#(i cursed myself by saying that and now i never will)

[surielstea]

Territorial

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel was busy with work and Reader decided to go out alone, much to the males dismay

Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | pwp | 18+ | p in v | oral sex (m receiving) | shadow play | bondage | angry/passionate sex | cum inside | creeps at a bar | reader’s kinda ditsy but we love her

4.4k words

"Az?" I call, peeking my head out the doorway. "Azriel?" I sing, padding down the hall when I don't hear him reply. I follow the golden tether connecting us to his office, only half-clothed with my unzipped dress dipping off my shoulders.

"Hey," I spot the male at his desk, eyes scanning over a form. He doesn't spare me a glance but replies with a quiet, "Hi."

"I called for you and you didn't answer," I take a few steps closer, leaning against his desk and holding the neckline of my dress up. "Yeah?" He mumbles as he continues writing, clearly not listening to what I am saying and filling the silence. "Can you help me?" I ask and he freezes, then finally turns to look at me, ears perking at the question. "The corset," I point to the back of my dress. "Ah," He nods but doesn't move from his seat.

Instead of his hands, it's shadows that move to my back, tightening around the strings and then pulling them tight. I frown slightly but don't move as I allow the darkness to tie the strings. When they're done they return to Azriel's side, swishing around like they were trying to get his attention too, but Azriel seemed busy.

We've been staying in the Hewn City for the past few days, Azriel had interrogations to see to, then paperwork, then more interrogations. So it was easier to stay in the Moonstone Palace for the time being.

My mate was busy quite often but he always made time for me, always. So what's so different now? It might've been shallow that I continued to hover at his side, waiting for him to give me some attention.

I watch what he's so intently writing, frowning at the way he didn't even spare me a second glance. "Take a break Az, we could go to the evening markets?" I suggest and it's like the words don't even reach his ears. "Or I could open a bottle of wine and we could cuddle in bed," I add in a light tune, running my hand down his arm.

It takes a few seconds for him to reply, for the words to even register. "Maybe another time," He brushed me off and my frown deepened. "I understand, sorry for bothering you," I grumbled, then left his office and closed the door with a particularly hard force.

I told him I understood, except I didn't. He worked for Rhysand, and of course, the High Lord is still his boss but if Azriel turned in an assignment a few hours late I doubted he'd get reprimanded in the slightest. If he was anyone else it'd be fine, but this is Azriel, the male who always makes time for me and never makes me feel like a burden.

But now I was standing in the hallway alone, and a little defeated.

I curse myself for being so sensitive and walk down the hall and into the kitchen. I open the door down to the wine cellar but before I can take the descent to the basement I realize I didn't want to drink alone. I sigh, closing the door.

It wasn't that I needed Azriel to be able to enjoy myself but he's got in my head, and now he's all I want.

I decided to pass the time by going to the evening markets on my own, he couldn't be mad at me for doing it by myself when I'd already offered to include him, right?

I scribbled down on a note that I was leaving and signed it with a heart before leaving through the front door without so much as a proper goodbye.

The evening markets were much different in the Hewn City than the ones in Velaris. Every vendor seemed to be trying to con or scam me.

I came across a cart, a skinny pale woman with thinning black hair stood behind the counter with dead eyes. I notice a young pair of twins huddling beside her long, ripped skirt.

She was selling gemstones. They were all fake, you could tell by the way they gleamed under the moonlight but that didn't make them any less beautiful. A specific blue stone caught my attention. I smile softly at the woman and give her my entire pouch of gold marks, enough for a month's worth of food if spent right. She begins shuffling through the coins and only takes what's owed out as I pluck the sapphire up.

"No, keep all of it," I brush her off with a wave of my hand. Her eyes widen as she stares at me in shock. I give her a kind smile. "Get them something nice," I gesture to the two girls the height of her waist. "Thank you," She bleats out and I nod with a gentle smile, pocketing the gem before waltzing away with a small pep in my step.

I come across another stand, this one with aisles of flowers leading towards the shopkeeper. I smile as I gaze at a bush of jasmine, the scent reminding me of Amren. I continue walking down the aisle, spotting moonflowers as big as my palm, and bouquets of chocolate daisies that somehow smelt like the enriching cocoa flavor I was so familiar with.

The clerk seemed busy so I didn't buy anything, just continued to walk until there was a snag at my skirt. My brows twitch and I look down to see one of the twin girls from earlier fisting the cloth in her hand. She doesn't say anything, just holds out a white rose. "For me?" I smile gently and she nods shyly.

I bend down and take the flower, breaking off all the thorns before reaching towards her and tucking the rose behind her ear. "There, beautiful," I compliment and she flushes pink. "Thank you," She whispers and my smile widens. "Thank you, too," I say, standing. She stared up at me in wonder. "Why don't you go snatch one for your sister as well?" I suggest and she nods before scurrying off back toward the flower market.

I turn on my heel, walking with my skirts in my hands as I continue my route down the dimly lit path, shops slowly dwindling away and mage lights flickering the further down the alley I go.

I grip the material of my skirt in my hands at the shift in the atmosphere, my steps speeding up, eager to get out of the eerie ambiance.

Hyena-like laughter echoes down the stretch of the brick road and my entire body tenses. I looked to where the sound had come from, three men sat on upside-down trashcans all talking amongst each other with shit-eating grins. It was rude to assume they were of any danger to me, but I was better off paranoid than ignorant.

I reach through my mental bond towards Azriel only to be met with unbreakable, obsidian walls. I frown, flattening my palms to the cold rock but it was entirely solid and I was locked out. I huff and thrust my own shields up, blocking him out too. Instead of passing by the three men, I step into the building at my left, a bar.

I enter the tavern with a slight panic in my step. I hadn't realized how safe Azriel made me feel until I no longer had his company.

The place was packed, every night in the Hewn City was a night for a drink, there were crowds but it was eerily quiet and I had eyes from every direction staring at me. I ignored the eyes and tried not to catch anyone's gaze as I walked towards the bar top, settling into an empty stool with torn leather that creaked when I put my weight on it.

A bartender immediately comes over to me and I order something light, only planning to pass the time here until I think Azriel learned his lesson and noticed that I didn't need him to have a good time. It was petty and something he probably already knew but I had to solidify that fact.

"What's a girl like you doing all the way out here?" A gravelly voice asked and I turned to the male beside me, his long, graying beard thick with what looked like food sprinkled throughout it. I fight back a grimace.

"A girl like me?" I arch a brow, not interested in telling him where I'm from. "Sure, the fancy clothes, shiny hair," He utters. "I bet that bracelet on your wrist costs more than my house," He scoffs. I look down at the bejeweled bracelet that I wear at a constant. "Well? How much?" He asks and I shrug. "It was a gift from my mate," I utter, not knowing the exact price— but with the amount of diamonds glinting on the piece of jewelry, the stranger wouldn't be far off with the estimate of his house.

"Mate?" He grunts and I nod. "Why aren't you with him now?" He demands, sticking his nose into my business. I nearly roll my eyes. What does it matter to him anyway? "He's working," I swing my legs back and forth. "And what's this male do for a livin' to be able to afford gifts like that?" He gestures to my wrist. "He's the Spymaster of the Night Court," I say, the male gulps down whatever fear bubbled up inside him at the title.

The bartender hands me my drink and I thank him with a gentle smile.

The stranger next to me turns away from me, instead going towards whatever poor girl is on the other side of him as I silently sip my sweet drink, swinging my legs back and forth as I gaze up at the ceiling, running my eyes along the cracks and crevices, attempting to think the way Azriel does, how he notices every single thing, analyzes every movement, every breath. I wish I could observe things like him, read him the way he reads me. I huff in defeat after growing bored from one minute of observing, instead sinking into my stool.

A few males throughout the night approach me but I tell them who my mate is and they immediately back off. I liked the idea of Azriel being so feared in places like this, how he had me blocked from his side of the bond and yet was still protecting me from every male who engaged.

There was a slight commotion behind me, mumbles and synchronized footsteps like everyone was rushing out of someone's way. I ignore it, keeping my eyes pinned to my half-full glass, debating on finishing it or just going home and cuddling up with a book, perhaps Azriel is done with work.

There's a sudden presence behind me, one that's vaguely familiar but nothing too keen. A hand comes down onto my shoulder and my spine straightens at the familarity. "For the last time, I have a mate—" I begin but then I feel shadows twining up my ankles, the scars on his hand, the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar.

"I know," He started and I whipped around, wrapping my arms tightly around the back of his neck. "Az," I greet, and even if I was just annoyed with him, it felt refreshing to have his eyes on me again. "I just had the most wonderful evening," I say as he intertwines his hand with mine and pulls me from my stool. I follow, forgetting about my drink while Azriel pays the bartender with a bill too large for what I ordered.

"I wish you had come with," I say as he pulls me through the crowd, well it wasn't much of a crowd anymore, his wings gave him a large enough frame that groups had simply split in half to accommodate for him, me in tow as he guides me through the path.

"And I went to the markets and bought this pretty gem," I pull out the blue sapphire. "Remind me of your siphons, don't you think?" I hold it up in the moonlight. He looked at it and gave a dip of his head, his mind still reeling as he pulled me away from the alleyway while I continued blathering on. "And there were these twin girls who were so adorable, and later one of them gave me a flower—" I was cut off as I was completely consumed by a familiar darkness, Azriel's hand tightening on mine as he pulled us through the shadow realm, the real world seeming so bright in comparison.

"Az," I pause, looking around at our house as we land, standing in the center of our bedroom. Not in the Hewn City, but Velaris. He had taken us all the way home. "What are we doing here? Did you finish your assignments?" I say, striding up to him and realizing only now that he had yet to say anything this entire time since the bar, I've just been prattling on about my evening while he only nodded, which was typical but, it felt different, there was something cold about him.

"Azriel? You okay?" I reach up towards his face but he catches my wrist before I can make contact. "Do you know how worried I was about you?" His tone is warm but there's a certain deathly flicker in his eyes that sent a chilling shiver down my spine. "There was nothing to be worried about," I mutter, pulling at my wrist but his hold doesn't yield. "You believe that?" He arches a brow but I was too undermined to nod.

"Love," He sighs, his hold loosens and I'm met with relief. "Do you know how many people in that court want me dead?" He tilts his head and I swallow thickly, I hated thinking about stuff like that and he knew it. "How many people want to hurt me the way I've hurt them?" He adds and all I can do is shake my head no.

"I need you to understand the only way to hurt me is by hurting you, make sense?" His hand comes to my cheek, angling my head to look up at him. I meet his stare and nod bashfully.

"I do understand, but, I’m fine," I argue. "I can handle myself, I promise I was safe," I stress and his gaze hardens yet again, now I've done it.

"I know you can handle yourself, but, just let me protect you," He sighs. "Why? I don't need your protection— in fact, you had me blocked out all night, so if I did need you, you wouldn't have even been able to save me," I express and he bristles. I shouldn't have said it, I know it'd hit him where it hurt but, gods, I was so sick of feeling so dependent, like I relied on him every waking hour since we mated.

Azriel never shouted, barely ever raised his voice. But when he did, he was a different male. Animalistic and feral, and entirely uncaged. Some sick part of me found it insanely attractive. His power was so immense I couldn't help but let it turn me on, shadows flooding the room as a vein bulged at his neck as he explained why I need to be more careful when on my own, but I was barely listening to his words, just his voice, his passion. The spine-shivering tone reaches the wrong parts of my body and leaves me clenching my legs, staring up at him helplessly as the smell of my arousal becomes apparent and he shutters, his words halting as he stares at me.

"Are you fucking serious?" He scoffs and I look down at the floor with a bright flush, attempting to hide what's already known. He takes a menacing step closer, hand coming to my chin and tilting my face up dauntingly slow, I avoid his gaze. "Look at me," He snaps and I do as he says immediately, eyes staring up into his, that familiar hazel analyzing every part of me like it always did. "You like it when I yell at you?" He asked and I swallowed thickly. "Answer me, love," He says, hand tightening on my jaw and I nod with creased brows. "Yes," I confess and I could already tell my panties were a mess.

"You gonna be a good girl and take your punishment?" He tilts his head and my pussy throbs in anticipation at the promise of discipline. Again, I nod. "Yeah? On your knees then," He commands and I waste no time before dropping onto the floor before him, staring up at him with shiny, wide eyes. "Open," He says and I part my lips, tongue lulling out. Two of his fingers immediately plunge down my throat while his other hand works at the ties of his pants. I move my own hands up, attempting to offer assistance but shadows are quick to twine around my wrists and pin them useless behind my back.

I close my lips around his hand, sucking on the two long, thick, and calloused fingers. I dip my tongue between them, coating them in my saliva as he curls them into the back of my throat, forcing me to gag on them, loving the sight of my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

He gets his pants down and his cock slaps up against his abdomen, hard and leaking pre-cum, his tip red and angry. I whimpered at the sight of it as he removed his fingers from my mouth, using my saliva to further lube himself for easier entrance. He strokes himself once, then another. "Please," I rasp out, needy for his cock. He knew just how badly I needed him inside of me.

He continues pumping his cock just in front of my lips, groaning out at the intense feeling of his hand. "Open," He repeats and again, I obey. The head of his cock slaps onto the flat of my tongue and I nearly moan at the salty taste of him, tears brimming the edge of my eyes as I run my tongue up and down the underside of his member, tracing the bulging vein.

I pulled at the restraints on my hands, whining in need of more as I suck on the head of him, swirling my tongue around his tip and pressing my tongue to the sensitive slit as he grunted in pleasure.

His hand finds the back of my head, gripping my hair roughly as moans slip from me. "Three taps, remember?" He asks and I nod urgently, remembering the safe code in case he went too far, but I knew I wouldn't be using that any time tonight.

He then thrust all of his length down my throat and I gagged on him, adjusting to his size of him was impossible as he continued to abuse my mouth, tears now free-falling onto my cheeks as his other hand found my neck, squeezing occasionally when I choked on him.

I struggled to breathe as he continued to pummel into my parted lips, his head tilted back in pure ecstasy as I sucked on him hard, bobbing my head. "Gods, you suck me off so good," He praised and I rub my thighs together for any form of friction but nothing could compare to his cock. I seal my lips around his base, jerking my head as I swirl my tongue underneath his cock, drinking every drop of his pre-cum, savoring the taste and eager for more but as he twitches he pulls away from my mouth, keeping himself from crossing that fine line of release. I cry out a whine, wanting the salty taste of him on my tongue now.

"Please, Az," I sob but he ignores the whine. "Get up, on the bed," He nodded his head toward the mattress as I rose from my knees, my wrists unbinding and allowing me to crawl up towards the pillows with shaky limbs. I go to turn around to face him but he stuffs my face into the pillow before I get the chance. My back bows as I struggle to breathe and his hold ceases, allowing me to lift only slightly from the bed. His hands come to the curve of my ass, my dress pushed up by shadows. He doesn't even bother with the ties of my corset and instead tears me free from the material, shredding the gown into pieces and discarding it onto the floor. I whimper as my panties follow without any other foreplay, the cold air breezing against my soaked cunt.

"Count five then I'll let you have what you want, okay?" His hands grope at my ass and I rise onto my elbows, my back arching up into his as he leans over me. I nod with a needy moan, reveling in the feeling of his scars on my skin.

His hand rises then comes down onto my ass, a loud smacking sound filling the room, my mewls quickly following. "One," I gripe, clenching the sheets in my fists as he gives me the second one, harder, the sting lingering and sending shockwaves up my spine. I stuff my face into the pillows as I call the number, so caught up in the pleasure of it all.

His third strike is joined with a cold shadow brushing against the apex of my thighs and I scream at the friction, the neglecting had grown so strong that I could feel myself dripping down my thighs, sopping wet for him. On the fourth smack, the shadows return, this time to stay, swirling around that familiar bundle of nerves and all thoughts leave me, completely consumed by the pleasure of it all. "What number was that?" He purrs beside my ear and I shutter. "Fuck— I, I don't know," I whine. "Oh c'mon, think hard you can do it," He directs, trailing kisses up the side of my ear but it was impossible to think about anything but those damned shadows circling my clit.

