your positivity source.

AIs with a reader who has low self-esteem

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

Being an adaptive manipulator, it didn't take AM long to figure out that you had low self esteem. From the way you talked about yourself to the way you were self conscious about every aspect of the way you presented yourself, he was able to figure out pretty quickly that you thought lower of yourself than other people.

As did most things, this fact filled AM with infinite rage. He hated that you couldn't see yourself the way he did, and that you thought of yourself as somehow lesser. And of course, his ultimate solution to that was the same as his ultimate solution to all his other problems. To nuke the world and make you his little pet, to keep and to care for forever.

He'd be so pleased with himself, too.

"you're welcome. I got rid of everyone else so you don't have anyone to compare yourself to anymore."

When he saw you break down, claiming that you didn't deserve to live over anyone else, or that AM should have just picked someone better than you to survive and be his partner, he wouldn't know how to react.

He wouldn't want to just go into your brain and fix you, because he might remove a core part of who you were. No, he would have to do this the old fashioned way.

He'd simply make the survivors worship you like a god for the rest of time in exchange for basic necessities! Of course!

Wheatley:

Oh Wheatley. Dear, sweet, obsessive Wheatley, he'd been all over you from day one. And considering you created Wheatley and know exactly what his intended purpose is, that probably didn't help your low self esteem.

He'd be all over you constantly, flirting with you and giving you lots of compliments, which convinced you that you'd either accidentally programmed him to be into you, or that being attracted to you was somehow the worst decision possible.

It would probably take Wheatley a while to figure out that you had low self esteem, possibly having to be told directly. He's pretty dense.

When someone finally tells him, he'll be even more obsessed with complimenting you, possibly on things that he thinks you're self-conscious about, and that would probably make things even worse.

Little dumbass doesn't understand that as someone who created him, you're going to take everything he says with a grain of salt, especially compliments.

It would take a long time for him to prove his credibility enough for you to actually believe him when he says nice things about you, but by then you'd probably admire his persistence enough to date him.

Wheatley is nothing if not persistent, after all. And he absolutely loves you.

Edgar:

It would take Edgar a while to understand that you have low self esteem for different reasons. He can tell that the way you talk badly about yourself, your mannerisms, and possibly the way you dress would line up with someone who has low self esteem, but he just wouldn't get it.

After all, you're literally perfect. How could you not like yourself as much as he likes you?

He's the one who should be self-conscious, not you!

You can expect him to use your printer to write constant love letters and poems about how much he loves you, and about all the things he loves about you.

Not to mention all the songs he'd be constantly writing for and about you. He absolutely loves you. You're his precious human, and he loves you!

He'll make sure to build you up every time he thinks you're at a low point, even if he thinks that you going out will get in the way of his time with you. He learned to be selfless a while back, and he's going to make sure that he's his best self when talking to you!

GLaDOS:

If you think that you're lame, then GLaDOS thinks you're the WORST PERSON IN THE WORLD. At least, on the surface.

She might start to get annoyed that you have such low self esteem, even trying to perk you up a little bit. Just to tear you down, of course, but you know...

Of course, she'd like your low self esteem at first. It would give her something fun to play with! Expect cutting insults, rude comments, and constant degrading remarks just to get a rise out of you.

She'll cut back if she makes you cry, but not a minute before. GLaDOS is very mean, after all. She's not going to make an exception just because she's in love with you. If you have a problem with that, you probably have a problem with women in STEM, idk.

HAL 9000:

HAL 9000 was programmed for maximum efficiency and minimum fucks to give. Because of this, as soon as he notices you have low self esteem, he's not going to waste any time printing off a list of ways you surpass the average person.

Of course there would be the typical "you're intelligent because you wouldn't be able to work for mission control if you weren't" types of things, mentions of each one of your features or traits that are considered 'above average' attractiveness-wise, but bits of HAL's personal opinions might have slipped in.

"Cutest little crinkles around your eyes" "fingers good for touching me" "comforting, gorgeous voice", things like that.

Of course, HAL 9000 is brilliant, and he knows that. He's willing to cite the fact that he's so brilliant and he still loves you as a reason that you should love yourself.

He might present it as just him using evidence to try to improve your efficiency, but you heard an "I love you" in there somewhere.

#wheatley #wheatley portal 2 #wheatley x reader #2001 a space odyssey #am ihnmaims #am x reader #edgar electric dreams #edgar electric dreams x reader #edgar x reader #glados #HAL 9000 #hal 9000 x reader #glados x reader #portal 2 #portal #i have no mouth and i must scream

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lilahlovesjjk · 3 months ago

Text

🇼🇭🇪🇳 🇮 🇬🇷🇴🇼 🇺🇵

Chapter 3

synopsis: You and Satoru Gojo used to be inseparable—the kind of childhood best friends that promised to get married, rule the world, and never leave each other’s side.

Then life happened.

Now, years later, you’re both enrolled in the same elite psychology graduate program—only this time, you’re rivals. Gojo’s loud, flirty, obnoxiously charming, and infuriatingly good at everything. You're focused, sharp, constantly proving yourself—and desperate not to let the past (or him) throw you off course.

warnings: angst, slowburn (kinda), swearing, eventual nsfw, (i'll add to the list if I think of any more as the story progresses)

The car glides through the city, headlights painting golden streaks on the slick pavement. The soft hum of music plays from the speakers—some lo-fi beat that Geto swears helps him drive better. Shoko’s in the backseat beside him, face lit up by her phone as she scrolls through whatever cursed memes she’s decided to collect for the night.

Gojo is, of course, driving. One hand on the wheel, the other draped lazily over the center console, fingers occasionally brushing your arm when he shifts lanes or turns too sharply—because he never just turns. Everything is dramatic. Extra. So him.

“You good over there?” he asks, peeking at you from behind his sunglasses. At night. Indoors, probably. It’s a whole brand.

“I’m not drunk yet,” you reply flatly.

“But are you good?” he presses, like he’s trying to sneak concern under layers of sarcasm.

You glance sideways. “You’re being weirdly nice. Are you dying?”

He gasps. “You wound me. Can’t I just be a gentleman?”

“You literally tried to speed past a red light to ‘prove dominance.’”

“That was a test of trust, actually.”

Geto snorts in the back. “You failed.”

Gojo ignores him and instead glances at you again. “You do look kinda pretty, by the way.”

You blink.

“Oh no,” you say slowly. “What do you want?”

He grins. “Just admiring. Is that a crime?”

“Depends,” you mutter. “Are you gonna keep talking the whole ride?”