"Four," I reply with a hopeful lift to my voice. "Good, such a good girl," He hums, kissing just below my ear before landing one final slap to my ass, the skin red and stinging in pure pain, and I doubt I had ever been more turned on.

"You want me inside baby?" He asked with barely anytime for me to recover, biting at my earlobe as I cry out my reply, "Shit, Az please."

I feel the head of his cock press against my folds a beat later, lathering himself in my fluids as I clench around nothing, legs jolting as I arch up higher for easier entrance, showing just how much I wanted him.

His tip aligns with my entrance and I beg for him, for every inch of him. "Need you, please," My voice shakes and he rises from behind me, his hands coming down onto my thighs, gripping them tightly. Shadows pin my legs to the bed, restricting me from moving as his tip enters me only slightly. "Don't move," He commanded and I nodded, then he thrust all of him inside of me and I felt like I split in half.

I screamed, clawing at the sheets at the intense pain yet pleasure that quickly followed. My brows knot as his base slaps against mine and without much adjustment he begins to pound his length into me, pulling strings of moans from the base of my throat. "Fuck, you feel so perfect wrapped around my cock," He sighed out, head tilting back in pure relief, continuing to pummel into me with an unrelenting force.

"You ever g'na leave without me again?" He asks in a cold voice and I shake my head no. "Use your words," He tells, and my back bows at the tone of his voice, so fucking demanding. "No, never Az," I swallow the lump in my throat. "That's right, 'cause who do you belong to?" He asks, his lips on my neck. "You, all yours," I manage to say, words not coming easy as I was too distracted by the feeling of him thrusting up to what felt like my ribs. I moan his name loudly, head hanging low into the pillows as I arch, pushing further onto his cock, his tight balls slapping against my folds while he twitches against my sensitive walls, shadows coming to contact with my clit and doubling the amount of pleasure.

"Az I can't, I can't take any more," I rasp out as he places sloppy kisses on my shoulder, biting and sucking and licking on any bare skin he could get his mouth on. "You will though, won't you?" He said and I couldn't help but agree with him, knowing it'd feel close to death if he pulled out now.

The tip of his cock brushed over my most sensitive area and I shout in euphoric pain. He smirks against my skin and continues to toy with the area, easily hitting that deep place inside of me, molding me to him, stretching my walls to fit his cock and his alone.

Marking me like territory.

"Az, I'm gonna cum— I can't," I struggle to breathe at how tight my lungs felt, the knot in the pit of my stomach threatening to snap any second now. "Go ahead baby, make a mess all over my cock," He allows and his shadows pinch my clit, forcing me into that orgasmic high.

Warmth blooms in my hips as I find release, tears falling down onto the pillows as my legs shake in pure relief, pleasure racking through me like a wave of ecstasy.

His release followed mine, as I clenched around him from my high it forced him into spilling out his warm seed into my cunt, painting my walls white and making me his entirely. "Fuck," He grunts out. "You did good baby," He whispered softly, pecking my tear-stained cheek while slowly pulling out, his cum flowing out of me and down my thighs as I slump down onto the bed, exhausted.

"No sleeping yet, I won't be able to live with myself if you don't get proper aftercare," He ushered me out of the bed as I sat up with a whine. He smiles softly then picks me up, carrying me princess-style towards the bathroom. I marvel at how easily he switched personalities, shifting between Azriel and the Spymaster so easily.

"Alright pretty girl, let's get you cleaned up."

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[sanjoongie]

Duchess of Death!

☠Pairing: Butler! Jung Yunho x Duchess! Reader (f) x Cook! Jung Wooyoung

☠Au: the Duke of death and his maid anime, anime au, noble au

☠Trope: mutual pining, noble/servant

☠Genre: angst, smut

☠️Word Count: 2,136

☠Rating: 18+, MDNI

☠Warnings: the entire sexy body of Jeong Yunho described in various compromising ways, mxm, handjob, mutual masturbation, verbal instruction

☠Summary: cursed as a child to kill anything you touch, you're banished to your family's estate in the country with only your faithful Butler Yunho by your side. He knows of your curse yet does everything in his power to push your limits--just to see your reaction.

☠A/N: To the Ying to my Yang. may we never see eye to eye and always laugh despite of it 🤣🤣 you’re always there to match my level and i never feel more myself than i am with you. We may fight, and sometimes it’s nasty, but I'd like to think that sisters fight the way we do, so that always eases my heart. Please never change, you’re my world, my sun, happy birthday @mejuii

“Yunho!” You call for your butler at the piano. “My oral fixation is acting up again! Fetch me something to suck on.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.” Yunho bows his head and reaches for his pants.

You watch in horror as he unbuttons them and places both hands by his hips, about to pull down his pants, implying--

“YUNHO!” You screech, covering your eyes with your gloved hands. “Why are you like this?!”

Yunho began to button his pants back up. “Why, because your reactions are so cute, Your Grace,” Yunho chuckled.

“I'll cute you,” You say, a grumble and a warning in your tone, “without the e.”

“Oh no!” Yunho covers his mouth in a mock gasp of horror. “Not my hair, Your Grace, you swore you'd never let me cut it. Or do you mean to say you wonder if I'm cut or not? Do you think that changes the texture on your tongue?”

Your face heats up, embarrassment thrumming through your veins. “No, I did not mean that! Stop with your sexual innuendos.”

Yunho smiles, lips only pulled up at the corners in the slightest, his perfect cupid’s bow  the epitome of temptation. And you will never be able to feel them against yours because of your damn curse.

When you were but a child, a witch had casted a curse on you; anything you touched would die. So you had been banished to this mansion, far from your family, with only your butler as company. It had been hard at first, to be away from your younger brother and sister but soon Yunho was the only family you needed. He eased the ache in your soul. 

“Your Grace, should I prepare the afternoon tea?” Yunho wonders. “Surely you should start utilizing the new chef we hired.”

You perk up at the mention of the new cook but wilt upon realizing you couldn't even thank him properly for the meals he prepared. “No, Yunho, I’ll have my sucker for now.”

“As you will, Your Grace.” Yunho bent at the waist to bow and went to fetch the sweet concoction that would do nothing for your hunger pains.

Wooyoung, unbeknownst to you, is waiting outside the doors in anticipation. When Yunho leaves the sun room and closes the door softly, he shakes his head and Wooyoung’s shoulders fall. All they want is to serve you and you continue to keep them at arm's length--physically as well as emotionally. 

Still, you cannot deny that Yunho has your heart utterly in his grasp. Whether he’s aiding you in moving the plants around to capture the sun best, or he’s tucking a blanket around you when you fall asleep in front of the fireplace, too stubborn to move to your bedroom, he’s your constant. He never leaves your side and you have come to prefer it this way. But it is still torture to know that you will never be able to touch, to kiss, to hug the one you love the most. 

Then one day, a small reprieve is given to you. You had been walking the halls of your mansion, specifically making your way to the wing that held the wonderful pieces of art your family had accumulated over the centuries. They didn’t hold any value or interest to you per say, but it gave you a purpose on this day. 

You scrunch your nose in confusion, tilting your head to follow the complex lines of one particular painting. Your confusion only increases as Yunho pushes into your personal space. In fear, you back up against the wall, palms pressed to the wall. Yunho slams a hand on the wall beside your head and his lip twists into a smirk. 

“If I had known you wished to gaze at something beautiful, I would have volunteered myself, Your Grace.” Yunho speaks in a lilting, low voice and you feel as if you’re being hypnotized by your butler. 

“Yunho!” You squeak, eyes avoiding his own.

Yunho takes the moment to eye you from bottom to top. If you had bothered to meet his gaze, you would have seen the hunger emanating from them. “What I would give to be able to pleasure you with my own hands…Your Grace.” The formality seemed to be added only because of habit. 

You bit down on your lip, the feeling mutual. You breathed quickly, inhaling his dark scent that belonged only to Yunho. “Me too,” you whispered as if you couldn't bear to say it louder. 

You hear pitter-pattering of feet, the screech of the sole of shoes along marble, and finally Wooyoung turns the corner. He braces himself against his thighs as he catches his breath. “....you bastard… Jeong Yunho…starting…without me!”

This causes you to meet Yunho’s eyes finally. His eyes mirror your own, wide and worried. “What is the meaning of this?” You demand.

Yunho backs off, but only slightly. “We should retire to your bed chambers first, Your Grace.” He uses his hand to point the way, bowing to a small degree and waiting for your feet to move. 

You sent a look to Wooyoung, attempting to read his face, but it’s cheerfully blank now. He sends you a winning smile, however, but it only causes you to grumble. The only way you’re finding out what’s going on is by following Yunho’s lead. You’ve been down this road before.

Once in your room, Wooyoung bounced on the balls of his feet while Yunho stood still. “Your Grace, we have figured out a work-around to you not being able to touch me.”

Your eyes flew open in excitement. “You figured out how to break the curse!”

Yunho winces. “Not exactly, Your Grace.”

Wooyoung whistles, seemingly innocent. “We figured out the next best thing!”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow at Yunho. 

Wooyoung caught his tongue between his teeth naughtily. “You tell me what to do to Yunho. I’ll be like an extension of your hands.”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

Yunho moves into your bubble, practically cutting off your view of Wooyoung. “I can tell you what I’d want to do to you. You would move your hands to my command. If you willed it, Your Grace.”

“Yunho…”

“Please please please!” Wooyoung begs, poking his head around Yunho’s broad body.

You take a step back and wring your hands through your gloves. “I don’t know…”

Yunho places a hand on Wooyoung’s shoulder to halt his movements. “It’s fine Wooyoung. I told you she wouldn’t want to see me in a debauched state with your hands on me.”

Your face flames up and you slap your hands to it. The pure and unadulterated image of Wooyoung grasping Yunho’s cock in his hand and Yunho’s head cast backwards in ecstasy cannot be erased from your mind’s eye. 

“Wait…”

“Your Grace?” Yunho cocks his head, always waiting for your command. 

“You should show me. A demonstration is in order,” You order.

Wooyoung gleefully giggles and then he’s zooming to your bed. Yunho sends you one more unreadable look and then he is moving towards your bed as well. He sits against the headrest like he belongs there. Wooyoung raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

Oh, right, you had to instruct Wooyoung. “Ummm… unbutton Yunho’s shirt first.”

Wooyoung clucks his tongue at you. “Tell us how you’d do it, Your Grace.”

“I…I would lean in to take in Yunho’s smell and then unbutton his shirt. Slowly.” How were you going to do this and not end up a puddle on the floor?!

“Ooooh!” Wooyoung leans towards Yunho’s neck and takes a deep breath. “He does smell good.” Wooyoung’s deft fingers pluck at Yunho’s vest and shirt until it’s gaping open for your viewing pleasure. “What next, what next?” Wooyoung looks at you eagerly.

You find yourself climbing onto your bed, legs splaying under your body at the foot of it. Wooyoung unbuttons Yunho’s trousers next and pulls him out. Yunho is already hard and impressively long. 

“I’d torture him. I’d run my hand up and down his shaft for hours, to hear his pretty moans just for me,” You whisper and then you clamp your hands over your mouth.

Wooyoung’s smile couldn't have been more full of teasing. “Your Grace knows exactly what she wants.” Wooyoung wraps his hand around Yunho and strokes him slowly, achingly slow.

Yunho swallows loudly and lets out a devastating moan. It’s exactly like you imagined in your bed, late at night, when you would touch yourself after a hard day of teasing from Yunho. It was exactly what you wanted to hear. 

“Your…Grace…” Yunho attempts to pull himself out of the lust he’s feeling from Wooyoung’s hand. “Please imagine my hands skimming up your legs and playing with your most intimate parts. I want to see my fingers pushing in and out of your sweet hole.”

You press your lips together in nervousness. Could you really touch yourself in front of both Wooyoung and Yunho? Wooyoung jerks his chin, as if to say “get on with it!” and you scowl at him, sticking your tongue childishly at him. Still, you remove your gloves, a wary eye on how far the two men are from you.

You pull your petticoats up, spreading your legs, and let your fingers play along your thighs. They skim and tempt and then finally you reach your mound. You move your hands to your hips to pull down your undergarments but Yunho’s grunt stops you.

“Don’t,” he says hoarsely. “Keep them on.”

You push them to the side instead, wetting your finger along your folds, before pushing one into you. “Wha-what next?”

Wooyoung is biting his lip, tempted by both the pleasure he’s giving Yunho and the picture you’re giving him, fingers inside of yourself. Yunho’s chest is moving up and down quickly, like he can’t catch his breath. “I would bring you to as many orgasms as I could give you,” He growls.

Wooyoung tsks at Yunho this time. “She needs direction, Yunho, not a prediction of your sex life.”

Yunho spares Wooyoung a harsh glare before focusing on you. His eyes follow your fingers and you swear he gains some energy and confidence from it. “I would make you feel every inch of my fingers inside of you.”

It’s your turn to gulp. “Fingers?” You squeak.

Wooyoung grins. “You heard the butler. Better put another finger inside of yourself, Your Grace.”

You groan as you stretch yourself with two fingers. It feels good to do as Yunho says and you get a little excited, pumping your fingers inside of you faster. “So good.”

“Your Grace,” Yunho moans, “Please, can you play with my head?”

“Oh Yunho,” You gasp.

Wooyoung, after a quick nod from you, rolls his palm along the head of Yunho’s cock, causing Yunho to jolt. His hands fist your expensive Italian silk sheets in response. “Your Grace, your hands feel lovely on me. I’m sure they’re soft and small but so good to me.”

“Yun-Yunnie,” You mewl in response. “Need you. Need you so badly.”

“Co-come with me, Your Grace. Let us climax together!” Yunho cries out.

You focus purely on coming from your butler. You thrust your fingers in and out of your sopping hole. You aggressively rub your clit as well, chasing that high that’s just out of the reach. Wooyoung’s fist quickly makes good work of Yunho and soon the two of you are coming together. Yunho’s gravelly groan makes your cunt clench around your fingers and you come with a long, drawn out whine. 

All three of you are panting in need but you are well aware that there is no step after this; this is as far as you can go. Until you break the curse, until you can touch Yunho without killing him, this is the most you can manage.

“We’re doing this again,” Wooyoung, of all people, declares. “I’m going to make us food. You two talk.” And with all the energy of a whirlwind, Wooyoung is gone with the quiet hush of a closed door.

You push your skirts down and Yunho tucks himself back into his pants. “Your Grace? Was that enjoyable for you? Please tell me it pleased you.”

You smiled through unshed tears. “It was wonderful, Yunho.”

“Your Grace.” Yunho’s voice is hoarse. He reaches out but lets his hand fall before he can touch you. “We will break this curse. I will marry you and we will be together in every way we’ve always dreamed.”

“I hope so Yunho, I truly do,” You sob.

The two of you sit there, embracing each other with your eyes only, for that’s all you can do. Until Yunho suggests that he touch himself again to get you to stop crying. That is when you choke out a laugh and throw a pillow at him. And all is well in the household of the duchess of death and her butler. 

[wetcatspellcaster]

Metapost: "The Ascendent"

**this is a meta for my fic, Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth, and NOT a discussion of the BG3 game canon in any way. If you try and make this into a disk-horse, I will BITE you**

(spoilers under the cut for Chapters 1-23 of Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth).

So... remember in the Chapter One endnote when I said I was a Spike/Buffy fan first, and a person second? x

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In more seriousness, there was a number of fictional seasonings/ingredients that went into creating what I felt was the villain of a Gothic horror, and what I felt could turn the Ascendent into something that was both 'fixable', and something I enjoyed writing.

Those ingredients were:

Spike and the idea of 'soulless' vampires in the BtVS canon - do I like this conceit of BtVS worldbuilding and how it's used in the show? No. I think it often underlines how bad Whedon is at writing romance. BUT I do think it gives Buffy this free pass for which vampires she can/can't like or adopt, and I needed some of that for my protagonist. I need a 'I can fix him' moment - BtVS has those in fucking SPADES.