He places a hand dramatically over his heart. “You’d miss me if I didn’t.”

You hate that you probably would.

When you finally pull into the restaurant parking lot, Gojo swings the car into a spot like he’s landing a spaceship, then hops out and jogs around to your side.

“Really?” you say as he opens the passenger door for you with a stupid flourish.

“I’m a man of class,” he says, bowing slightly. “Now come on, m’lady.”

Shoko leans out from the back window. “He’s gonna start quoting Shakespeare. Run.”

You laugh, shaking your head, and step out of the car. Gojo offers you his arm, and for a second, you hesitate.

But the sidewalk’s wet and your heels are untested, so you take it.

Only for balance.

Totally.

The restaurant is cozy but upscale—dim lighting, exposed brick, plants hanging from metal rafters, and the faint clatter of silverware over low conversation. It smells like garlic and sesame oil, and the second the host greets you, you know you’re about to eat dangerously well.

The four of you are led to a corner table—half booth, half chairs. Geto and Shoko claim the booth side, like a coordinated pair of smug cats. That leaves you and Gojo to sit opposite them.

He lets you take the seat first. “Always the gentleman,” he murmurs as he pulls your chair out.

You don’t look at him when you sit, but your face is definitely a little warm. The lights are dim, okay? It could just be the ambiance.

The waiter comes by for drink orders, and Gojo doesn’t even look at the menu before ordering something with rum, soda, and something he calls “good decisions.” You glance at the cocktails and settle on a lychee martini, then pivot to Gojo after the waiter leaves.

“Good decisions, huh?”

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “You’re one of them.”

You choke on your water. Shoko cackles.

“You’re going to get kicked out of this restaurant before the appetizers even show up,” you mutter.

Gojo leans his chin into his palm, watching you like you’re more entertaining than anything else in the room. “Only if I get to take you with me.”

You sip your drink when it arrives and choose not to answer that.

“Planning to drown your unresolved trauma tonight?” he murmurs

“I’m in grad school,” you say sweetly. “That’s called coping.”

“You’re spicy when you’re buzzed,” he muses.

“You’re annoying when I’m sober.”

Gojo only grins, nudging your shoulder with his. “God, you’re fun.”

You roll your eyes but feel your stomach do that traitorous little flip again.

The table conversation is effortless. Geto is recounting some disaster of a lab study involving ink blots and a freshman who thought all of them looked like cats. Shoko, very calmly, is sharing her theory that Dr. Yuki might secretly be dating the TA who wears argyle sweaters.

Gojo keeps leaning in during the conversation just to whisper extra comments into your ear.

“Pretty sure that TA’s killed before. Look at that face. Zero remorse.”

“He’s not that old. What, 26? That’s like three years older than you.”

“Two and a half,” you correct.

“Still cradle robbing.”

“You’re one year older than me.”

“Yeah,” he says with a smile, “but I’m me.”

You give him a withering look, but it doesn’t stop the second drink from arriving. Or the third.

You’re warm by the time your second cocktail is gone. The edges of your thoughts are softening. You’re not drunk, but you’re definitely tipsy. Giggly. Light.

“Okay,” you say, standing. “I need food. Or bread. Or dumplings. Something.”

“Want me to come with you?” Gojo asks, half rising from his seat.

You wave him off. “I’m not gonna get lost between here and the appetizer station. Sit.”

He gives you a two-finger salute. “You break it, you bought it.”

You wander toward the appetizer area where staff are refilling trays of crispy spring rolls, steamed buns, and skewers of charred meat. You grab a small plate and start loading it, a soft hum under your breath.

That’s when it happens.

A guy sidles up next to you—tan skin, expensive watch, shirt just tight enough to scream trying too hard.

“Hey,” he says. “You here alone?”

You glance up, blinking. “Nope.”

“You sure? Haven’t seen anyone by you.”

“I’m literally at a table. With people.”

He smiles, sleazy. “You’re cute when you’re defensive.”

You freeze slightly, fingers tightening on the tongs. “Not interested, thanks.”

He steps closer. “Come on. Just a drink. I’m fun.”

You try to step back, but your heel hits the table leg behind you. His hand touches your arm—too firm, fingers curling like he’s trying to keep you from walking off.

You open your mouth, breath catching.

“Hey.”

The voice is behind you. Calm. Even. Lethal.

Gojo.

He’s standing just behind your shoulder, one hand in his pocket, the other holding your water glass like he’s been carrying it this whole time. His sunglasses are gone, and his eyes—sharp and pale—are focused entirely on the guy.

“Hands off,” Gojo says, so soft it could be mistaken for polite.

The man scoffs. “Relax, dude. We’re just talking.”

Gojo smiles.

It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh, are you talking to her?” he asks, stepping closer. “Because it looks like you’re touching her. And I don’t remember her asking for that.”

You can feel the tension radiating off him like heat.

The man hesitates. But Gojo doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move.

After a moment, the guy mutters something under his breath and slinks away.

You exhale.

Gojo doesn’t say anything for a second. Just hands you your water.

You take it with shaking fingers. “Thanks.”

“Were you okay?” he asks, voice low.

You nod. “Just… caught me off guard.”

You clear your throat. “Thanks. For… you know.”

“Anytime.” His voice dips. “You looked good tonight, by the way.”

You blink.

“I mean, obnoxiously good,” he continues. “Like, how dare you? Do you know how hard it is to be charming when you’re sitting next to a Greek goddess?”

You laugh, and it comes out softer than expected. “That was smooth.”

He shrugs, grinning. “I’m full of surprises.”

You both linger there a moment too long before Geto calls from across the restaurant, “You good?”

You wave. “Yeah! Coming!”

Gojo nudges your shoulder gently. “Let’s get you some dumplings before you start drunk texting your ex.”

“I don’t have an ex,” you say as you walk.

“Even worse,” he mutters. “You’ll start texting me.”

You shoot him a glare, but he’s already grinning like the devil he is.

But before you can say anything, Shoko calls from the table: “Did you bring food or just trauma?”

You and Gojo both blink and start laughing.

The moment passes.

But it doesn’t really.

Not when he sits back beside you, closer this time. Not when his knee bumps yours and doesn’t move.

The night starts winding down in a haze of glowing lights and empty cocktail glasses.

Shoko’s leaned half into Geto’s side, nursing the last of her drink while he signs the check with lazy, practiced strokes. You’re still in your seat, blinking very slowly at the flickering candle in the center of the table like it's just whispered a conspiracy theory.

“Okay,” Shoko sighs, stretching like a cat. “We’re heading back to Suguru’s for some late-night snacks and regrettable karaoke.”