Howl's Moving Castle (this one was accidental, I'm still mad at myself but I can't deny it's there) - man conducts magic ritual for power, removing an essential part of himself in the process that needs to be returned

Picture of Dorian Gray (the idea of an exterior staying pristine while something hidden suffers and decays)

Curse of Strahd (the soulless in Barovia, which I mentioned in Chapter 23)

The idea of default moral alignments in D&D. I have a whole chapter arguing against this in my thesis (mostly bc it's often applied to entire races) but I was fascinated by creating a set of circumstances where I feel like a default moral alignment is valid, actually. 7,000 deaths seems like a good set up. I wanted to imagine a being that was trapped within a default moral alignment, and the laws of its very being prevent it from being good no matter what it tries, and it knows that (this kind of creates a feedback loop with the Spike/Buffy stuff)

The parts of the BG3 canon I took and REMADE (I'm stressing this throughout, I was making a horror story and a horror monster your honour):

Astarion conducts the Rite of Profane Ascension with scars on his back, but has to scar Cazador's back personally, suggesting that um... the Rite REALLY SHOULDN'T BE CONDUCTED BY SOMEONE WHO'S GOT THOSE SCARS. Cazador wasn't going to do it that way, is all I'm saying!!

The idea that Ascended!Ending Astarion is a concentrated version of certain traits that have persisted throughout his story - his flirtiness, his understanding of sex as a mechanism and expression of power, his use of a façade as a mask for trauma he refuses to acknowledge.

The lines alluding to dissociation in the brothel foursome, post-Ascension.

The idea that Astarion seduced Tav to survive or protect himself- in my case, because I made the Ascendent empty save for Astarion's survival instinct, the idea that he would gravitate towards Tav as one of his default modes to potentially survive made sense to me - this is why it becomes an obsession.

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For me, when writing, the Ascendent is a few things:

An intensification of vampirism in a different, fucked-up direction. Yeah, A!Astarion, you can walk in sunlight and you can eat and drink and don't need blood. But you are still a hungering maw of emptiness that feels like it will never be whole or close and connected to the living - just now in a wildly different, metaphysical/existential direction! Welcome to depression, alienation, and otherness!

A soulless being, that knows it is soulless - that initially was very happy with its life but then as the years passed, increasingly spends its every waking moment knowing there is something innately wrong with it that it can't seem to shake, no matter how much it engages with life and all the pleasures of life. (see the 'every meal without savour' speech)

A magically literal metaphor for Astarion's dissociation in moments of extreme trauma, up to and including the fight with Cazador - essentially, the moments when there is nothing but a performance or an exterior, because the self/soul are suffering and they cant' come to phone right now

Astarion's survival instinct. As I say in Chapter 23 - Mephistopheles thinks it is an empty body, who's performance is trying to deny the reality of it's own existence. Rosalie, who has a bit more understanding of Astarion, sees that the performance is not just a coping mechanism but one of Astarion's main modes of survival. The Ascendent is Astarion's survival instinct/techniques for endurance, without any soul or person behind them to protect. This is how I tried to tie in the flirty, hypersexual persona and wrap it with a bow.

I wanted a monster that was undeniably scary, and monstrous to me (oh? you can't fit in or be happy no matter what you do and no matter how hard you try, and you think there's something intrinsically off? how's that autism diagnosis going Emma) but that I also felt sympathy and true sorrow for. I needed to have motivations for him chasing after Tav that I could write meaningfully from and sympathise with.

Not only has Astarion used Tav as a life-raft once before, they've also proven to be the most secure thing he's ever clung to. Of course a rabid survival instinct Astarion would become obsessed, and see them as a potential solution to the problem (this was then intensified by Rosalie also being a walking, overbearing moral compass, and having bound him in a contract in the first week of living, accidentally - a lawful good immoveable objects meets a default moral alignment unstoppable force.)

...Because I also wanted that moral alignment spice!! Wizards of the Coast, default moral alignment is fucked up actually!!! Imagine something trying so desperately to be good - literally being bound in a pact and having been told to be good - but the laws of the universe and its very essence are like "nah mate, we kind of want to destroy and annihilate everything, we're neutral evil personified". That's scary!! that's fucked up!! that's what a birth from 7000 deaths gets you!!!

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So, now for the actual timeline, for people who aren't interested in my silly musings but mostly just want answers lmfao.

Rosalie makes the decision not to intervene in Cazador's mansion, making it seem like she'll support whatever decision Astarion will make there.

Rite of Profane Ascension happens. Astarion conducts the ritual, rips his own soul from his body, the Ascendent is born with literally zero context. Mephistopheles is fucked in Cania, because a bunch of stuff has just gone wrong.

(oh, by the way, the Ascendent knows Infernal as a default language. Bc it's born from an Infernal rite.)

The Ascendent is now default neutral evil, and feeling some kind of way. Rosalie and him break up. He's supposed to have everything, but the one thing he thought was a done deal - his most stalwart suppporter - just rejected him.

Netherbrain defeat (the Ascendent is not invited. Imagine being an all-powerful, hypersexual survival instinct vampire, and your ex-girlfriend neither wants you for sex, nor your power.)

Rosalie accidentally binds the Ascendent (a soulless devil) in a pact demanding that he never kill anyone, when that's literally what the Ascendent's new existence/new default moral alignment is driving him to do. Then, she fucks off and goes into hiding.

Well. The Ascendent can just get another wizard, to help him learn all of Cazador's secrets to cope [Hemlock is recruited].

The years go by! The Ascendent is doing sooooo well. Everything is great, guys! I'm rich, I'm beautiful, I have lavish parties and lots of sex - why do I feel nothing? I'm a vampire perfected - I have no hunger for blood, I can walk in the sun, I can enjoy all the freedoms of a living, breathing man - why do I feel like I'm starving? Why does everything turn to ashes in my mouth? I have friends - oops, I've sabotaged all those friendships with my innate neutral evil destruction. Why can't I feel anything? What's wrong with me? I'm doing everything right? Why doesn't it feel that way?

Also, I can't kill anything to feel better about it, because my hidden ex-girlfriend bound me in a pact.

In this time, to reflect the gradual degradation of the Ascendent's happiness and it's increasing awareness that it is something Other and innately wrong, the reflection starts going weird. Starts going strange. Starts getting a bit fucked up. Almost as if, when he looks in the mirror and sees a person, *nothing* should be what's there. Imagine being a spawn who couldn't see your reflection, and then a vampire who could see it's reflection, but knows that they're innately empty. Knows there's nothing there. I'd freak out a little bit about it as well tbh, I'd go a bit tooth and claw and elongated jaw about it.

The Ascendent finally admits that's there must be something kinda fucked about it. Life just ain't working out, lads. He starts looking for any and all impossible cures that will help with the malaise in his soul (and that innate essence problem, caused by default moral alignment). These include: more bad decisions, such as a house in Cania bc the Ascendent is hoping he'll feel more at home with devils than he does with mortals. All it does is make him feel more isolated and alone.

But eventually, he settles on two things! - Wish (Hemlock's idea), and Rosalie (the Ascendent's idea). Clearly, we just need Rosalie back! Her leaving is actually what fucked him up in the first place - none of this existential bullshit! She fixed us one, she can fix us again.

But looking for Rosalie hasn't worked out. In order to get a shot at her, the Ascendent goes and bargains for his own soul from Mephistopheles. Mephistopheles, adding a new sheet in excel titled 'what the fuck happens when i give this soulless monster a soul to play with?', agrees and starts tracking his new data.

Obviously, just putting the soul back in yourself will fix you. But the Ascendent, the nothingness living inside Astarion's body, will die. Taking the soul back would erase itself. The Ascendent - who is survival instinct personified - would never do this.

So instead, it starts interviewing and cannibalising the soul. Bc a soul is what it needs, this is the closest it's ever felt to being alive. Bc it's made this all about Rosalie, he thinks he's found his solution. The chase is making him feel alive again. It's true love, lads! not the soul.

Wish auction happens - the Ascendent is beaten to the punch by some unknown (hot) wizard.

This avenue cut off, the Ascendent makes the decision to try and win Rosalie back.

Astarion advises that to make her come back to the Gate, he should murder a bunch of people. Because this comes from the soul, not the soulless devil nothingness, it circumvents the pact.

...The events of Pieces begin!

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And finally - the Ascendent tries to destroy Jar!Starion for many reasons in Chapter 19:

The Ascendent knows that it dies, if the soul and the body get reunited (or is that constant high alert survival instinct just no longer needed, because the problem is fixed? you decide.)

The Ascendent values Tav above itself. Tav is going to fix them. Astarion believes he could never fix himself.

Dissociation - that soul isn't me. I'm here, looking at my soul. If I get too close, it'll kill me.

Self-hatred - that soul isn't me. That man made a mistake, and I've had to live with the consequences. He doesn't deserve to live, for what he's made me become.

The knowledge that Rosalie/Tav will only ever want that version of him, not the one that's living and breathing, that sees itself as the most wretched, fucked-up version of itself. So... give them no choice. They have to deal with me and love me at my worst.

And if the Rite didn't work - if the version of the Ascendent walking around isn't the best one, and the one people want... what was it all for? Why does the Ascendent feel like this? Why does it have to suffer?

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....And, that's my little meta post! If anyone has any questions about the timeline or any motivations at any points in the fic, I'm obviously more than happy to explain things via ask/comment, as always!

TLDR: I just wanted to make a Gothic horror. I wanted a dark romance, fucked up obsession vampire/mortal dynamic, but I also wanted a situation that was scary for both Astarion and my Tav. I personally think an Astarion who is so dissociated and separate from reality that he feels that in his bones daily, is scary. It's the lingering impact of the traumas the Rite and those 7,000 souls embodied.

I was literally just trying to make it a horror, for everyone involved.

[imbibitorlunaeluv]

Late Night Talks

You can't seem to get a peaceful night's rest, and neither can he.

Yuta Okkotsu x Fem! reader.

A lil drabble I made, basically for those who feel absoloutely guttered after a long day. L/N is your last name! have fun lovelies and DON'T sleep late!

This isn’t normal. None of this should be normalised to a teenage girl, a child who eliminates curses up until the sun rises up. But there are some who are considered gifted. Blessed to be stronger by others, and at all cost protect the weak. Though those rules are unwritten, it should be common knowledge by everyone.

I open the door to the dorms, my breath heavy as I fight the urge to close my eyes. A full week of enduring the need to faint is what I have overcome, and it may as well become part of my life by now. They say it is all well, the safety of others- of the weak, ensured.

The strong shielding the weak.

I lazily take off my combat boots, not caring what noise I may make at this time of night as I let my back collapse onto the sofa. I feel my sight become a blur, the taste and smell of curses still lingering in the air, the face of a helpless man screaming and kicking whilst making it harder to exorcise the damned cursed spirit.

To hell with the weak.

My right arm lifts up to cover my eyes, exhaling through my nose as I feel myself getting lightheaded,

“I feel like dying today…”

I mutter, to absoloutely no one. Besides, who in god's name would still be up by this hour?

“L/N-san?"

For some reason, something in me warms up just by hearing the familiar voice. I pry my hand away slightly, only to be met by a cursed boy’s dark silhouette in the dimly lit living room we both inhabit. His head peeked out from above the couch, leaning against the back of it while he looked down at me.

“Yuta…” I couldn’t fight the small smile forming onto my face, a slight bit surprised that I was caught off guard and couldn’t sense his presence.

“What… Why are you still awake?”

"I should be the one to ask you that."

I sit up slightly, propping myself up onto my elbows as I attempt to show a non exhausted grin, not like he could actually see it in such darkness.

“I just finished a mission… took longer than expected.”

He doesn’t at all seem satisfied with my answer. The change in atmosphere and posture could tell it all,

“Ah… alright then.”

“You don’t seem content with my answer, pretty boy.”

And he answers a beat later,

“You’re lying. Your missions usually take way longer than this.”

Even without seeing him clearly, the frown on his face was as bright as the sun. Ever since our shared conversation in the sushi restaurant, Yuta and I have been conversing more and more frequently without experiencing an awkward silence.

So attentive, I let a chuckle slip past my lips. The thought of having someone who could actually be awake enough to hear me come through the door is actually frightening. Having someone else who also has a messed up sleep schedule, or mind, accompanying me in the lonely night.

I gave into a smile, “You were always awake, weren’t you?”

A question that needed no answering to, making Yuta shake his head slightly as he walked to turn on the kitchen light instead.

“I never sleep- well at least I try not to…” his voice trails off, a yawn overcoming him as I sit up to get a better view of Yuta.

The way his eyes were begging to be closed shut, his slouched back and heavy eye bags were enough to make me feel slight pity. For a boy who claims to never sleep, he’s done particularly well in the art of combat. His passion, his determination, his love towards her.

I pursed my lips at the thought of Rika, “Do you never try to talk to… you know… Rika?”

A laughable question it might be, humorous to Yuta probably as I expected him to topple over laughing. But then again, it’s Yuta. The depressed cursed teenage boy I saved. The cursed boy merely smiles, holding his mug in one hand as he looks over to me.

“Not ever since being haunted by her face in my dreams, no.”

I experienced it too, is what I wanted to say. Although nothing leaves my mouth, I give an understanding nod instead. After realising that the past would always chase me till my sleep, I was slightly grateful for the stockpile of missions that made me occupied. I stopped consulting with Shoko as it proved to be of no help.

“Sometimes when I do see a glimpse of the past Rika… I feel sick to my stomach.”

I know the feeling.

“Knowing that I couldn’t even do anything made me feel useless… even until now.”

I’ve always felt that way.

“Sometimes I feel that Gojo-sensei was right… love is a twisted curse.”

Love is for the weak.

I let out a hum, eyes casted down to instead look at my nails and speak whatever comes to my head, “He told me the same thing. But I thought it was so I would steer away from dating anyone.”

And for a moment, I catch a glimpse of Yuta’s sheepish look.

“You-you’ve never… had a lover?” he questions me, his cheeks flaring up into a vibrant pink while avoiding any form of eye contact. He sounds lost, astounded, even. It’s as if the facts I conveyed to him were all white lies.

“Never really thought of having one, really. I admit that the topic of romance does hang higher in the books I read, but I’ve never experienced what it’s like to be loved romantically by someone.”

My explanation seemed to bring Yuta some courage to at least look me in the eye, his lips slightly parted at the information he received. He seems to stay like that for a moment, the same startled look looming on his features.

I take notes on his face features, softly lit up by the light shining right above the kitchen counter behind him. The colour on his face seemed to return after enrolling in Jujutsu High for a while, and he doesn’t look as skinny and bony as he did. His hair was growing a tad bit longer, more fluffy but never kept neat. My gaze goes down to his lips, his slightly chapped, parted lips.

I feel myself getting warmer by the second, my heart thumping so loud I can almost throw it up. He looks at me, with such eyes that cloud so much thought. And I absolutely feel myself getting weaker just by this, and I absolutely hate it.

I return my gaze to his eyes, “Too shocked to speak?”

Yuta flinches by the sound of my voice, almost as if he was in a haze whilst looking over at me. He then shakes his head, watching his unkept raven hair move as a blush rises to his ears. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes not meeting mine as I can barely make out his muffled voice,

“You’re just… too pretty

[ruershrimo]

take me back (take me with you) | f. megumi x fem! reader | chapter 6: beginning

ao3 link for additional author’s notes | playlist | prev

chapter synopsis:

'“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be shy and scatterbrained, or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen, when in reality it’s just what I want to happen. But this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.”

You haven’t told her you love her too in years.'

'And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.”

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.”

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says.

---

You and Megumi set out to prevent an emergency involving Yuuji and a cursed object. Unfortunately, that doesn't happen. But at least everyone is fine in the end, even if it means you'll have to walk away from almost everything (or maybe it's the other way around).

You're going to be all on your own. Still, now it seems like this will hurt less now.

word count: ~8k; tws: none for now :)

17-6-2018 

The two of you walk down the lane. It’s midnight. There’s a loitering silence in the air, no words exchanged between you and him, and it twists your heart in brief moments of hurt when you’re not trying to keep your mind occupied with other things. Your legs move subconsciously without you caring to think of them, the route to the hospital ingrained in your mind as if intrinsically there. 

At some point, you think your hand with its sweat and its grip is going to leave imprints like a marring on his skin, but it’s of your own selfishness that you choose to hold onto his wrist anyway. 

There’s a million things you could say to him right now, things you’ll forcefully push to the very back of your throat, things you’ll keep under lock and key in a mangled mix of quiet anticipation and sombre anxieties. Right now you’re holding his wrist and that’s enough for you, to have him walking behind you if not beside, to be two people near each other— not together— in silence since any conversation is not an option; any conversation could lead to the last spark needed to be fanned into the flame for it to erupt bigger and brighter than ever before. 

If you asked about Tsumiki right now, or why either of them never bothered to speak to you since 2016, it could break you apart, of that you’re sure. And even without words it threatens to do so to you like a chandelier of melting wax candles hanging above you being suspended precariously from the ceiling or light lightning soon to be thrown down mercilessly from the sky. 

“The turning to Sendai Hospital is on the right.” 

“I know the routes better,” you let out, and rather disappointingly it sounds brasher and more derogatory aloud instead of the unobtrusive tone you were aiming for— you hope it doesn’t hurt him but then wonder why you still even cared that much about how he felt about what you said or did anyway, “I got myself accustomed to taking the one on the left that leads you through. Quick shortcut and all.” 

You’re not looking back, but the light pull of his hand from the hold of your wrist seems to suggest his slight reeling back in a small sense of surprise and an equal amount of shock, as if suddenly remembering the fact you were your own person, that you had your own autonomy as one, because somehow everyone thought you weren’t. 

It’s strange to look back at how you were before: meek, timid. Too shy to speak up. Too innocent to be angered by anything. Always dreaming, mind bleary as if on a cloud in blurred skies, hiding behind the backs of others like a petrified forest critter. 

And now you’re this— this person who frowns and disagrees and retorts at every little thing, and as much as you have to, as much as it was nearly inevitable the way you turned out, all you can think you share with the person you were when you first met Megumi and Tsumiki was your need to be useful— and even that has been exacerbated by how you’ve grown, how you’ve become this person you grew into. And a part of you— no, just you as a whole— doesn’t like yourself at all. 

Your father was right. That little girl was hopeful, obedient, kind, caring— you don’t know why even then you were dissatisfied with the way you were, or why your dissatisfaction would matter because at that time you’d cared so little about everything besides caring for people and having fun with the pair of siblings that you were so rarely bothered by it, that it was still just a slight whisper from the back of your head that could be shushed or tuned out with library visits and nights in front of the TV and the glow of old cartoons. Your father was right and this is proved even more by the fact that the whole situation just infuriates you on the surface, and just makes you feel like an empty, hollow shell left behind when you reach deeper into yourself. 

That little girl had potential, potential to be useful but kind, obedient and close to the people who raised her even if it meant abandoning her own ideals. But you’d been so devoted to them, you think, that she was killed and destroyed in the world she grew up in, and now there’s a space for her that’s left vacant due to the way she wasted away. You miss her, the girl you once were, you miss being her, how easy and lighthearted everything was and how all of you felt so content in every sense of the word. But you don’t want her back. Now that’s just what makes you miserable sometimes. 

Self-reflection just made you feel revolted by yourself. You keep your eyes on the road. 

“It’s here,” you state, pointing at the building in front of you. 

Sendai General Hospital is an institution made out of bare concrete. Its walls are yellowed and close in on its wards like a prison, coloured using old paint that hasn’t been repainted over and is as pallid-looking as the skin of the people sitting on the beds it is inhabited by. Just being in it feels like a hit to the body and the brain and the senses, too. There are old-fashioned tiles on its floors, their pale beige hue muted yet the blinding shine on them harshly mopped clean. Inside it reeks of an imminent presence of sickness or death or illnesses and conditions never to be able to be defeated and sterile sanitisers. Looking at the latex-blue curtains in it feels like a blindfold unwantedly, forcefully pulled over both your vision and your ears. 

“You and that Itadori seem close.” 

“We are,” you say, then you add, not really knowing why, “He’s my best friend.” Maybe you’re trying to make him jealous, rile him up a bit. But even then you wouldn’t want him to be riled up, nor would you be satisfied if he were to keep silent. Maybe you just wanted to hurt him, to hurt him back or something, if only for something small, even if you’d already resolved not to do so. 

You’ll make sure not to do that again, though. 

Instead he does something else, takes another route instead. “Then it seems you visit his grandfather often.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod as the two of you enter the hospital, and you have to blink a few times as always in order to adjust yourself to the light and how it reflects off the detachedly clean floor. “My mother’s here, too.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry— is she alright?” 

“She’s okay, I… think. She… she got sick a while back and stays here now,” you explain, “Let’s not talk about that…—I mean, I… don’t really want to.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to keep saying that.” It just makes people feel worse. 

He doesn’t push further and you suppose that’s okay. Your chest hurts a bit, like phantom pain on a wound that’s still there. There’s not really a way to explain it but almost everything makes you feel that way these days. Everything makes you feel horrible to some degree. Maybe it’s being a girl, maybe it’s being a teenager, but it’s not quite either, you guess. 

“He won’t be here for a while,” you say, “He’s either still in the room where his grandfather is or he’s buying flowers for him.” 

“Then I’ll just contact them and let them know the whole situation first.” 

Who’s ‘them’? 

“Okay.” You turn your back on him, “—wait.” 

“What?” 

“Do you have any emergency contact or something? Like, a trusted adult who could help you with any of this? In case things go really bad?” 

“...why would you need one?” he questions. 

You roll your eyes, “Just give it to me, damn it… if there’s anything I have nowadays, it’s probably foresight for stuff like this. For emergencies.” 

He gives you the number, albeit a bit begrudgingly. Why’d he have to be so pissy about anything and everything? 

“Okay, thanks. I’m going to visit my mother now.” 

The air and the colour from it seems distant as always, the ward she was basically imprisoned in smelling of the indistinguishable mix of sanitiser and sickness. There her body chains her to her bed, and there is little she can do besides rely on and weakly cling to the nurses who assist her, a frail shadow of what she once was. 

“Hi, Mummy.” 

She turns to you, and your chest constricts. Her hair, once much longer, the type that you dreamed to have as it billowed in the wind, the type that invited you caressively to bury yourself in and take in that heady scent of roses that emanated from it— that hair is now replaced with a cloth wrapped around her head. Radiation. Chemotherapy. 

The wrinkles on her face make the difference between her now and her years ago all the more stark. Every visit you come back here, you’ve forced yourself to be acclimated to this new reality, one where she isn’t waiting at home no matter how tedious the fights get or how exhausting it was eating with someone who remained silent, someone who chose to continue suffering if it meant she could hurt and turn her daughter to guilt (as if that would change anything). At least she was there. 

Cancer is a terminal illness, especially the type your mother is facing— regardless of how much chemotherapy she would struggle through and how much you didn’t want to acknowledge a truth so plain and conspicuously bare, she would be confined to this bed until her final days, her illness like gyves tying her limbs and forcing her earthbound; the bed a cage she could never be liberated from. 

Sometimes she made it a point to you that she didn’t want to liberate herself from it anyway, and you’d never been so depressed yet irked by anything else. (You’d regret everything— not spending time with her, not appreciating her nearly enough— except for your decision to be involved in the Jujutsu world, if not as a sorcerer then as a doctor. That was, and is— your ultimatum. Your end all be all of this whole situation.” 

“Hello. Where’s that Itadori boy?” 

“Not here today, he’s still with his grandfather— maybe later.” You swing your bag over your shoulder, rummaging through it a while before pulling it out. “I’ve something for you, by the way.” 

“Oh! These,” she exclaims, and she smiles faintly, bits of colour rushing back to her face like watercolour dots on moistened paper. “I used to make them for you, sometimes. They used to be your favourite when you were really little.” 

“I know,” you explain, “That’s why I made them. I don’t like them anymore, but… I can’t remember your favourite food or if I ever asked, and I know you don’t like the food they give you here as much as… I don’t know. Your own cooking, I guess.” 

“It’s not my favourite,” she states, matter-of-factly, bluntly, “But thank you for the effort. My favourite will always be my own mother’s cooking.” 

Silence. 

“Now that I look back at everything, there are so many things I regret. Things I should have done but never did out of fear; things I should not have done and never apologised for out of pride. I’d like it if you could be different. Your grandmother went out the same way. At least, even if you had the same illnesses as we did, which I hope the genes for which have been curbed by your father’s— at least you would not leave the world with regret,” she looks down at her hands, staring down at them solemnly like a shadow, an excluded figure. “But it was a good life.” 

“...then maybe you can tell me more. While you— while we still have time. What was your childhood like? What was your mother like?” It feels strange, imposturous, maybe— to be referring to someone basically a stranger as “grandmother”, to name someone so far away from you so intimate, even if the only generation between you, tying the two of you together, was your mother’s. If you had a daughter it would be the same for her, most likely. There’s a part of you that would find honour in becoming your mother once you’d grown, but there’s a part of you that would think being such would accost you horribly, for all time. 

She sighs, “I’ll tell you later. There would be so much to say, like compressing all my words into one tiny paper. The stories have weight in them the same way letters and words in handwriting can be firm and large. But if I were to start,” she begins, “I’ll say that I was born as the daughter of two very powerful sorcerers. Now, I know how much this would sound like some nonsense spouted by your mother, but I think you should listen anyway. 

“My parents loved each other a lot, but my mother had come from an obscure clan whose name I can’t remember, but who had high hopes in them having a child with a powerful cursed technique as their last resort, since, if I recall correctly, there had been a crisis within the clan for it to keep surviving. 

“I still remember when they found out I had no cursed technique and how terrified they were. In me I had a bit more than the relatively normal amount of cursed energy most people have, and so I was expected to have techniques as powerful as they did. They loved me and treated me preciously, like a fragile object, so long as I was quiet and demure— and I guess to some extent I still was and still am today. They wondered what they could do to run from the clan, as if they didn’t have enough power when they were supposed to protect me despite my father’s bullheaded industry and my mother’s patience-formed strength. They lacked grit to grapple against them, and only in this did they lack it, I think; only against my mother’s family did they not have the ability to resolve things whether peacefully or violently. And eventually they just gave up and thought they would just… surrender me over when I entered my adolescent years. I was their daughter. I… suppose they didn’t love me enough. I know it sounds awful— thinking that they should have always protected me, through and through—” 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“—when it could have been the clan itself that would have been mostly to blame.” 

“But they were still supposed to protect you! They were your parents—” 

“Why else do you think I am the way I am? I may be a shy and scatterbrained or a horrible woman with a muddled sense of morality or what I think should and should not happen when in reality it’s just what I want to happen, but this is why I’m so resolute, and so stubborn. This is why I love you so fiercely. All mothers are like that to some degree, even if my own would never let me bear witness to it.” You haven’t told her you love her too in years. 

“But then when I was an adult I met your father, who was a bit like a country bumpkin, but a formidable sorcerer and a kind, honest person, and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the person he was both inside and out. And for the next few years we struggled to have a child until I found out I was pregnant with you,” she continues, “Even though by that time I was well into my late thirties, we were overjoyed and decided to keep you.” 

Suddenly you wish there had been more time before things were ruined. Time for you to know her better, the beginning of your existence. You would have begged her for old photos, stories, mementos of her and your father. 

“And now the clan’s faded into obscurity, finally. The younger members left and the older ones passed away peacefully. Happy story, right?” 

“...yeah.” It all ended well, but you don’t know if you can say the same for your mother’s. At least, you hope, when she goes away, it can be swift and peaceful like the way her relatives did. 

Then suddenly there’s a buzz in your pocket. An inconvenient one, out of the blue. 

“You should go get that first,” she says. 

“...okay.” 

You lift it up to your face and feel like crushing the damn thing. Old number. Stupid number. Number you haven’t called in months because you’d given up on that bastard— oh. The two of you were working together now. 

You turn away from your mother, creeping to the edge of the room. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just talked to him, but I think it would be easier if you came back and was there with him too since you know him better than I do. And he… doesn’t seem like the brightest. He may think that it’s not important enough to hand over unless you ask him to or something.” 

You muffle your voice with your hand and whisper, “Hey, you shut up, you know nothing about him. He’s way smarter than people give him credit for. But I’m— I’m with my mother right now. Wait for a second. Just ask him to wait for me first; he wouldn’t need any of my help for all of this yet. Make a friend or get a life or something.” 

“...fine. But you’ll have to join us later. He’s bound to ask about you.” 

“Then just tell him I’m with my mother!” you snap, still whispering. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Wh— you little— oh, don’t you hang up now—” 

Weird thing is, he probably wasn’t even being so infuriating on purpose. And you wouldn’t have burst out at someone for being that way anyway. It was only because it was him, specifically. 

You’d sworn to put that past you. 

Your immaturity strikes once again. 

“If you have to go now,” your mother says, “You should. Just come back again next time. I can tell you the rest. Thank you again for the food, [Name].” She doesn’t call you ‘darling’ anymore, doesn’t she? Just your name. 

“Okay. Sorry.” 

You swing the bag back over your shoulder, wearing it this time instead of taking it off, easing your way out of the room. 

“It’s okay,” she assures you, “Goodbye. I love you.” 

“...I love you, too,” you say, but it’ll mingle with all the other sounds in the hospital, and it’ll be drowned out like a ship in the middle of nowhere, your voice soft and thoroughly soused by the cacophony of bleak noises like telephone rings and beeps from electrocardiographs outside of her deafeningly quiet hospital room. 

“Hi, Yuuji,” you greet them in the dimly lit waiting area, “...and Megumi. Sorry to keep the two of you guys waiting for so long.” 

“Oh, hey; it’s okay!” he goes, although in his voice it seems that there’s been some of his usual energy seeping away from him. “Didn’t know the two of you knew each other until just now or that you were a part of some magic curse society. Are you guys childhood friends who met because of all that cursed stuff or something?” 

“Something like that,” Megumi explains. 

“It’s a long story,” you say, not exactly denying him nor conceding his words anyway. Once again, there’s a trace of anger despite your promise to be untethered to your puerility like this. “Anyway, are you okay, Yuuji? How’s your grandfather?” 

He pauses. “Oh, about that… he just passed away.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Yuuji…” you hold the fabric of his jacket (sometimes it still feels wrong to try and hold his hand— it just makes your heart ache again like a scab being clawed at) and pull him into a brief caress, patting his back as gently as you can manage. 

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine,” he smiles as you pull yourself away, “Grandpa wouldn’t want me to be crying right now anyway. So don’t worry.” 

“Okay, I won’t. But if you’re sad, just know you can always talk to me.” 

He laughs, softer than the boisterous manner he usually does so in, “Yeah, I know.” 

Megumi clears his throat, pointedly trying to make a sound, “Anyway. Itadori Yuuji—” 

“Just call him Itadori. You don’t have to be so uptight.” 

“Nah, [Name], I’m fine—” 

Megumi sighs. “Anyway, we need you to give the cursed object now.” 

“Oh, yeah, that,” you start, “So, Yuuji, do you have the thing that Megumi would have explained to you? The cursed object? We need it for everyone to be safe, and all.” 

“Yeah! Hold on, let me get it. I told you I didn’t have it already, but here’s the box,” he says, tossing it over to Megumi. 

He retrieves the box. It’s ancient and wooden, the craftsmanship behind it elite and adroit, and the paper on it has the words for a buddhist sutra written on it like an inscription. You’ve heard of it before, the kind of curse it was meant to seal, but it definitely couldn’t be— 

He opens the box. 

Holy shit. 

“Where is it?” 

“It’s empty…” Megumi panics, “Wait— hold on!” 

Things are bad— as in, they couldn’t get any worse— not only was the school doomed by the loss of its cursed object, the cursed object was Sukuna Ryomen’s finger itself. 