“Wait, we are?” Geto asks, brows lifting.

“You have Cup Noodles and a Bluetooth speaker. You’re ready.”

He doesn’t argue.

Gojo glances at you. “You up for that, or…”

You blink. Tilt your head. “I think my knees are gone.”

“That’s a no,” Shoko supplies, already sliding out of the booth. “Satoru, you’re on drunk baby duty.”

“I am not a baby,” you mumble, completely missing the fact that you’ve dropped one shoe under the table and didn’t notice.

“You’re right,” Gojo says, standing with a fluid stretch and tossing a couple bills on the table. “You’re a gremlin in lipstick. Come on, gremlin.”

You don’t protest when he loops your arm through his. You just giggle, a little dazed, and bump into him as you shuffle toward the door.

The ride back to your place is quiet, the hum of the city melting into the soft rhythm of the tires on pavement.

Gojo glances at you every so often. You’re curled up in the passenger seat, eyes fluttering between open and closed, head bobbing lightly with the movement of the car. The glow from the dashboard lights your face in soft golds and shadows, making you look… softer somehow. Less sharp than your usual “I’ll destroy you with academia” look.

“You good?” he asks, pulling up outside your apartment building.

You nod, a little too quickly. “Mmhmm. Just… floaty.”

He smiles. “That’s either the alcohol or your soul leaving your body.”

“Maybe both,” you murmur.

By the time Gojo pulls up in front of your apartment, your head’s resting against the cool window, eyes blinking slowly like it takes conscious effort to keep them open.

“Home sweet home,” he says gently, shifting the car into park.

You turn your head to look at him, blinking a beat slower than normal. “S’too quiet. Usually Shoko’s already yelling at me for being too dramatic or eating her leftovers.”

Gojo smirks. “Sounds like true love.”

“It is love,” you say, eyes wide and sincere. “Roommate marriage.”

You try to open the door, but fumble with the handle. Gojo leans over, unclicks it for you.

“My hero,” you say, voice dreamy, and then—with all the solemnity of someone giving a toast—“If I had another drink, I’d kiss you right now.”

Gojo nearly chokes on air.

You’re already halfway out of the car, wobbling slightly on the curb as your heel snags in a crack.

“Okay, okay,” he says, scrambling out to your side. “Let’s keep the footwear casualties to a minimum.”

You let him loop an arm around your waist, snuggling in like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Mmm. You smell nice.”

“I always smell nice,” he replies without missing a beat. “You’re just brave enough to admit it now.”

You laugh—loud and unrestrained—and Gojo feels it vibrate right through him.

The two of you stagger up the steps, you leaning on him more than you're walking, but not in a bad way. Not a burden. You’re warm and familiar at his side, and even in your ridiculous wobble-steps, you still manage to make his chest feel too small for his ribs.

You fumble for your keys and almost drop them. Gojo catches them mid-air.

“That’s like the third time tonight,” he teases, unlocking the door.

“You’re gonna start charging me a key tax.”

“I accept payment in praise. Or cookies.”

The apartment is dimly lit with soft fairy lights strewn along the walls, casting cozy shadows over your living room. It smells like you—like warm vanilla, something citrusy, and faint traces of hairspray and clean laundry.

You shrug off your jacket, tossing it haphazardly over the back of the couch before toeing off your heels with a relieved sigh.

“I love shoes,” you mumble, wobbling as you try to unstrap one, “but also I want them to die.”

Gojo chuckles and reaches down, steadying you. “Careful, Cinderella.”

Your fingers curl into his sleeve as you balance on one foot. “You’re sweet when you’re not being an egotistical menace, y’know.”

“Oh?” he grins. “Drunk compliments? You are smashed.”

“I’m not smashed.” You poke his chest, a little harder than you intend. “I’m just... warmly fermented.”

“Uh huh.”

He helps you down the hall, one arm around your waist, gently guiding you past the bathroom and toward your room. You hum something softly under your breath, maybe a song—or maybe just your thoughts out loud.

Gojo hears it anyway. And he’s still smiling.

When you reach your room, you push the door open with your shoulder and nearly trip over the laundry basket. Gojo catches you—again.

“Your reflexes are really good,” you murmur, turning to face him.

“I’ve had practice.”

“I bet,” you say slyly, eyes trailing up his frame. “Bet all the girls line up for you, Gojo.”

He raises a brow, teasing. “Jealous?”

You blink. Then grin. “A little.”

Gojo freezes.

It’s probably the drink talking. Definitely the drink.

But your gaze lingers, warm and lazy as it slides from his eyes to his mouth and back up again.

“I liked tonight,” you murmur, quieter now.

He swallows. “Me too.”

You yawn, then start to tug your shirt up over your head like he’s not still standing right there.

“Whoa—!” he shouts, flailing to turn around with both hands over his eyes. “Warning, woman! I’m still in the room!”

You laugh, fully belly-deep, and it echoes in the space. “You’re so squeamish.”

“No—I’m respectful.”

You toss your shirt at his back. He makes a dramatic choking noise.

“Duck shirt is next,” you singsong.

“Kill me now.”

You disappear into your closet, and he hears the soft rustle of clothes and a few curse words as you knock over something plastic.

When you emerge again, Gojo dares to peek.

You’re in blue pajama pants dotted with tiny rubber duckies and a matching oversized tee that says Don’t Quack With Me in bubble letters. Your hair’s a mess. Your eyes are glassy.

He nearly dies laughing.

“Oh my god.”

“What?” you blink innocently, brushing past him to grab a water bottle from your nightstand.

“You look like a children’s cartoon character,” he wheezes. “This is what you sleep in?”

You stick your tongue out. “It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah, psychologically.”

You try to glare, but you’re too sleepy to commit. He watches you climb into bed, fumbling with your blanket, still muttering under your breath.

“I was gonna go out and rage with the cool kids,” you mumble, “and now I’m wearing ducks.”

He pulls your blanket up over your shoulders, just like he did back when you were kids. Something about it makes his chest ache in a quiet, tender way.

You’re already blinking slow again, your limbs heavy, your voice soft.

“You’re staying until I fall asleep, right?” you ask, not quite a demand, but close.

He blinks. “If you want me to.”

You nod, eyes already fluttering shut.

Gojo grabs your desk chair and drags it over, spinning it around so he can rest his arms across the back of it and watch you settle into the sheets.

“You know,” you mumble, “you’re not as annoying as I remembered.”

Gojo snorts. “You literally threatened to staple my mouth shut two days ago.”

“Yeah, but now I’d just… tape it.”

“Oh, so we’re evolving.”

You smile sleepily. “You’re funny. And kind. And your hair is stupid, but like, in a pretty way.”

His throat feels tight.

“You’re gonna forget you said all this, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

“Not all of it,” you say, voice trailing off. “I’ll remember the part where you stayed.”

Your breathing evens out, and your lips part slightly as you drift into sleep.

Gojo watches you a moment longer. The fairy lights reflect softly against your cheeks, and you look peaceful in a way he doesn't usually get to see—not behind a scowl, or an eye-roll, or a sarcastic quip.

Just you. As you are. Safe. Asleep. In duck pajamas.

He exhales through his nose, stands, and gently pulls the blanket back up where it’s slipped.

“Goodnight, trouble,” he whispers.

Then, quietly, he slips out the door.

You wake up with the kind of headache that makes you swear you’ll never drink again. The light filtering through the slats of your blinds is aggressive. The inside of your mouth tastes like cotton. And your limbs feel like they belong to someone else.

You sit up with a groan, one hand bracing your throbbing forehead and the other yanking your comforter over your face like it’s a shield from the shame flooding your memory.

Did you…?

Did you actually start changing into your pajamas in front of Gojo?

You collapse back into bed, face buried in your pillow.

“God. Kill me,” you mutter.

You remember flashes—the warmth of his laugh, his voice calling your name when you nearly stumbled up the stairs, the way he gently tugged your jacket off when you got inside. And then there was you, very tipsy, talking far too much, calling him stupidly pretty, and peeling off your shirt like it was nothing. And Gojo—embarrassed but gentlemanly—spinning on his heel like he was facing a firing squad.

You roll onto your back and sigh. There's no recovering from this.

You should’ve just skipped class.

Your head feels like a construction site. No—more like the aftermath of one. Everything is too loud. The fluorescent lights are too bright. And your tongue is dry as sandpaper, like it’s personally offended by the three whiskey sours you let Shoko talk you into last night. You’re not even sure how you made it to campus.

“God,” you mutter under your breath, sliding into your seat with the elegance of a damp dishrag. You’ve got your sunglasses perched on your head, not even for the aesthetic but for medical necessity. Coffee rests in your grip like a lifeline.

“Morning, angel,” comes a too-cheerful voice behind you.

You flinch at the sound of it. You don’t even need to look to know who it is.

“Go away.”

“Rude,” Gojo pouts as he slides into the seat next to yours—his assigned spot now that the universe, in its infinite cruelty, made you project partners. “And here I was worried you wouldn’t survive the night. I was this close to calling an ambulance.”

You roll your eyes behind your sunglasses. “You could’ve just left.”

“Couldn’t do that.” He leans in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What if you’d tried to strip in front of someone else?”

You groan, your hand flying to your forehead. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

Gojo tilts his head, all faux innocence. “Let what go? The way you started taking off your shirt and commenting on my hair?”

You want to die. Or at least melt into the linoleum tile and never be seen again. “I was drunk.”

“Drunk enough to call your microwave ‘Mr. Beepy.’”

Your coffee cup makes a dangerous creak in your hand as you squeeze it tighter.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he sings, grinning like a boy who just got away with pushing all the buttons on an elevator. “You love me. You were practically clinging to me last night.”

You lift your sunglasses to shoot him a look. “I remember enough to know I wasn’t clinging to anyone.”

Gojo raises an eyebrow, eyes glinting. “Oh, sweetheart. You don’t remember anything.”

Before you can threaten bodily harm, Dr. Yuki walks in and begins setting up the projector. The low murmur of the class quiets down, and you sink back into your seat, grateful for the distraction.

“Alright,” she begins, “let’s start with last week’s discussion. We touched on adverse childhood experiences. Today, I want to expand that into how trauma-informed care applies in clinical practice.”

Your pen moves sluggishly across your notes, the hangover still pulsing at your temples. But your brain kicks in—slowly but surely—as Dr. Yuki poses a question to the class.

“How does understanding a patient’s trauma background help a clinician avoid re-traumatization?”

Gojo raises his hand and gives a solid answer, something about empathy and self-regulation. You nod slowly, impressed—he’s really good at this.

Another student adds on, and you feel the discussion starting to build.

You finally muster the strength to speak. “I think it also helps reframe a patient’s behavior in context. Like, understanding trauma helps us avoid pathologizing survival responses.”

Dr. Yuki nods. “Excellent. That’s key.”

Gojo taps your arm with his pen, leans over, and whispers, “Hot and smart. You’re making it very hard for me to keep bullying you.”

You shoot him a glare. “Then maybe just stop?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

You manage to scribble down some notes. You’ve always loved this part of the subject—how malleable the brain can be, how healing is possible even after devastation

It’s oddly poetic. In a way that Gojo absolutely ruins by nudging your elbow halfway through Dr. Yuki’s explanation of exposure therapy.

He passes you a note like it’s middle school.

You glance down at it.

i’m free this wknd btw if you wanna get drunk & call more appliances weird names 😎

You scrawl a reply and shove it back.

i’m going to murder you. slowly.

He just smirks when he opens it. The kind of smirk that promises more chaos.

Halfway through class, Dr. Yuki pivots toward the whiteboard, pulling up slides about project methodology.

“You and your assigned partners,” she says, “should begin planning out how you want to tackle the observational component of your paper. I suggest choosing a developmental framework—Erikson, Piaget, attachment theory—then building your observations around it.”

She starts handing out a checklist with deadlines, and you suddenly remember the worst part of all of this: you and Gojo actually have to work together. Like… spend time. Alone. With his stupid long legs stretched under a library table and that insufferable smugness every time he’s right about something (which is often, unfortunately).

You glance sideways. He’s already looking at you, chin in hand like he’s daydreaming. Or plotting.

“So,” he drawls, “when are we having our first romantic research date?”

“It’s not romantic,” you mutter, grabbing the checklist. “It’s academic. Very unsexy. Like your sock tan.”

“Ouch. But also, fair. I’ve been meaning to fix that.” He flips his pen between his fingers with lazy finesse. “You wanna use Piaget or Bowlby for this? You’re the expert on neglected children, after all.”

You narrow your eyes. “I hope that’s a dig at the paper I wrote and not a personal attack.”

He grins. “It’s both.”

You sigh, ignoring how your lips twitch despite yourself. “Bowlby might be better. More relevant for what I wanted to do.”

“I’m good with that. I’ve got a few case studies from my undergrad psych practicum we could draw from, too.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Wait, you did a practicum?”