You blame your inadequacy, your inability to have stopped everything sooner— if not for that nobody would have gotten hurt. If not for that there wouldn’t even be a risk of anything happening anyway. You should’ve tried harder to sense it, and you should’ve focused more on it to keep the student body safe and sound. 

It was your fault. No one else was to blame but your useless self, and even if that were wrong, you’d still have the most to be blamed for. 

Megumi has a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder, keeping the other boy from moving, his breathing erratic and his eyes wide in frantic shock. 

“...well, they were saying, ‘let’s open it up to see what’s inside it tonight’,” Yuuji clarifies, standing a few centimetres away from the door, “Why? Is that bad?” 

Sasaki and Iguchi? 

The air in the hospital feels particularly chilly tonight, gooseflesh terrorising your skin all over, and for all the kinds of reasons that would cause anything like such. 

“It’s way worse than bad,” Megumi declared, fear and grim so thick in his voice they were tangible enough to be cut through with a knife. “Your friends are going to die.” 

“We’ve got to go,” you rush, “Now! Quick!” 

It passes by like a blur, as if you’re in that moment and out of it simultaneously. Your mind has been bombarded with and pressed so thoroughly onto the moment, like tissue on a wet surface, that it seems it’s being blanked out, while your legs continue to run despite your mind nearly forgetting, at this point, why you’re running— as if your legs moving so frantically to help them was something intrinsic, something you didn’t need your mind for. 

Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. Sasaki and Iguchi are in danger. 

You didn’t know them all too well, really— just through Yuuji, and Yuuji himself wasn’t as close to the two of them, being their junior and all. And although a part of you was doing this just because you could, like the way you did when you first discovered your cursed technique, you knew that another was doing this for Yuuji. If in any way they were hurt or could not survive, he would blame himself to no end. He possessed such a kindness within him, so much that it hit the depths of your soul sometimes; shattered your heart so gently a million times over or heated it in the kindly way mothers heated pans on stoves despite the heat of it being greater than that of blue flame. If anything happened to them, no matter how much or how little he knew of them, he wouldn’t be able to live after that. 

The two of them are near the barrier separating the school from the street before you (you struggle with catching up to them— one’s a star athlete and another has been training for much longer than you, you’re sure), the gates tall and enveloped in darkness. You didn’t think much of school except for when it came to your grades and being with Yuuji, thinking of these gates— the ones that you and Yuuji use when you’re running super late— in particular as just a shortcut entrance you paid little attention to, just something treated with indifference as you passed through them whenever you were late. Yet now they echoed denial, refusal, and slim chances— it was unlikely that they’d be alright, especially since this cursed object in particular was the finger of Sukuna Ryomen. 

“Is that the building?” Megumi questions, “Where are they?” 

“Fourth floor— guh!” Yuuji seems to come to an abrupt halt, nearly slamming into what seems to be an invisible wall. A veil. 

“Yuuji!” 

“I’ll handle this,” Megumi declares, hopping onto the metal wires, more directed to Yuuji than you. So even he can tell how selfless Yuuji is, even after only having just met him. 

“I may not know those two that well, but—” Yuuji starts, “But they’re friends! I have to help!” 

“You’re staying here,” Megumi commands, “[Name], if you could— get your father or any sorcerers you know to come here and help.” 

He climbs over the gate. 

He’s going away from you again. Slipping away from your grasp. And now, all you can do is watch. There’s nothing else— nothing else you can do, at all. If you went inside now, you wouldn’t be able to help except— what?— tend to their injuries? Manipulate your own cells into weapons? The former wasn’t possible with how much you’d strained yourself from running so quickly earlier, and the latter was too dangerous: you hadn’t even started with the basics of that yet, on your father’s obstinate insistence that even if he’d let you play doctor he wouldn’t let you manipulate any of the cells in your body into any kind of usable weapon. Any simple wrong move could make things turn south in the most drastically terrifying of ways. If you went in there, you’d just die, and there’d be more casualties, more trouble, more problems caused by you and you alone. 

You can’t even call your father, either. That would always be your last resort— because even if you fought, you still needed him to rest. You didn’t want him overexerting himself by using his cursed technique at all. 

(You were selfish. You didn’t want to lose your father. You didn’t want to have to visit not one but two parents lying sick and tired and grey in matching hospital beds.) 

“Yuuji?” you start, turning to him. “You’re…deathly quiet. Are you okay?” 

His lips quiver slightly, a faint whimpering noise coming out of him. Is he crying? 

“Yuuji, look at me. Are you okay?” you ask, as gently and softly as you can right now, despite your ragged, unsteady, unathletic-addled breaths. You place a hand on his shoulder, slowly rubbing up and down from his shoulder and crook of his neck to his back. “It’s okay. …Megumi’s a good and… capable, strong person and jujutsu sorcerer. He’ll be okay, and they’ll be okay too. Just… just put your trust in him, okay?” 

“I’m sorry, [Name], but I’ve got to go,” he tells you, “You stay here, and call for help or something. I’m sorry, but I’ve just really got to do it!” 

He hugs you, quickly, deftly. And then he crosses the gate, leaving you all alone like Megumi did. You wish he’d hug you longer, that you could take care of him for a little longer— it was your last way to be useful now. 

Still, there’s someone you could call, now that you remember him.

The emergency contact. 

You snatch your phone out, resolute. 

“Hello! Gojo Satoru speaking,” the voice on the other line says. 

You’ve heard it plenty before by accident. 

When Gojo and Megumi are back, Yuuji’s in the form of a figure slung over Gojo’s shoulders like he’s been reply entrenched into slumber, his body seemingly limp and his torso completely bare. There’s barely an ounce of movement in him, except for slow exhales and inhales you can see on his chest. Sasaki and Iguchi are both nearly the same, the former covered in bruises and in a deep, panicked haze, and the latter as asleep as Yuuji seemed to be while harbouring injuries he may never recover from. 

The only non-roughed up one here is Gojo, it seems; Megumi has a stream of blood running from the top of his head in rivulets, staining his sweaty, scraped forehead. 

“Wh— you two, what happened? Why are they all asleep? What happened to Yuuji? Are they okay? What—” 

“Calm down, kid,” Gojo says, “They’ll be fine. I mean, there’s a 100% chance that your friend can be executed, but…” 

“Executed?” you almost scream, “What the hell happened? You said things would be okay!” 

“Uh-uh, again, calm down. I mean, we don’t even know when they’re gonna make him kick the bucket! He ate Sukuna’s finger, by the way.” He holds his arms up in faux surrender. 

“Gojo you ignorant slut! Don’t you fucking dare tell me to ‘calm down!’ He ate Sukuna’s finger? Why weren’t you able to stop anything? What’s going to happen to him now? You know what— give him to me!” 

“You know, it’s not like I’m scared of being hunted down by your father if you use your cursed technique— I mean, I’m leagues stronger than him— but the stuff was too strong. It’s not like you’ll be able to get rid of the finger in your little boyfriend.” 

“He’s not her boyfriend!” Megumi interjects.

“Thank you, Megumi!” Your face is going hot like a campfire fanned by the wind. 

“Oh?” Gojo adds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Anyway, we’re going to get him to a place where we can cover everything with talismans to surround him.” 

They’re going to execute him at Jujutsu High after.  

“I’m coming with you.” 

“You sure?” Gojo asks, “Your father isn’t going to like you travelling so far away without telling him.” 

Megumi shifts, a little sombre. “[Name], you don’t have to.” 

“...I’m doing this for Yuuji, not for you.” 

“You okay?” Gojo asks while the three of you are back in the hospital. (You hate this building so much.) Iguchi’s been transferred to a ward, Sasaki having woken up and insisting on staying with him. “I’ve got kikufuku if you want some. You must be really tired since it’s so late, huh?” 

The whole situation is so incredulous you’re unsure of whether you want to burst out laughing or dismember someone. 

“...nothing. Wait, let me see Yuuji again.” 

Everyone is asleep, it seems— all except for you and Gojo. Yuuji’s been knocked out, and Megumi’s stuck in the world of his dreams. 

You can’t sleep. There’s just nothing to put your mind at rest. 

At least if there’s one thing you can do it’s this. 

Gojo picks him up by the sides of his torso (now temporarily clothed with a spare white shirt) like a child with a heavy book. “Woah— he’s pretty heavy for a fifteen year old kid.” 

You lay Yuuji face-up on the line of hospital chairs. There are thin scarlet marks right under his eyes— Sukuna’s eyelids, you’ve been told. 

You should’ve done more to protect him. 

Slowly, reticently, you kneel by the side of the chairs. You press your fingertips onto that pair of thin tiny lines. 

Nothing happens. You can’t picture his cells being able to grow back. It’s as if there’s been a slit on his face and its outline has been replaced with brand-new skin. His cells don’t budge. 

“Why don’t you help Megumi? I bet he’s got plenty of healable injuries.” 

“…I don’t think I’ll be able to help much. I could faint if I try helping him now. It’s better to leave it to Dr Ieiri or something.” 

“Pft,” he scoffs, “Shoko? She’s definitely not going to heal all of him. It’ll just be a waste of her time. You can just help him with the tiny scrapes and bruises first. And I’ll even tell her that you did it. She’s really fond of you, you know.” 

You give him a shy, modest smile. “Thanks, then.”

It’s time to get to work. 

Megumi’s skin is smooth like a baby’s just like the last time you felt it, though the frown on his face, ever-present, is bound to cause wrinkles there in less than a few decades’ time. You place your hands on him, bruised and bloody, watching in your mind and directing his cells as they work. 

Once the smaller injuries have been dealt with, you stop. “I can’t really work on the one on his head, since then you’d get another fainted person to carry around, but he should be fine with some bandages and patching-up there, because I’ve already kind of catalysed the start of that area’s healing process a little. Other than that, he should be completely fine. I’ll give it, say… two weeks or so for it to get better completely.” 

“Good work!” he smiles, the outline of his cheeks visible on his blindfold. 

“By the way, Mr Gojo…” 

“You know, I appreciate the respect you’re giving me now, but just Gojo is fine.” 

“Okay, Gojo. Do you think Yuuji will be okay?” 

“I mean, I’m pretty sure. And I’m going to ask them to suspend his sentence. I’ll just see whether he wants that or not once he wakes up.” 

“That’s the thing. I’m not sure if he even will.” 

Gojo laughs. “Don’t worry. He was really strong, and able to switch between being possessed by Sukuna and being himself at will. We haven't seen that kind of talent in a millennia! I’m sure they’ll listen to me, anyway.” 

“Thank you,” you sigh. Thank goodness. “If you need any type of payment, um… teleport to my house whenever you get inconvenient little cuts like bruises and stuff. I can help.” 

“Nah, reverse cursed technique’s got me covered.” 

“Oh, wait— I forgot about that— um… I can…”

“Just leave it to me! No payment required,” he exclaims, holding both thumbs up. “And for the record, the one who wanted to save Yuuji was actually Megumi.” 

You wouldn’t have imagined that would happen. Megumi— pragmatic, serious, unkind when he needs to be (no matter how kind of a person he actually is— no, was— at heart), different from Tsumiki in so many ways. There was no way he would have been the one vouching for Yuuji, someone he’d only just met, to be spared. 

“Really?” you ask, “I… wouldn’t have thought he was the one who would do it. I thought, maybe, you were just… really kind tonight or something…”

“Well, maybe it was because he saw how much you cared about Itadori and did it for you, or maybe he had met Itadori, liked him, and just wanted to save a good person,” Gojo suspects, “But if there’s one thing for sure it’s that your old friend saved your new one.” 

“...oh.” 

You’ll have to bring it up with him next time— maybe, if he’s still there tomorrow…

“I know you’re mad at him, but a lot has happened,” Gojo states, voice lower, softer like a schoolteacher’s, “Still, I won’t tell you that you have to give him a chance or any of that. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to thank him or anything. I’m sure he did it out of his own volition without expecting anything from you. He knew he probably didn’t deserve to if it were you.” 

You pause. “No, it’s just… I’ll talk to him again the next time I see him. Alone, most likely. And I can figure something out. I think that would be the best way to go around things. Thank you, Gojo.” 

18-6-2018 

The aftershocks are still there, although you’ve come out unscathed. 

Last night was a mingled mess, a blur. You’d tried your best to help Iguchi by the time Yuuji was placed in the room of talismans and you could come back to the hospital and visit, but in the end he still needed better help than that. His injuries were too large of scale for how you were at that moment, already tired after healing some of the numbers done on Megumi. 

(You were useless. You couldn’t help anyone. You couldn’t prevent Yuuji from being hit with such soul-striking guilt., couldn’t help Sasaki from being traumatised, couldn’t help Iguchi enough for him to be back at school soon—) 

Sasaki’s injuries were limited to bruises and scrapes, but though you could help her physically, there was nothing you could do to assist her emotionally. 

You stayed with them for a few hours in the ICU and then one of the hospital wards (a floor under your mother’s), your father calling you once the sun had risen. 

“Gojo Satoru told me about everything that happened.” 

“Yeah. I know you’ll scold me, but… not now. I’m sorry, I’m just really tired.” You hang up. 

For all you spoke of wanting to be useful, the night when your powers were needed the most was when you were at your most useless— you couldn’t help them, you couldn’t help attack the cursed spirits, and the only thing you could do was call for an adult’s help like a little, scared and helpless girl. 

You needed to train, and train harder than you had been doing for the past few years. 

There’s a knock on the door, a dot-dot-dot-dot-dot. dot dot. It’s Yuuji, you know it is. How ever could you not? 

Timidly, movements quiet like the room itself, you pull the door knob, seeing him there, relatively unscathed. You sigh in relief, a moment’s respite before you return to the panic you had been living in before since you deserve the respite less than other people do— no, you don’t deserve such a break at all, you’re absolutely sure of that, not after what you pulled, how horribly and utterly useless you were, you’ll remind yourself of that again and again and again— the heart-piercing guilt and the worry and the constant need to care for the people around you, almost like a mother, maybe, but you don’t like that thought as much as you think you should. Maybe if your own mother knew, she’d disagree— maybe she’d tell you that you should be a mother, maybe she’d ignore that you were also a child at certain times— the most convenient ones, probably. When she thinks it good that you, a child, were someone’s caretaker because women should take pride in and appreciate that, she would encourage you to be one; when she thinks it bad that as a caretaker and a so-called ‘adult’ you can have your own autonomy, agency and opinions, then maybe she’d remind you that in her eyes you knew nothing of the world. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a chance that she wouldn’t be like that in any way. 

But you wouldn’t put it past her. 

“Yuuji, are you okay?” There are questions about to spill out of you, tears about to fall like gushing rivers, but you’re just happy he’s alive at this point. 

“Yeah.” His voice is soft. Your chest twinges; it hurts like an awful, intransigent little bruise. “Hi, [Name].” It feels so unignorable, the way it’s filled with such sorrow and worry that it weighs his usually loud and boisterous voice down. 

“I thought that—” you start, lips trembling, “I thought there was a chance I couldn’t lose you. The only thing I could do was—” you sniffle, “Hope that they could delay it or something.” 

“Yeah. I’ll explain it later,” he says, his voice sincere. 

You squeeze the wrist of his sleeve. “Don’t do things like that ever again,” you plead, “Promise me that at least.” 

“I promise.” 

“And keep your promises.”

“I will.” 

“...want to come inside?” 

He walks inside, and you step back to make way for him. 

“Sorry I came so late,” he says to you and Sasaki, who shakes her head in reassurance. “Hello, Sasaki,” he greets, “Is Iguchi okay?” 

They speak for a while— you don’t feel like it’s much of your right to join their conversation, since you did nearly nothing at all when they were most in danger, so you leave them be for a while. It would be better not to bother them right now, anyway. They’ve both been traumatised until it reached beneath their bones within the past twenty-four hours. 

When you leave the hospital, Sasaki tells you that she’s going to stay. You tell her to take care, squeezing her hand one final time. 

You let her, patting her on the back. You’ll call them later— she’d given you her contact— just to check on the two of them. 

“Where’s Megumi?” you ask Yuuji. 