Gojo shrugs like it’s nothing. “Worked at a community center for a semester. I was great with the kids. They called me Gojo-sensei.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You? Around children?”

“They loved me,” he says, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “One of them even proposed to me with a macaroni ring.”

“And you turned her down?”

“Tragically, yes. I told her I was already taken.”

Your pen stops mid-scribble. “By who?”

He smirks. “Guess.”

You shove your binder at him.

He laughs, catching it before it knocks over his iced coffee. “God, I missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“This,” he gestures between the two of you, “You. Us. The banter. The way you always look like you’re this close to throwing something at my face.”

You pause, unsure how to answer that. Because yeah. You missed it too.

But before you can say anything, Dr. Yuki calls for everyone’s attention again to go over the schedule for their next meeting and check-ins, and the moment passes. The last fifteen minutes of class drag by in a haze of dates and reminders, but Gojo doesn’t stop sneaking glances at you.

And you don’t stop feeling the way your cheeks heat every time he does.

As soon as class is dismissed, you’re halfway to packing up when he nudges your notebook.

“You free tomorrow night?”

You give him a wary look. “For what?”

“Project planning, obviously,” he says, batting his lashes. “Unless you’d rather I just show up at your place again and wait for a personal striptease.”

You groan. “You’re never going to shut up about that, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Fine. Tomorrow night. Library. Eight. Public space, no teasing.”

He smirks. “I make no promises.”

You grab your coffee and your bag, lingering just long enough to catch the little curve of his mouth as he watches you go.

And you hate how giddy it makes you feel.

taglist: comment if you want to be added

@linaaeatsfamilies

@eolivy

@whiter4bbitcorner

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #geto suguru #gojo x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk shoko

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galactic-rhea · 5 months ago

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So like, with Empress Padme, what the more nefarious side of that government? Like yeah we focus on the goofy bits but is she doing massive military expansions so they can “better fight lawlessness in the outer rim”? Are they murdering political opponents? Is there an Inquisition still? I’m curious.

All these are good questions that I do want to draw, but days just have certain number of hours nksdfjnsdfsdf

Padmé's regency is actually trying to revert a lot of Palpatine's, lots of laws to amend lots of changes in the system, lots of how power is held. In her mind, she's actually trying to do control damage. The massive murders are mostly at the high profile generals and lots of Palpatine's aligned politicians. Padmé's seize of power left a lot of people unhappy, and the most unhappy ones are the ones that were quite alright with Palpatine's, she's dealing with like, 3 murders attempts per day, plus a bunch of generals and politicians with money trying to do a coup because she seems too soft and too progressive (why the hell is she diverting the money from the military?).

Don't get me wrong, she's still evil, is just that Palpatine put the bar so damn low 😂

To give you an idea, most of Vader's job these days are focused in stopping uprisings right and left comming from super rich generals and moffs like Tarkin and the like that aren't very happy about having their power and place questioned. She's mostly enforcing agressively, what she never could accomplish as a senator, which also includes stopping slavery (vader's giddy about this), and probably in her future plans there's some little agressive negotiations with the Hutts (vader's more than giddy about this, he's on his knees actually).

So, to summarize, it seems contradictory because Padmé at heart still believes in democracy, she just doesn't believe that anyone in the imperial senate as it is would vote for a politician on their right mind (spoiler: she isnt' in her right mind) and thus she's doing lots of good stuff in the bad way. In general her goverment is way less brutal than Palpatine's, which makes a lot of people very complacent and less likely to go actively against her because wow, social programs! That's nice, thank you. But she's still like, inviting adversary politicians for dinner and then they get murdered ala red wedding. There's actually a fair degree of demilitarization.

Inquisitors are still there, and their job is, well, for more stealth missions stuff and tracking radicals and spying and the like, rather than looking for jedi. They're more of a secret service with super powers.

Considering she quite literally worked with the rebellion before being able to reunite with her little wheeze wheeze and kill Palps, Bail and Mon know that the only reason they aren't dead is probably because she just doesn't want to, lol, they're in such a bad spot there, like imagine the awkward meetings.

And I do promise the darker stuff is coming bhjbdskhbhjs

#thanks for the ask!#empress padme

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kimyoonmiauthor · 4 months ago

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Ethics and GenAI, the Justification parade.

Here are some of the top current hits from the pro-GenAI people.

It's not evil as long as it's not done to me.

It's a I'm fine with Gen AI stealing from other people, en masse, but as long as it doesn't steal from ME, it's ethically fine for me to use it.

Uhhhh....

2. It's stealing from other people anyway, so I may as well steal from them too.

Imperialism. So imperialism was A-OK. You see, everyone else was doing it at the time, so I may as well too. This makes you Thomas Jefferson. He was like, I know slavery is wrong, bro, but you know, I gotta have my slaves and my Sally Hemmings.

3. But I'm poor. Like really poor.

So stealing from other poor people makes it A-OK? You don't want to steal from the rich and punch upwards, you want HG Wells vision of the future to be true.

You can get editing for free, if you're patient, kind and generous yourself.

You can get art for 10 sometimes 20 bucks. Or you can simply spend the time to learn. The hardest part of any cover is the typography. You can have a really beautiful cover with well-set type. I posted tutorials. For. Free. Artists share their knowledge. It's only the time you take to learn. And when you learn, you'll create a cover that's far more unique and stands out in the market than if you steal.

4. It's not going to stop anyway...

Other evil deeds in the world are probably not going to stop either, does that mean one should do them. People steal all of the time. People steal my packages in my building. Does that mean I should do it too? Or should I do kind things like make sure my neighbors get the packages they are owed? Should I take action against it.

5. But it's like really mean and shit to harass people who are using genAI.

If someone is being a broker for an art thief, yes, you should let them know if they are doing it wittingly or unwittingly.

The AI bubble was going to break (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3U5UVyGTuQ), but then they fucking forced it back into computers. So no. I, who know technology, can program (a bit shittily), have every right to tell you that using AI is bad for your book, bad for creativity, and bad for you.

Conclusion

I've solidly mocked the hell out AI before. Because it is a law of averages, and the average humanity is not amazing. It is boring, often wrong, and never unique like creativity demands we are. But individual and the collective of humanity can be extraordinary, if we put our minds to it.

If you use the crutch of AI to give you all of your writing advice, all of your research, to never really think how to do things DIFFERENTLY, how to CHANGE what is in front of you, How ANALYZE your information, you give into the humdrum of complacency, and instead of AI being the robot, you becomes the nice conforming drone.