“Oh, Fushiguro? I’m not too sure, but that Gojo guy said he’ll be there soon.” 

“Where, though?”

Sheepishly, in peak Yuuji fashion, he scratches the back of his neck. “Actually, another reason why I came here was also because… I mean, I know you and him weren’t close, but I’m going to the place where they’ll keep Grandpa’s ashes, and I think… you know, you could come with me. I… I don’t think I’d be able to do it really well alone, even though he had definitely made it clear he seriously didn’t want me moping around after his death and all. Gojo and Megumi will probably be there, but I thought it would be better if you were there because I know you better than those two, and you’re my friend. So… could you come with me? I know that he never really showed it, but I think he had always liked you a lot. Like, he was happy we were friends and stuff.” 

“...mhm. I’ll always be happy about that,” you tell him, before pulling him into a hug. The guy must need one right now. You’ve never hugged him before. Your heart hurts. 

The air is hot and humid with the breath of summer, bundles of mosquitoes bound to be breeding new ones these next few weeks. Up in the sky is the sun, bold and bright, glaring down harshly at the two of you. 

“Before he passed away, Grandpa actually said something. He… kind of cursed me, if I’m being honest,” Yuuji starts. “He said I was a strong kid, so I should help people. And I’m going to do that. So that was why when Gojo asked if I wanted to be executed immediately or just eat all the fingers before dying, I chose the second option. I… I think I want to help people that way.” 

‘You’ve already helped people enough. You helped me,’ you almost tell him. 

You frown, because that’s the only thing you can do right now. You search for words to say the same way you do looking for dog books in libraries chock-full with those of other genres. “I’m… disappointed, I— I know I should be grateful, grateful that you’re still going to be alive and all, but… you’re still going to be in danger, and you’re still going to be executed one day. I mean, again, I know I should be happy you’re going to have more time alive and that I can still see you, but what if things don’t go as planned? What if you lose control of yourself once you reach, like, the fifth finger or something?” 

You’re selfish like that. In a way, you’re just the way your mother is. You should’ve always known— you were her beloved daughter after all, and the people you know would be loved the same way she did you since the day she knew of your existence, and maybe even before that. 

“Don’t worry,” he grins, wide as always. Even in an over-enveloping darkness he still manages to be the light. “I’ll be just fine. I’m a strong kid, after all. And we’ll always be friends!” 

Gojo asks if he and Yuuji can talk in private for a while. You wonder if this was how your mother felt as she had to give the person she loved most away (but you will have to go away, one day), because you can briefly tell what Gojo is going to ask. You wonder if she felt this twice. 

Yuuji can’t stay with you forever. In the same way you can’t remain by your mother and father’s sides for all eternity. 

This won’t be the last time you’re here, you think. For a place of death, it’s quite a bit beautiful how there’s such large masses of grass and plants surrounding it. 

Megumi nearly walks past you, his eyes on the old photographs of the deceased all around him. 

“Megumi.” 

He turns around. 

“I just wanted to thank you for wanting to save my friend, even if you may not have wanted to do it for me, specifically… um… I didn’t expect that you’d still be here. Are your injuries okay?” 

“I’m okay,” he answers you. “And also, I…” he hesitates, the first time he’s talked to you for something actually related to the two of you in a long time— nearly two years if you’re counting correctly, but the thoughts in your head are a bit too jumbled to count at the moment. “I didn��t really do it for you, though. It… it was for Tsumiki.” 

“Oh.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, that didn’t… come out right. But I should also apologise for something else. You wouldn’t have been thrown into this world anyway if not for my own demon dogs years ago.” 

“No, no, it wasn’t your fault. And I would have wanted to be in it anyway. There’s not many who can heal other people and all, so I just thought… even if I can’t do as much yet, since I don’t have reversed cursed technique and the drawbacks that come from mine are really bad, I can still help people sometimes if they’re dealing with relatively minor injuries. I can, um… make things easier for people. I can be useful like that. I’d keep to it anyway, because I’m stubborn, but… yeah. It wasn’t your fault, really.” 

“Okay. That’s good to hear.” 

“Yeah. Anyway, I’m happy to know that Tsumiki is okay.” 

Silence again for a while. The air turns a little more sombre, and a lot more awkward. 

“She is. And Itadori seems… like a good person. I think it’s good, that… you were able to find a friend like that.” 

“It was. He’s a really, really good guy.” 

“You love him a lot,” Megumi says. 

“I do. He’s a really good friend. If there’s something I’ll always know I know that, at least.” 

“I can see that. It doesn’t seem like he loves you back in the same way, though.” 

“...wow. Way to be blunt, Megumi. And yes, I do know that, too.” 

“Let’s just… change the subject.” 

“You’re the one who introduced it in the first place.” 

“Okay. How… how are you?” 

“I’m good. Wait, I think you should… go back to them. Maybe they’ll need you there right about now. He’s probably going to have to go to Jujutsu High, right?” 

He pauses. “Yeah. I’m sorry, [Name].” 

“No, no. That’s okay. I expected it. It’s just that I’ll miss him a lot,” you tell him, “He took care of me, kind of. You know I’ve always been a bit of an awkward or shy person, but he still approached me since I was new and we ended up hitting off as friends, kind of. We did a lot of stuff together.” 

Sounds pretty familiar, huh. 

“If you want I can make sure he’s safe for you.” 

“...you should be able to do that regardless of whether it’s my wish for you to do so or not…” you state, “But that would help, I guess. And I’m sorry for my attitude towards you for the past few hours or so. Thank you again.” 

“...I’m sorry I never spoke to you for so long, by the way,” he says abruptly. ‘By the way’? Classic Megumi… 

“I could tell you were. It’s… it’s okay. The two of you kind of have a habit of doing that.” 

All your rage, your loneliness, your feelings of abandonment— and this is all you can do. This is all you can say. You can only just let it go, in the end. 

“I’ll explain it all one day.” 

“You don’t have to if it’s hard.” 

He stays. “No, I will. I promise. And I promise I’ll start to talk to you again, as well. I was just… scared of a few things, maybe.” 

“That’s okay.” 

The two of you aren’t quite friends again yet, but it’ll happen soon. Maybe. And even if it doesn’t, you’re finally able to say, with an open, honest heart, that that doesn’t matter as much anymore. 

“I guess this is goodbye again, then.” 

“Not really.” 

“Oh, right— promise to keep in touch, okay? My patience is running thin with you,” you chuckle at that last part, attempting to joke and make things lighter again. 

“Promise.” 

“I’m going to go home now, by the way. Please tell Yuuji that I wish him the best and I’ll visit when I have my own money to visit Tokyo and all.” 

“I will.” 

“And help me say goodbye to him for me,” you add, “Hope that’s not too much for you to do. Sorry for the trouble. It’s just that I’d actually just about cry if I had to do it in real time right in front of him. Be good to him and be good friends, okay? Keep that promise, at the very least. That’s the one thing that I wish for the most.” 

“Bye, Megumi.” You turn back in the direction opposite of his. 

“Wait—!” 

His hand is on your wrist. Now you’re in front of him, like yesterday, and he’s holding your wrist, albeit a bit gentler than the way he used to pull it a whole eight years ago. 

His eyes are cast away from you, slightly avoidantly and in a way that’s a bit abashed. “I’ll miss you, [Name].” 

“It won’t even feel like I’m not there,” you say. Though his grip is slightly tight, he loosens it as soon as you try to slide it up, as if he’d let you be free of it if you want him to. 

You squeeze his hand instead, turning to face him. It feels warm. It feels like there’s blood coursing through you, the sensation more tender and tangible than it’s ever been. 

“Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye, [Name]. I’ll… I’ll call.” 

“Thank you.” 

Now you’re the one slipping away from his grasp. You move your hand away and walk back. The door slides open. 

2010. Springs, summers, autumns, winters. Hands on wrists, a back faced to your eyes, wide with innocence. Warmth and laughter and happiness and love. Days coloured with vibrant hues and time spent with dog books and in libraries. Frowns were greeted with smiles. Hesitance was non-existent. You didn’t feel a need to compensate for your uselessness. You were a child. You didn’t feel useless at all. You just felt this: a constant leaping in your heart, the corners of your mouth twisting up into a juvenile grin, braiding someone’s beautiful brown hair and tying it with a pretty cherry hair tie. 

You want to cry as you walk back home. 

You’re pretty sure you do. 

taglist:

@bakananya, @sindulgent666, @shartnart1, @lolmais, @mechalily, @pweewee, @notsaelty, @nattisbored

(please send an ask/state in the notes if you'd like to join! if I can't tag your username properly, I've written it in italics. so sorry for any trouble!)

[witch128chick]

i watched the toh pilot episode, here's my reaction

ooookay i so wasn't expecting what i just watched- I WANT MORE

(if you haven't watched it yet but want to do it without spoilers then don't open this)

alright alright i lost my shit actually

Amity stood up for Luz and the fact that she said this was the first time anyone had done that for her is just so sad...

and Luz gave her a drawing as a 'thank you' ( ꒦ິ ཀ ꒦ິ ) she's so sweet

oh and also!!!! first bigger change is that Amity was an exchange student in the human realm! i wonder why her parents sent her there and if there's any angsty reason for that (cuz yk yeah i'm a sucker for angst esp if it's Amity related)

my first thought when i saw this frame: "if i could picture how my mind looks like this would be it"

girly just casually grabbed a key and travelled between realms- do most witches and demons have a portal key or is it exclusive??

Luz met Eda!!! also they teleported later- so cool (ง ◉ _ ◉)ง

i heard that the Owl House was meant to be a shop first and now we can see how it would've looked like!

awww Luz is so excited!!! i love her (˶˃⤙˂˶)

that ceiling looks so prettyyy

Luz i have to say it again and i will never stop saying it: i love you you're amazing pls never change

another bigger change!! Lilith is headmistress in the high school!!! and everyone's afraid of her- shes's a boss bitch and ik she's evil but i love her

girllll--- (ง ͠ಥ_ಥ)ง why are you like this???? you had no business being this mean-

she threw away Luz's drawing from earlier whyyyy (·•᷄∩•᷅ )

side note: the demon on the left is Boscha's pilot?? yk 3 eyes and everything...

i loved this scene! Lilith is so cool and everything! and i absolutely love the sibling mocking between them it's priceless-

and said mockery pissed Lilith off sm that she turned into a beast ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ does she have the curse in this version? is it really a curse or can Lilith turn into that thing whenever she wants to??

soooooooo omg- i can't Lilith got trapped... somewhere!!!! and her hand is chopped off now

i am soo curious about this like what happens to her after this??? where does she go? how does she get back? will she seek revenge??

oh uhm all i wanted to say regarding this frame is that guys- yes. relatable

Luz is literally this emoji 🧍🏼‍♀️just in a lying position

noooooo this was sooo sweet!!! (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)♡

i love how it was Eda who screamed bc the drawing that Amity threw out the window hit her in the head-

Eda complimented Luz's drawing and omg it touched her sm (っ˃̣̣̥ -˂̣̣̥ς) she only felt accepted and understood by Eda i'm so sad rn

and the biggest plot twist happened

i am not okay

EDA'S WORKING FOR THE EC??????? since when? how? why???

i'm guessing Lilith is also working for the Emperor but like Edaaaaaaaaaaa

i can't get over this

i saw someone say smth about a betrayal and this scene but i wasn't expecting THIS

tho i'm pretty sure Eda wouldn't hand Luz over (but i do have some alternative ideas for how this could play out)

is Eda cursed here too? how would she get another key to send Luz back to the human realm? what happened to Lilith??? where's Camila? we saw Amity starting to change her mind about Luz but how different her arc would've been here from canon???

i am so fixated on this rn this will occupy my brain for a good few weeks i think

and i absolutely hate myself for wanting to write a fanfic for this- I HAVE TOO MANY PROJECTS AND IDEAS ALREADY!!

but guys pls if you see anyone writing a fic for this lmk!!!

so yea i'm crazy rn i loved this and will definitely watch it again

the lore, the questions...

[orshii]

Will I ever see you again? CHAPTER 2: Slow Down

Author: orshii

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x reader

Warning: cursing, violence, alcohol consumption, drug use

Word count: 5 k

Summary: You were left alone with your brother, Yunho, and his best friend Hongjoong, after your parents' death. Yunho had someone to grieve with, but you? You had no one as your brother and his best friend pushed you away, singing becoming your only savior. There was one rule that Yunho made inside his friend group: “Don’t touch my sister”. And for this reason, Hongjoong had always kept his distance. But one night, you find yourself in danger. And from then on, Hongjoong does not leave your side. He is suddenly overprotective of you, and your relationship shifts and becomes fraught with tension and unspoken feelings, with secrets lurking beneath the surface and a painful past haunting you. Will you find out the secrets your brother and best friend have been keeping away from you? Will you be able to finally free yourself from your cruel past?

Will you fall in love amidst the chaos around you?

A/N: Chapter 2 is here finally, sorry for updating so late, I just needed to figure out some things in the story. More secrets are coming to the surface and their connection gets a little...hotter. Poor Wooyoungie tho. Idk about you but I love this possessive Hj haha, and it'll get more interesting. Thank you for reading, byee!

Taglist: @bvidzsoo @vixensss @deltamoon666 @scarfac3 @chatsgotmytongue @xiang-zalea (taglist is open if interested)

The four men stared at me like they were the hunters and I was their prey.

"Now that fucker, Yunho, will give back the money he owns us, for sure." The tallest man said, stepping closer to me.

I slowly stood up; they were only inches apart from me. I inhaled deeply, trying to get myself together. There was no point in panicking. No one was here to save me, I needed to save myself. I looked around, two men were standing on my right side and the other two were on my left side. They were blocking my car, the takeaway food was splashed on the dirty ground, and my bag with my keys was meters away from me, getting to my car wasn't a choice now; I needed to run.

"What money?" I asked and slowly, very carefully stepped back, trying to appear confident.

"Your brother robbed us, and took all of our money, so he will pay now." Again, the tallest man stepped closer to me as I stepped back. I guessed he was their leader.

He grabbed my chin and lifted it aggressively, "We should play a little with this slut." His mouth was barely inches away from my face. I felt disgusted.

Fuck, this isn't good. I needed to think, very quickly. Suddenly, Hongjoong’s words were echoing in my brain.

If your timing is perfect, your enemy will be on the floor in seconds.

 I remembered what Hongjoong taught me. Four against one isn't fair. I can't just knock them all out. A stupid plan started to form in my mind as I took in my surroundings carefully, analyzing where I could run, and I knew— It was now or never baby. The man was trying to say something when I suddenly shouted.

"Look, what is that?!" I said as the four men looked behind themselves. I quickly punched the man in front of me, right in his solar plexus, and he was on the floor in seconds. But I had no time to wander around. I started to run, run for my fucking life. I ran opposite my car, into the dark streets. I looked behind me and the three men were running after me, the fourth a little behind. I was breathing heavily, I wasn't used to running, it was ridiculous, this predicament was a joke. Adrenaline crawled through my body as I was still running, and looking behind my back, I saw the four men slowing down. I guess they weren’t used to running, fuckers. I knew this town just like the back of my hand, so I knew a place where I could hide, I just needed to get there.

I ran down short and narrow streets, turning left, then right. I don't fucking know what kept me going, but the adrenaline pumping through my body gave me some kind of superpower. I even climbed over fences; I was running like the Flash. I didn't recognize myself, it was as if someone kept me going, giving me the power to go, to not stop. Then I let myself look behind me again, and I saw no one.

However, I didn't stop running until I reached an old building where we always played with Yunho when we were little. The memories suddenly hit me at once: numerous times when we’d snuck out with Yunho to play here because somehow, we felt happy and safe here. That is why I came to this place, it always gave us security, making me believe that I would be safe this time too. When I finally went into the building and sat down, I held my breath for a short minute, just to make sure no one was following me, and that was when I finally started to panic. Suddenly, everything hit me like I was a punching bag. I took quick breaths, trying to understand what the hell happened mere minutes ago.

 Did they try to kill me? Who knows what the hell they wanted to do to me…

What the fuck did Yunho get into? What money were they talking about?