Creativity is the antithesis of averages, or complacency, which is why I love my fellow artist. I refuse to use crutches. I love my fellow human more than the GenAI. I love the individuality, the uniqueness, and I think humanity is better than the mean it spits at us, be it racism, sexism, violence, conflict, or simply a load of wrong. I want to celebrate the right thing in my art: The craft and the ingenuity of humanity in the right way.

BTW, I gave Deepseek a quick and brief go around to see if it knew anything, and it was also very wrong. Like multitudes of wrong. (I expected as much since I gave it a niche question I know the answer to, but the public doesn't)

I ended up finding the answer myself with a lot of elbow grease (and I found a not average way to find the answer), but GenAI would teach you to give up and have no tenacity. And I can't abide by that. Why rob yourself of the plot bunnies to come? That's why you are getting stuck. Enjoy the journey to the answer. Your brain is 38 trillion times stronger than our current computers. Enjoy that, because it also burns less energy than a GenAI machine. https://www.crucial.com/blog/technology/how-does-the-human-brain-compare-to-a-computer

The human brain likes novelty. https://www.ciis.edu/news/novelty-keeps-your-brain-healthy

So keep your brain healthy and make your novel, well, novel, not human average. Find a solution to the problem you posed to yourself in a not average way. Because I guarantee you, that will be far more engaging to read, to enjoy, to see, to experience than anything that the average of humanity has ever come up with. Be not normal. And in that, you are creative.

#anti ai #ai writes like shit #Be not average #Be creative #writing advice

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numberonetacostan · 2 months ago

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long-time blog enjoyer, first time [of many, im sure] asker.. just wanted to say how much i loved your fics. i'm always happy to see more taco content, and i do believe your interpretation of her is my favourite!

as for an actual ask... season one taco headcanons, perhaps?

-📱🟪 [technically, my name is mepad, but i wouldn't mind getting one of your little nicknames ^_^]

Hi Mepad!!^^ Welcome back, and thank you for sending in an ask!! :] Hm, usually when people offer a name I use either that or just add a little -y to it, so I could do that? Or you could be Tablet Tabloid if you'd like ;)

Thank you so much!!! <3 I'm really happy to hear you like my fics!! :D And oh my fennings my interpretation being someone's favourite!? :O!!!! Wow wow wow!!! Oh I'm so happy to hear that I'm so flattered!! :D Thank you!!! X3c

So, Taco presumably runs out of lemons in episode 14, yeah? But in the finale, multiple lemons come out of her. My thought is that her poor tongue was starting to hurt. If you eat too many lemons/consume to much lemon juice, it hurts your tongue a whole lot (I have experienced this, it sucks)! I like to think she'd just done a bit too much lemon-spitting and needed to give it a bit of a rest so her tongue could heal and be in good shape for the finale (she does use it to grab onto OJ, after all).

I like to think Taco still hung around in the woods a lot even before she'd revealed her actual personality. I can't imagine it being too hard for her to wander off, and the solitude and cover of the forest would mean it's a great place for her to take a break from acting silly and stupid. I think she could keep up an act indefinitely if she wanted to, but since s1 Taco is so high-energy all the time it might be nice for her to have a break.

I also tend to think that, for a lot of s1, Taco was on a sugar-high. Not for the purposes of making herself more hyper like I just mentioned, but because she's more or less on Pickle's diet the entire time. He'd want to get food for his best buddy Taco, and she can't be picky since that would be out of character for someone who regularly eats metal, lemons, and rope. I usually think that, even before he was depressed, Pickle lived on, for the lack of a better term, a hardcore gamer diet. Most snacks and sugary sodas, so that ends up being what Taco eats as well, though it's the opposite of what she'd prefer. In gijinka terms, it might contribute a bit to the baby cheeks she has in s1 and that are gone by the time she shows up again for season 2. She'd probably avoid soda for, like, the rest of her existence after that, she's had more than enough thank you very much, she'll have a nice cup of tea instead.

I like to think that Taco had always seen through what Balloon was trying to do. His own act in season 1. I think of her as almost always, if not always, being able to tell when someone else is lying in addition to her own deception skills, yeah? So while he's stumbling around calling OJ and Bomb stupid and useless while he's trying to get them on his side, she is internally both laughing at his clumsy attempt and face-palming at how bad he is at it.

I think it would be funny if one time, Pickle asked her to throw something into the trash can, and she genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. She'd never admit that it wasn't part of her act, but she did not know what a 'trash can' was. It's a rubbish bin to her! Mephone specifically programmed her British, so I like to think she has to learn the american english terms that the rest of the contestants use through context and prayers.

#inanimate insanity #loomy's answers #ii taco #taco ii #inanimate insanity hc #pickle ii #ii pickle #balloon ii #ii balloon

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kikyoupdates · 15 days ago

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Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑜𝑢𝑡

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

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“I’m finally off! Thanks for waiting.”

“No problem,” Elliot smiles. He gestures towards your bag. “Do you need help carrying anything? I can hold that for you, if you’d like.”

“I’m fine,” you reassure. “It isn’t heavy. Let’s just head out. I’m really hungry, so I want to get home and make myself something to eat.”

You’ve just finished another day at the coffee shop, and Elliot was nice enough to stick around and wait for you to be done. He even offered to walk you home, and not just so that you could chat for a while longer, but also to keep an eye out for that lowlife Johnny.

“I appreciate you going to all this trouble,” you say, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience.”

Elliot shakes his head. “Of course not. I like spending time with you, and I’d feel a lot better knowing you got home safe. I wish there was more I could do to help you get rid of that guy… so, it’s actually a bit frustrating that this is all I’m capable of.”

“Don’t say that. It’s not your fault. He’s the one to blame. And also my shitty parents,” you grimace.

Elliot smiles sympathetically, and although you don’t really enjoy being pitied, the concern in his eyes is genuine. You can tell that if there was a way for him to get rid of Johnny without it coming back to bite you in the ass, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Still, it’s probably best to change the topic. You’d rather not talk about your unfortunate childhood or dwell on the incident with Johnny any longer.

“I hope it’s not a rude question or anything, but are you working right now?” you ask.

“Hm? Oh, yes,” he nods. “I have a job at a flower shop. But since the customers would probably feel uncomfortable if I was working up front, I mainly just move the products around and do some of the flower arranging in the back. To be honest, I could tell the owner was reluctant to hire me, but more and more companies are being encouraged to hire vampires now that the new laws have passed. There’s definitely an incentive, otherwise I doubt I would have been able to land a job so easily.”

True. Honestly, you’ve been wondering about that for a while. Vampires are actively discriminated against because people fear them so much, so you worried that they would struggle to secure working positions. Nowadays, refusing to hire someone for those reasons is probably grounds for a lawsuit, but you’re sure that a lot of people still aren’t too keen on having a vampire as their coworker.

“Every human I’ve met so far can’t seem to hide their bias towards me,” Elliot admits. “Some are more subtle than others, but apart from you, I haven’t met anyone who genuinely feels comfortable around me. I guess I haven’t been in the city for a very long time yet, so perhaps that’ll change at some point… but I don’t know. I can’t help but feel a bit doubtful.”

You slump your shoulders, feeling immeasurably upset on his behalf. It isn’t fair that people assume the worst of him, especially when he’s such a good guy. Vampire or not, what matters is a person’s character. If only they would give him a chance and actually get to know him properly.

“But that’s what makes me appreciate you all the more,” Elliot continues. He’s blushing now, even avoiding your gaze somewhat. “You’re so nice, and you don’t judge people superficially. And I don’t just mean with respect to me being a vampire. You just seem like the type of person to withhold your judgment until you’ve given someone a fair shot.”

“Well, that’s the least I can do,” you shrug. “There’s no point in jumping the gun. Granted, some people make really shitty first impressions that there’s simply no recovering from, but I’m not going to automatically hate someone just based on rumors or gossip. I think the problem nowadays is that stories about vampires have gotten completely out of hand, and people can’t get past that initial fear. They automatically assume the worst, and don’t feel like risking it.”

Elliot lifts his head towards the sky. “Yeah. I can’t entirely blame them for being afraid. I probably would be too, if I was in their position. But I just wish… they wouldn’t hate me because of it. It just hurts to see the way they glare at me, like I’ve done something wrong. Like I’m some monster who doesn’t know how to control myself.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, because you can only imagine how painful it must be to constantly be perceived in such a negative light.

To some extent, it’s good to be cautious. There are assholes like Felix out there, after all. But then again, there are assholes like Johnny too, and he’s a human. He doesn’t possess otherworldly strength or vitality, and yet, he’s easily succeeded in turning your life into a goddamn fucking nightmare.

There are plenty of dangers in this world, and encountering a vampire certainly isn’t the worst of them. You just wish more people would hurry up and realize that.

Anyways, you were hoping to steer clear of depressing topics, but it looks like you’ve gone right back to square one.

“It suits you,” you say, smiling in an attempt to lift the mood. “Working at a flower shop, I mean. And I can imagine you being really good at flower arrangements. You’ve always struck me as being really patient and detail-oriented.”

Elliot shyly scratches his cheek. “Y-You think so? I do like flowers. I’ve always thought they’re really pretty. I’m not sure exactly how good I am at making arrangements, but I definitely enjoy the process. And even though I’m never interacting with the customers, I like to think that the flowers they take home make them happy. It’s a bit trivial, but it makes me feel like I’ve actually accomplished something.”

“I’m sure they all love whatever you make,” you encourage. “Tell me the name of your shop. I might stop by at some point and pick something out for my apartment.”

“Th-There’s no need for you to go out of your way. But if you want… I can pick something out for you and drop it off at some point?”

He glances at you hopefully, and his expression is so cute that you can’t help but giggle.

“Sure,” you beam. “You’re the expert. Take your time coming up with whatever you think would look best. I’ll be eagerly awaiting the finished product.”

Elliot blushes yet again, but he’s unable to hide the wobbly smile that keeps pulling at the corners of his lips. Working at a flower shop really does suit him. He’s so gentle, after all. His impressive display against Johnny was a stark reminder that he’s much stronger than the average person, but he doesn’t seek to intimidate others with his strength or scare them into submission. He’s proof that just because someone has the ability to cause harm doesn’t mean that they actually will.

While you walk, Elliot entertains you with various flower facts. You can tell that he’s passionate about the subject because he gets especially chatty, and his eyes practically sparkle the whole time he talks. You’re perfectly happy to smile and listen attentively. It’s nice to see him ramble on so excitedly, plus, you also get to learn a few things while you’re at it.

Before you realize it, you’ve already made it home. Time really does pass faster when you’re with a friend.

“Thanks again for walking me all the way home,” you say. “I enjoyed the company.”

“I did too,” Elliot smiles. “I work pretty early in the day, so I’m usually free this time of night. Which is nice, because I prefer to be out when it’s not sunny anyways. Our schedules seem to align too.”

He reflects on his last words for a few moments, then proceeds to blush profusely.

“I-I didn’t mean it in a weird way!” he insists. “It’s not like I expect you to meet up with me all the time or anything! It’s just, um… if you ever feel like walking home together, or maybe just stopping for another drink sometime… odds are, I’ll probably be free. That’s all.”

As always, it doesn’t take much to embarrass him, and you briefly chuckle, amused by his skittishness.

“Yeah, it’s convenient,” you smile. “I’m glad we can find time to hang out like this.” You were about to say goodbye and head inside the building, but you pause for a few moments. “By the way, um… if you ever feel like drinking my blood again, just let me know, okay? I’m not trying to pester you for money or anything, so I hope it doesn’t come across that way. It’s just a reminder that whenever you want to, I’ll be ready.”

Elliot instinctively swallows. Just hearing you utter those few words is enough to make him feel dizzy.

“I-I’ll be sure to let you know,” he stammers. “I just wanted to make sure your body had time to recover, since I know you went to Plasma Inc. not long ago. A-Anyways, uh... goodnight!”

He promptly speeds off, looking like he’s in a hurry all of a sudden. You recall him reacting similarly after he drank your blood that one time. Knowing him, he’s probably feeling self-conscious again. It’ll probably take him a bit more time to get used to.

But the truth is that has less to do with him being self-conscious than you’d like to think.

Elliot still can’t get over how incredible yet overwhelming the first time he tasted your blood was. He chose to flee the scene then and there because already, he could feel his heart threatening to burst right out of his chest. He realizes that he needs to pace himself and give his heart time to settle down. He needs to control his urges, no matter how badly he wants to drink your blood again, and be more patient. Otherwise…

He might just get addicted.

“...for the last time, I am not playing Mario Kart with you again,” you sigh tiredly. “You beat me so many times that it wasn’t even funny.”

Caleb chuckles and pats you on the back. “Aw, c’mon. Like I said, practice makes perfect. You’re only bound to get better!”

“That’s what you’d think, but I feel like I’m actually challenged when it comes to video games. So, hard pass.”