My body was shaking from running and from the overwhelming emotions that flew through my system. I started sobbing, lifting my knees to my chest, grabbing my hair with my hands. Then I started to laugh, at this whole situation, at the fact that my stupid plan worked. I needed to cry because I did not know what all of this was, I was so confused about what just happened. My heart was beating fast, it felt like it might explode at some point. After ten minutes, somehow, I got myself together, and after breathing in and out a few times, I pulled my phone out to text Yunho.

ME: Someone fucking attacked me, and they talked about some money you owe them. What the fuck Yunho?

For a moment, quiet overtook the abandoned house, and then suddenly, my phone's screen lit up. Yunho was calling me.

"Where the fuck are you?" I heard Yunho's voice immediately as I picked up.

"At the old abandoned house." I told him.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly.

"Yes, I ran away." I said quietly.

"Stay there, don't go out until we arrive!" He said, his voice furious, and hung up quickly.

I waited in the dark, it swallowed me like I was one with it. I just stared at the white wall in front of me, which seemed almost black from the lack of lightning as it barely lit up the abandoned house due to the streetlights being faulty.

I didn’t even realize how much time had gone by when I finally heard a car quickly stopping with its tires screeching and two doors slamming shut. I stood up and looked out the window, and saw Yunho and Hongjoong. Of course, Hongjoong just couldn’t stay out of this. I stepped out of the building and was met with two pairs of worried eyes. Yunho quickly ran towards me and hugged me.

"Fuck, are you okay?" He grabbed my face to check if I was hurt.

"Yes, I'm okay." I pushed his hands away.

"What the fuck happened?" Hongjoong asked, stepping closer to me and checking my body, trying to find an injury.

"I was at Granny's ordering some food and when I went out to my car, suddenly four men appeared and they pushed me onto the ground—and they were talking about some fucking money and Yunho—I somehow ran away, I was lucky, I guess—I don't get it, what the hell—who are they?" I quickly told them what happened, stammering as I felt overwhelmed again.

"Fuck, this is because you couldn't shut your mouth, Yunho!" Hongjoong said, angrily looking at him.

"What the fuck, Hong?! It was necessary for our plan, what else could I do, do tell me, please!" Yunho shouted at Hongjoong.

"They fucking attacked Y/N! Who knows what the hell they are going to do next time." Hongjoong pointed at me. "Your plan is shit; we can't do this anymore." Hongjoong stepped closer to Yunho, staring at him with sharp eyes.

Again. Like I was not even fucking there.

"What plan? Oh, my God, tell me something for fuck's sake!" I shouted at them.

They looked at me like they were surprised I was there too.

"It's none of your business, we will take care of it, don't worry." Yunho said, trying to hold my hand.

I scoffed and pushed him away. "Yeah, of course. Take me to my car." I went to Hongjoong's venom-green Mustang Shelby and sat in the backseat.

I was so fucking angry, I felt sick. The fact that they never tell me anything at all, made me feel again like I was just a fucking object, never truly acknowledged and cared for. I hated them. Yunho and Hongjoong.

As I got angrier, so did the familiar melody I heard playing in my head again…

≫The furious dragon sped through the clouds

Just to bring the storm to the people who deserve it≪

When we reached my car, as soon as Hongjoong stopped, I got out of his car and went to collect my things that were still scattered around the dirty ground, and went right to my car, sitting in it. I locked the car so Yunho couldn't sit inside too, because I knew, that from now on, they were going to turn into my fucking babysitters. I turned the engine on and quickly drove away, not wishing to see them.

The next morning when I woke up, I felt like a zombie. I hadn't slept well because I had nightmares about dark figures trying to push me down to the ground, just until I drowned in the sudden water that appeared out of nowhere, hands that seemed like shadows pulling me deep down to the bottom of the ocean.  

I went down to the kitchen so that I could eat something before I attended my classes as yesterday night I had no appetite to eat anything. When I was close to the kitchen’s door, I overheard Yunho and Hongjoong talking.

"We have to find them before they find us." I heard Yunho say, his voice still raspy as I assumed he got up just a few minutes ago.

"Yes, but we don't know where they are. They are not the foolish type to stay in plain sight, this whole thing seems to run way deeper than it initially seemed to." Hongjoong said in a low voice.

"I easily fooled them still." I said stepping inside the kitchen, and they looked at me surprised.

"You just had luck." Hongjoong said with fierce eyes, looking at me only for a second before he returned to the table.

"Are you kidding me?! If I would've panicked, I wouldn't be fucking here." I scoffed at him, going to the counter to grab a glass and pour some water for myself.

"I'm glad you were smart and tricked those motherfuckers, I'm proud of you." Yunho came to stand next to me, pecked my temple, and ruffled my hair.

I wanted to slap him, but he slipped away chuckling before I could, "You coming to Mist tonight? There's going to be a party." Yunho asked.

I shrugged, "I don't know, I'll speak to Yeosang to see if he’s going."

"Alright. I'll grab my stuff and then we can go, Hong." Yunho said leaving the kitchen.

I poured water into my glass and turned around, leaning against the counter.

I looked straight into Hongjoong's eyes, "Will you tell me who those men were? I want to help you; who knows, maybe I can recognize the ones that attacked me." I said, lifting the glass to my mouth to drink, but Hongjoong stood up and came right in front of me and grabbed my wrist, stopping me from drinking it.

"Don't try and bump your nose into things you shouldn’t, just be a good girl and stay low. You saw what happened, so just stay the fuck out of this." His eyes burned me like I was a match waiting to be lit up, burn me down until I was nothing.

"You make it sound like this is my fucking fault. Is it my fault that four men tried to fucking kill me? Were you there? No. So stop telling me to ‘stay low’, when none of this is my fault." I yelled at him furiously. I was sick of this shit already. His face remained impassive and cold, but I didn’t care anymore. I didn't want to see him, so I went back to my room to get ready for my classes having lost my appetite.

The furious melody did not want to leave my mind again, playing it over and over, until my mind found the right words to match with.

≫The world sees you as a fool

Like you are the fault in the stars≪

My classes went by quickly, thank God. I was with Yeosang the whole day and we decided we'd go to the party. We really needed some partying before our exams started. It was a good excuse to let go of everything. I needed to catch a break from my thoughts because if not, I might drown in them.

Yeosang helped me choose my outfit for the party, which consisted of a tight black skirt, paired with a white crop top, alongside black high boots reaching up to my knees. My hair fell onto my shoulders naturally, and I put on some make-up and accessories. Yeosang wore black ripped jeans and a green blouse with a low cut, his collarbones exposed. He put on a necklace with a padlock on it. I figured he wanted to find someone that would have the key to open it. Well, anyways, that’s what I told him, making him laugh, until he suddenly turned serious and said,

‘True’. I was sure he’d find someone tonight because, damn, he looked so beautiful I got nothing on him.

When we arrived at Mist it was already crowded. It took us longer to arrive because on our way, we decided to buy Whiskey and then we secretly drank it on the bus, on our way towards the club. We laughed loudly during the ride, conversing animatedly, drawing attention to us, pissing the people off around us. So, by the time we had arrived, we were already tipsy enough to start dancing, joining the crowd. We became one with the dancing bodies, becoming one of them. This was what I needed—To get away from my thoughts.

I felt the rhythm of the music slowly engulf my being, spreading from my head to my toes. The strangers’ bodies hugged around us as I held Yeosang's hand while we jumped up and down happily to the strong rhythm of the music. The music was loud, the colorful lights blinding us as we danced like there was no tomorrow. After a while, we decided to drink something as we had started sobering up, and that wasn't the plan at all. So, we went to the bar.

"Two gin tonics and tequila shots, please." I shouted to the bartender, trying to speak over the loud music. I knew him, he was from Yunho's friend circle, Jung Wooyoung.

"Isn't that too much for a pretty girl like you?" Wooyoung looked at me with his sharp foxy eyes. He had two piercings near his eyebrows, making him look even more intimidating. He wore a simple black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans. He had a few earrings and rings too. I couldn’t lie; he was handsome as hell.

"It's not, and I'm here too." Yeosang stepped in, next to me, staring at Wooyoung pointedly.

Wooyoung chuckled as he started preparing our drinks. I looked around, but I didn't see Yunho anywhere. Maybe he was making out with a girl, somewhere deep in the crowd, or was trying to piss Mingi off. Suddenly, my eyes landed on someone. Someone who was smiling, and that someone was Kim Hongjoong. I promise to God, it was a rare sight to see his smile, let alone hear his laugh. A girl was next to him and as he leaned against the wall, he whispered something in her ear while holding her waist. It was quite obvious what he was doing, shamelessly flirting with her. It was weird seeing Hongjoong like this, he never really did things like that. At least not when I was around.

He was wearing jeans that were two colored, these colors the opposite of his hair black and white hair. The top part of his body was hugged by a white T-shirt and a denim jacket, black boots his choice of footing for the night. He had a good sense of fashion, that was obvious.

The longer I kept staring at him, the more I realized I should do what he was doing. I should let go and just feel free for one night, if possible. I turned back to face Wooyoung as he had finished mixing our drinks. Yeosang and I downed the tequila shots right away, and then, he suddenly leaned closer to me.

"Can I leave you here for a little bit? I might have found the one holding the key to my padlock." Yeosang winked at me.

"Yes, of course, go." I smiled at him, pushing him away playfully. I watched as he disappeared between the dancing bodies when suddenly an idea came to my mind. I turned towards Wooyoung again.

"Do you have something—stronger? You know…" I looked at him while trailing off, hoping he knew what I meant.

He slightly frowned at me, a small smirk present on his lips, "You mean, pills?"

"Yeah." I said, trying to sound and look convincing.

"I do have some." He kept his sharp eyes on me while he wiped a wet glass dry, "Do you want some, pretty girl?"

"I do, actually." I looked at him, batting my eyelashes at him with a sweet smile on my lips.

I wasn’t really sure if he knew whose sister I was, and so, I wanted to take advantage of that.

He leaned over the counter, face close to mine, "If you dance with me, I'll give you some." He whispered so close to my lips that they almost touched mine.

I looked down at his lips, then up into his sharp eyes, “Don't you need to work?"

"My shift is over, pretty one." He said smiling charmingly, never taking his eyes off me.

"Okay." I agreed in the end, I could use some fun too.

He smirked and moved away from me to get the pill, and then walked around the counter. He stepped closer to me as he held something in his hand. Then he slowly poked his tongue out and placed the pill on it, his eyes never leaving mine. He raised one of his eyebrows as if he meant to say, 'Take it if you want it', while leaning towards me. My heart started racing. Fuck, he looked so hot like this, why wouldn't I take this one-time opportunity? I slowly leaned down, closer to his face, feeling his hot breathing puffing against my lips. But he didn’t wait until I was close enough to kiss him. Wooyoung eagerly closed the distance between our lips, crashing them together like there wasn't a pill slipping past our entangled tongues. I felt when the pill finally was passed onto my tongue, into my mouth, but we didn’t pull away straight away. His lips moved against mine, rushed, his tongue discovering my mouth as I moved mine along his. My arms slowly crawled around his neck as he pulled me closer to him by my waist. That is until I felt a strong hand grabbing my left shoulder, yanking me away from Wooyoung. He bit my bottom lip painfully due to the sudden motion. I could taste blood, mingled with Wooyoung’s saliva.

I turned to look stunned at the one who yanked me off, it being none other than Hongjoong. He looked so furious I was afraid he might kill someone. And I wasn't joking as he grabbed Wooyoung's shirt and pulled him close aggressively, his T-shirt threatening to tear apart at any second.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Wooyoung?" Hongjoong said in a low tone, he was shaking as he held Wooyoung.

"Dude, chill, what the fuck did I do?!" Wooyoung asked, looking confused.

"Did you give her pills? Are you insane?" Hongjoong pushed Wooyoung a bit, still not letting him go.

"Yes, because she asked. Now let go of me, you fucker." Wooyoung pushed Hongjoong's hands off himself. As Hongjoong released him, Wooyoung tried to straighten his T-shirt.

"She’s Yunho's sister; you should be grateful I was the one who found you two like this." Hongjoong said, looking at me for a second, making me feel little under his sharp gaze.

"So what? It should bother Yunho, not you. What?” Wooyoung asked, lifting his pierced eyebrow, “Are you fucking her behind his back?"

It truly was the worst idea to provoke Hongjoong, because as he heard the things Wooyoung uttered, he lost his morality. He didn’t care that the guy in front of him was one of his best friends. He punched Wooyoung with the force of a boxer, obviously, and it made Wooyoung fall to the ground immediately. Luckily, Hongjoong didn’t knock him out, I guess he still had that very little sanity in himself still. I gasped, however, hardly believing my eyes. Did Hongjoong just hit Wooyoung?!

"What the fuck, Hongjoong, are you out of your mind?!" I shouted at him, my body trembling from the sudden anger I felt.

He suddenly turned around, coming towards me. He grabbed my chin and lifted it up to look straight into my eyes. "Spit it out!" He commanded like I didn’t have a choice at all.

I poked out my tongue, just to show him that there wasn’t anything on it anymore, "Fuck off, you are not my brother Hongjoong! You are acting ridiculous." I said to him, pushing him away and turning my back to him. I wanted to go back and dance, lose myself to the music and the people around me.

But suddenly, Hongjoong pulled me back by my wrist. "I'm going to take you home, right now." He said with a face void of emotion, making me unable to read what he thought and felt, it was fucking annoying.

"I'm not going anywhere!" I shouted at him, trying to free my wrist from his hold.

He stepped even closer, holding my wrist harsher. I was sure his grasp was going to leave black and blue marks, "Yes, you are!"

But I couldn't really do anything as he dragged me out of the buzzing place, towards his venom-green Mustang, still squeezing my wrist painfully. He opened the passenger side door and pushed me inside. I didn’t recognize this Hongjoong, he was someone else, some kind of demon had taken over him, fighting for who would be in control. I was shaking as I felt terrified of the thought that he might hurt me; he could do anything to me if he wanted to. He probably saw me shake because he broke the silence as he started driving.

"I won't hurt you, Y/N. I would never." He said quietly, looking forward as his hands clenched around the steering wheel.

Still, I looked down at my wrists, where some faint red bruises started to appear. I just leaned my head against the window, to gaze out at our moving surroundings. Tears started appearing in my eyes as I suddenly felt so many emotions all at once that I couldn't handle. I started feeling dizzy, remembering the pill I took. It finally kicked in, making me feel numb, as if my soul left my body. This was the feeling I craved for, but not in this setting, I’d rather be anywhere but here. I cradled my wrist to my chest, 'Yes, you would never…'

The long-forgotten melody crept into my mind, trying to break through my thoughts, break my walls down, to save me from there. I let go as words broke through my walls.

≫The moon has two sides as well, a dark and a bright side

Who knows which one will light the dark at night≪

“Why did you kiss him?” Hongjoong suddenly broke the deafening silence.

I looked at him with a frown, “Because I wanted to?” Words barely came out of my mouth as everything felt blurry.  

He suddenly stepped on the gas pedal, speeding down the way home, “And do you want him?” His voice got lower as he clenched the steering wheel, his knuckles white.

“What are you talking about?” I was looking at his side profile, watching as he got angrier than he was before. He floored the gas pedal and we were flying down the silent streets. 

“Do. You. Want. Him?” He glanced my way, a dangerous glint in his eyes. I held onto the door as I was pushed back into my seat by the sudden force.

“For fuck’s sake Hongjoong, slow down! Are you crazy?!” I shouted frightened as he continued speeding.

“Answer my question!” His voice got even louder now, and he had to shout over the sound of the loud engine of his Mustang.

My heart was thumping like crazy, breathing heavily. I felt overwhelmed and overstimulated from the drug and the alcohol, and now the adrenaline too, the sudden speed making me feel like I was about to collapse any time.

“No!” I shouted, “I don’t want him! Just please slow down.” My voice cracked as I couldn’t hold back my tears anymore.