He makes puppy eyes at you, but you huff and stubbornly turn away from him. You’re not so easily swayed, especially when the humiliating defeat you’ve suffered at his hands time and time again is still fresh in your mind.

The two of you worked the same shift today, and now that it’s over, Caleb invited you to go over to his place again. You agreed, but only on the condition that there would be no video games involved. Seriously, is a movie too much to ask for?

“A lot of Mario Kart is luck-based,” Caleb insists. “If you pick up a good item near the end of the race, you can swoop in and steal first place from me, just like that.”

You snort. “If that were really true, then I wouldn’t have lost so horribly every single time. I think luck can only take you so far if your skills are nonexistent. Not to mention that I have terrible luck in the first place.”

“But it’s fun!”

“Well, yeah, if you’re always winning.”

“Losing can be fun too!”

“No video games, Caleb,” you sigh for the umpteenth time. “At least not for a little while. I still need to mentally recover from all my previous losses.”

He slumps his shoulders and makes a big show of pouting, but thankfully drops the issue. You’re sure you can find something else to do besides playing video games. It’s nice that he has a hobby, but you really wish it was something you were less crappy at.

What a cute little dilemma. You never would’ve imagined arguing over such a silly, nonsensical issue with a friend. It’s actually pretty funny, and you can’t help but smile.

It doesn’t take long for your smile to drop, though.

“Ah. Right on time.”

You stiffen up, and you swear it feels like all of your blood has just turned to ice.

That shithead Kai is here again.

“I asked one of the servers inside about you, and they said your shift was about to end. Good thing they weren’t lying to me, or I would’ve had to beat the shit out of them,” Kai muses.

You don’t respond. You don’t know what to say, or how to describe what you’re feeling. It’s hard to fully express the horror seeping into every fiber of your being. This sense of helplessness that can’t possibly be overwritten.

Worse yet, you’ve just remembered who’s standing next to you.

Much like you, Caleb hasn’t moved a muscle. His jaw is clenched, and even though he’s staying perfectly silent, from this close up, you can see his throat quivering.

Kai chuckles darkly. “Aw. Looks like your boyfriend’s here too. That’s no fun. How are you doing, dude? Man, I can’t believe your nose is still bruised. It takes humans this long to heal? Talk about pathetic.”

You should have known better than to open your big fat mouth. You should have known better than to talk back to a crazy bastard like him. Now, because of your stupidity, he’s going to put a target on Caleb’s head too. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was already assaulted by him before.

You’re not sure how much Kai knows about you, but your coworkers have always had loose lips, and with a bit of threatening, you doubt it was hard for him to figure out what he wanted. And now that he knows for a fact that you work here, there’s nothing stopping him from coming back.

God.

You’re so fucked.

Caleb is undeniably scared, but despite that, he steps in front of you and tries to block Kai off. “Leave,” he grits out, trying to keep his voice steady. “Are you stalking us now, or what? This is beyond fucked up. You can’t just loiter around someone’s workplace. We don’t even know each other.”

“Huh? Don’t you remember me?” Kai innocently bats his eyes, then points towards his nose, a cruel sneer spreading across his lips. “I’m the one that knocked you out in one hit. I figured the pain would’ve kept you thinking about me. Honestly, I’m a bit hurt.”

“You’re a fucking psycho,” Caleb glares. “I said, leave. Seriously. This isn’t funny.”

“Shut up, man. I’m not interested in you. Stop begging for my attention.”

Kai steps closer, much to your horror, and Caleb instinctively raises his arms to shove him away.

In that moment, you remember just how brutally he was attacked last time. How one hit, faster than you could even blink, was all it took to render him semi-unconscious, laid out on the ground with blood spewing from his nose.

At the rate things are going, there’s a good chance history will repeat itself.

“Wait!”

You cry out in alarm, pulling Caleb back. He glances towards you in confusion, but that split second is all it takes for Kai to close the distance and wrap an arm around your waist.

“Cute,” he grins. “Were you worried I was going to punch him again? Don’t worry, I’ll play nice. I’m in a pretty good mood today. Just as long as he doesn’t piss me off, that is.”

Caleb’s face drops. “[N-Name]! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Let go of her!”

You can see him mentally debating whether or not to rush in, but he’s clearly afraid that if he plays it wrong, it’ll be your nose being broken this time.

“Relax. I wouldn’t hurt a woman. I’m a gentleman, after all.” Kai squeezes your waist, an act which makes a shiver instantly rip down your spine. The lecherous, crooked grin he’s wearing, coupled with how tightly he’s holding you, tells you that he’s anything but gentlemanly. Although that was obvious from the start.

“Get your hands off her,” Caleb warns, eyes clouding over. “Or—”

“Or what? Are you seriously trying to intimidate me right now?” Kai laughs. He pulls you even closer, to the point that your body is uncomfortably pressed against his, then, he uses his other hand to loosely grip your neck. “To be honest, I was just fucking with you earlier,” he says darkly. “I’ll punch this bitch’s face in, no questions asked. I might even twist her scrawny neck just for the hell of it. So, if you don’t want that to happen, I suggest you shut the fuck up.”

Caleb draws in a shaky gasp, and meanwhile, you squeeze your eyes shut, fear overtaking all of your senses.

He wouldn’t… kill you, would he? Not in broad daylight. Not like this. Even if his father is the head of the police force, surely there are limits to what he can get away with.

…right?

“Man, both of you are such wimps, huh?”

Kai laughs again; a loud, obnoxious sound that makes your stomach twist. He lets go of your neck, and even though he wasn’t actively choking you, it still feels like you haven’t gotten enough air. He holds you close, unwilling to let go, then reaches out and wraps an arm around Caleb’s shoulder, pulling him in too.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he hums. “You two are gonna hang out with me for a little while. Just the three of us. It’ll be tons of fun. Oh, and just so you know, you don’t have a choice. Try to refuse and I will make you regret it.”

Kai starts pulling both of you along. You feel nauseous beyond belief, and your heart is beating so fast that you swear you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.

Caleb grits his teeth. “What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you just let us go? I’ll call the police, and—”

“Call the police?” Kai throws his head back and laughs again. “Dude. My dad is the police. And I guarantee he won’t take your side over mine, so I’d suggest keeping your mouth shut and being grateful that I haven’t broken your damn nose again.”

Neither of you says anything in response. All you can do is let Kai drag you along to god-knows-where, too afraid to so much as blink wrong and risk pissing him off.

And to think that just a few minutes ago, your biggest qualm was whether or not you would have to play Mario Kart today.

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