Then, as if his sanity finally returned, he slowed down, not daring to look at me. When he pulled up in front of our house, it was quiet. It was quiet, but at the same time, it was the loudest as my brain was full of loud noises.  I looked at his side profile, I could only see the black side of his hair, his dark side as he looked like he was still battling with his inner torment, biting his lower lip. I didn't dare move; I was scared if I did, he’d do something brash again.

He then slowly looked at me, "Are you shaking?" He looked panicked.

I couldn't control my body, there was too much happening at once. The alcohol mixed with the pill, I couldn't even think—of course, I was shaking.

I just looked down at my hands, as the world spun around me.

"Fuck, Y/N!" He took my hand, my wrist now bruised.

I looked up, just to see him looking worried. He seemed like he couldn't even believe he was the one to harm me. Yet now, he held my hand in the most delicate way possible, holding it as if it were a treasure.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N, please forgive me." He looked into my eyes with his own teary ones. He was finally allowing me to see the real him, he lowered his walls.

He raised my hand towards his lips and left little kisses on the bruises, whispering little apologies against my skin, as if he could heal it like that.

I watched him, still struggling to process what was happening, "Please, just take me to my room, I don't feel good." I closed my eyes and it was a mistake because I felt like I was on a roller-coaster. He snatched his head up quickly and opened his door when he saw my face. He ran around the car to open the passenger door.

"I got you, sugar." He whispered, leaning down to slowly help me out of the car and hold me up bridal style, holding me close to his chest so that he wouldn't drop me. I hid my face in his neck, his scent hugging me around. It was dark, yet still sweet like honey.

I felt us going up the stairs after Hongjoong had managed to unlock the front door and walk inside the dark house, finally reaching my room. He slowly, and very carefully placed me down on my soft bed. I closed my eyes as he pulled my boots down.

"Do you need water or something else?" He leaned down, holding himself up by his right hand placed next to my head, his two-colored hair falling into his eyes. His other hand caressed my cheekbones. I couldn't speak, so I just shook my head no.

Suddenly, we were staring at each other as if we were like two magnets, not even blinking.

"Kiss me." I suddenly whispered, surprising myself too, having suddenly found my voice.

"I can't, and you know that." Hongjoong whispered, leaning down closer to me, even though he had stated just the opposite of his actions.

"It's just a fucking kiss, don't be a scared little cat, Joong." I whispered against his lips, brushing my thumb over his soft lips, trying to tease him. He would break eventually. And I liked playing games.

I don't know what came over me, but I just needed to kiss him desperately. Even though he treated me like shit, and shouted at me, I was still lost in his eyes, which stared into mine with a flaring desire. He continued looking at me as if he was fighting with himself, trying not to make a bad decision.

"Please." I whispered, looking up at him pleadingly.

"Fuck." Then he suddenly crashed his lips against mine. He tasted sweet, like strawberry cake. The kiss wasn't hurried, it was slow as our lips moved together passionately. I moved my hands slowly up, to bury them in his hair, pulling him even closer to myself. He kissed me even more animatedly, possessive almost as if he were an addict and I was his drug. But the moment didn’t last for long, emotion dissipating just as fast as it came, as we suddenly heard the front door slamming shut. Hongjoong immediately jumped away, standing up to his full height.

"Shit." He ran his fingers through his messy hair. "This never happened." He looked at me with eyes ablaze as I continued lying in my bed.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows to look at him better, "Yeah, I just knew you couldn't resist me." I grinned at him.

Hongjoong scoffed, "You’re crazy." And then he left me there, in the dark, as I still felt his lips on mine.

 ≫Two sins met each other

Just to collapse together like magnets≪

As they were just outside my room, I heard Hongjoong telling Yunho that he drove me home because I wasn't feeling well, and then Yunho thanked him footsteps fading.

Not knowing that Hongjoong had kissed his little sister merely a few minutes ago.

-Previous Part- Next Part>

[ryuichirou]

i saw a twst piss shade thread on twitter and was sharing to acquaintances how Idia is so often hc to piss in a bottle, energy too strong, and so! i wanna ask who do you think would piss in their bottom's mouth or ass :D your ask box has been quietly uncursed those days by what's answered and i thought of that so i'm not sorry uwu

Anon, this is such a long overdue reply, but I never forgot about your ask. In fact, I was saving it for a rainy day (golden rainy god I hate myself), because the mere fact of having such an ask in our ask box was making me happy. I really appreciate the cursedness of it, and I especially appreciate you considering us an authority on such an important, topical and very complicated question.

(by the way, of course Idia would pee in a bottle – the guy is all about convenience!)

Let’s get into it lol

Ace – would. This absolutely isn’t his go-to, but I can picture him both having an accident and doing it on purpose just because of how much of an asshole he is sometimes. He probably wouldn’t expect it to be this hot, he was just being a dick, but…

Trey – wouldn’t, but he would think about it… but this is just one of a million cursed kinky things that Trey thinks about hypothetically. He is also the type to apologise a lot afterwards and clean his bottom’s mouth thoroughly lol

Cater – would also think about it, but probably wouldn’t dare to do it. He also might do a fake “oops, sorry” afterwards.

Ruggie – he absolutely would for money, but no one is really offering ;( “Weird stuff you’re into, but sure” type of thing.

Jack – he wouldn’t… intentionally. He is super against it, the idea would sound revolting to him. But he is also a young pup and can’t always control himself, so he might have a little “marking territory” moment.

Azul – wouldn’t, he probably would think it’s gross. If something like this happened accidentally, he would be more embarrassed than smug about it…

Floyd – would. Sometimes because he just wants to piss inside his lover’s mouth (especially if Riddle (or Idia…)’s been annoying him), sometimes he just feels so aroused that he can’t help himself, and sometimes he just feels like peeing but doesn’t feel like moving. He likes doing it a lot.

Jade – absolutely would. But only if the situation is perfect for it because this isn’t something that he can overuse, so to speak. He knows that his potential partners wouldn’t expect him to do something like this, so he has to catch the most perfect moment of bliss and pleasure to shock his bottom with his special hot liquid lol

Kalim – he would, I’m sorry Jamil. He would do it on accident the first time, and it would be in the butt, but after that he would kind of get into it… he doesn’t do it all the time of course, and he is a little embarrassed to bring it up, but all this shyness goes away whenever he’s having sex.

Rook – would, but isn’t allowed :( Doesn’t mean that he absolutely never does it, mind you. But there is a very strict policy in Vil’s bedroom that he does break from time to time, to be completely fair. And with the other boys too, but not always – he is weirdly strategic about how he uses his urine. 🤔

Ortho – he would adjust his special gear just to try it out, and if he gets a fun reaction out of it, he’ll do it again! But he also was partially interested if niisan would be able to tell that the liquid he squirted inside of his butt is different by consistency and temperature… it’s not real pee, so it shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Lilia – would, he did it with a lot of boys back in the day, and he still does it now; he also kind of taught Silver that this is something that could happen in case of an emergency if you can’t leave your pee smell in the woods for some reason.

Sebek – would, and this is 90% because of what Lilia has taught Silver. Sebek knows that this is complete bs, but he got so flustered and shocked when Silver got down and opened his mouth, that he couldn’t process it or say anything in protest. 

[anincompletelist]

twenty questions for fic writers

thanks to @cricketnationrise @happiness-of-the-pursuit @kiwiana-writes

@ninzied @captainjunglegym for the tags friends! it's been a while since I've last done one of these so I figured I would participate again! xx

+

how many works do you have on ao3?

56! (technically 60 though… 😏🤫)

what's your total ao3 word count?

1,248,687

what fandoms do you write for?

RWRB (currently) [ 1D and teen wolf (past) ]

top five fics by kudos:

but if you could see us from a distance you'd know I've always been so close to you - the og sex curse one shot

Something Borrowed, Something Blue - enemies to lovers at june's wedding

I'll bet it all on me and you, I'll bet it all you're bulletproof - coworkers trivia fluff

praying our bridges don't make waves - soulmates with a twist

kiss me like you've got nowhere to be - roommates to lovers fluff

do you respond to comments?

nowhere near as much as I'd like to! my capacity for social interaction lately has been... lacking, to the say the least ksjhdkshd BUT I SEE AND READ THEM ALL AND I HOLD THEM SO CLOSE <3333

what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ooh I can't usually do angsty endings so I'm carving my own loophole here -- the first two fics in the sex curse series are definitely my most angsty endings before they work their shit out in the third skjdhsjkhd

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of mine do, but I'd say that overall the most fluffy ones are in the firstprince first kisses series!

do you get hate on fics?

I most definitely did in my old fandom but people have been generally very kind and supportive to me here so far! :')

do you write smut?

yes!

craziest crossover:

my george x firstprince hurt/comfort is very special to me <3

(but I also have a Jeff from bottoms x Shane from minx au in the docs so ksjhdhfjh that too)

have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

have you ever had a fic translated?

not in this fandom! but I have had some lovely folks record some podfics of my works! (here and here!)

have you ever co-written a fic before?

not for rwrb! (yet???? ksjhdkjhfkjh)

all time favorite ship?

I gotta go with fp! they got me like that niall horan ear crawling gif fr I'll never be the same

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh gosh I'm not sure. I HOPE I finish them all but I also have an obscene amount so ksjhdksjdhf not crossing anything off yet!

what are your writing strengths?

I think dialogue? it's always the part of my fics that I write first, and then I build the rest of the story around it. I hope it's a solid foundation!

what are your writing weaknesses?

there's a fine line between explaining and over-explaining and I think sometimes I fall into the second category skjdhkjhf. I love some introspection as much as the next guy but I'm working on only including details that feel most pertinent to the story.

thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I love it! I think it can be so special and can be another way to connect readers with the characters and the story. I took Spanish all four years of high school so I'm a little rusty now, and studied French for a while a few years ago and just picked it back up recently! my translations aren't always perfect but luckily I've had some very kind people to check or point these things out for me :)

first fandom you wrote in?

..... hollywood heights sjkhdjkhgdfh

favorite fic you've written?

oh no. I am so bad at perceiving myself ksjhdjkdjfhg. I think each of my fics definitely served a purpose for me while writing them, but lately I've found myself returning to these three (I'm breaking the rules yes sorry):

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

there were pages turned with the bridges burned (everything you lose is a step you take) - diabetic!Alex

treading water in the deep, just waiting for the tides to meet -(soulmates)

but also there's a wip I'm working now which..... might take first place when I post skjdhkjsdh WE'LL SEE!

+

PLEASE PLEASE CONSIDER THIS OPEN TAG IF YOU'D LIKE TO DO IT! with all of the tumblr nonsense and how behind I've been on here lately I'm all over the place with tags at the moment.

other tags (no pressure!): @firenati0n @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @thedramasummer

@heysweetheart-writes @stellarm @suseagull04 @bigassbowlingballhead

@eusuntgratie @magicandarchery @read-and-write- @iboatedhere

@anchoredarchangel @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @alasse9 @itsmaybitheway

@getmehighonmagic @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse

xx

[mintypsii]

yk adorable group hug and luffy moment aside, did zoro just kick the ground . after he was hugged . is this show even real

sorry but the way nami went 🤨🏳️‍🌈 TWICE

[uncanny-tranny]

Your fears that you don't have a body that will transition "well" are, sure, understandable, but there isn't truly such thing as a body that's unworthy of transition. Perhaps your changing body won't suit everybody's taste, but would you rather live for yourself or for the whims of random people who don't care about your happiness as long as they're attracted to what they see?

Transition is for anybody who wants it. It's okay to be fearful. It's okay to be uncertain. But it isn't the end of the world. You are in control, and if you choose to transition to any capacity, it should be at your behest. You and your body are worthy of transition. I hope you are able to seize transition and do what you truly want for yourself.

[iknowwhereyousleepatnight]

my tummy hurts but i'm being really brave about it (complaining on tumblr dot com)

[lesbianpegbar]

it makes me so viscerally angry that rule of rose is like $800-1000 nothing should ever cost that much especially not something that used to cost like $15-20

[sysig]

Nobody can tell me what to do! Even me! (Patreon)

[bookwyrminspiration]

You really remind me of a girl I know called Isabella. You both talk a lot, not in a negative way though. In a way where you can talk for like 2 hours straight and I’ll still somehow be interested

This is so sweet of you thank you so much, like genuinely I'm unsure how to respond because I really appreciate this <33

I'm glad that my rambles are interesting! Because I do oh so love to keep going on and on about everything forever. I could probably find a bunch to say about basically everything. The natural state of the world is just me talking infinitely. Half of the time what I'm talking about is probably twilight if I'm being honest. I read the series and then my fate was sealed, and I was stuck, unable to escape from it. Kind of like vampirism

fun fact! my middle name at birth was Isabel, so while it's not quite Isabella when you said that I was like hey! kinda the same! same hat situation over here. though I don't wear hats because the feeling is strange, we can emotionally be wearing the same hat

that aside, I will continue to talk a lot! always got more to say about things and I am very very introverted irl so tumblr gets the brunt of my musings and just the random things that happen to me on a daily basis, I just gotta share!

seriously thank you for this, I absolutely love this comparison and compliment <33

[talkorsomething]

Too [insert adjective here] for guard ...................

Well, it's only half related.

We "hit a pothole", "had a slipup", whatever you want to call it — sunday. Aka: for the sake of my sanity we are not labeling it a relapse but good god does it feel as though I have invited the demons back in.

I know why, but I don't really know why. Because, I mean... I never have, to begin with. So: when I decided i was doing it sunday, i accepted it. "Let it happen", as someone would probably say to me. It's not...

I've been thinking about it for a while now. It's like anything - it comes and goes, a few times a year, and no matter what, I always ignore it.

Except, maybe there's something I'm not paying attention to? Or, ignoring, is the better word for it?

Of course it would be the one thing I have happening in my life.

November, I was burnt out for unrelated reasons. It was a lot to take in. That made sense. Now? ... why now?

There's not really any pressure on me. Yes, I have to do things, yes, it will be noticed if they're bad, but ...... it's not important. We don't spend time on it. I'm coming back next year, but it might be at the cost of ... all of this. I think it's progress. I haven't touched my guitar in any serious capacity in over a year. I think it's progress.

I don't take compliments well. I can't tell if that's why I don't get them, but I'm not being corrected much either. Only when I drift too far from what the work is supposed to be, only after weeks of it going, I can only assume, unnoticed. I keep getting stuck.

...push it back down.

Telling me I'm doing good isn't telling me what I know I have to be getting wrong. I could take it, at the cost of... all of this. I'm anticipating, and I know it can come. This is not where I was when I started.

It's been said, I haven't been told, that not starting it means you're more of a burden, by making the other person have to do it first. I know that. I do. And still it doesn't help. I'm not drowning. It wasn't an accident, but it wasn't planned, either. I don't know you.

I don't know you.

I'm not a good person. I'm not a nice person. Every week I tell myself this is really it, and every week I come back, and ... what? Forget I ever said anything? Forget we're not friends?

Well, we're not, huh? Nobody is, with me. What you see I swear you misunderstand. You don't ask. If you do, well, I can't answer. We're at an impasse.

It's not even my fault we didn't make it. I shouldn't feel like this over nothing. I don't do anything. You will, correctly, not let me do anything, because potential doesn't matter if you can't back it up. If you won't back it up. I let things happen to me.

I don't even feel better. And, actually, ironically, i think i know what would let me feel better. If I can't be upset with anyone else, at least I can be with myself.

... but, well, not even that. Your heart in my hands, but I mean it diegetically. And metaphorically. I hate putting myself out there, I hate having to actually perform, and yet every time, no matter what, I do it. I'm fine. I only cared at the start, and even then not very.

I don't feel anything. Not a lot, anyways. I don't let it happen. I can't. I don't know what it'll mean if I start being honest with myself.

...

I've pulled myself out of this before. A few times, now. Different circumstances, but I've done it all the same. Seasonal depression notwithstanding.

I'm only here because I did things I was scared to. And still, I'm the same. No progress made. The only way out is to do it again but I feel like I can't. I can't.

Will someone just let me say that?

Will someone just fucking help for once?