#EXORCISE MY MIND (musings.)

[yummycastiel]

''she looks like the real thing''- satoru gojo

pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!reader, sorcerer!reader

synopsis: ‘’Dude why did that siren take on my image to try and seduce you, is there something you wanna tell me’’

content/warnings: yearning, mutual pining, flirting, slow burn, friends to lovers, canon typical violence, mentions of blood, Japanese folklore, feelings realization, confessions

word count: ~6.3k

~ ~ ~

You and Satoru didn’t often take on missions together, but when you did, it was nothing short of a good time. Despite the serious nature of the missions that Satoru took on, he was just…goofy. Goofy in a way that rubbed off on you, made you giggle quietly beside him as he made some dumb joke while gathering intel, or exchanged cunning quips as you exorcised whatever cursed spirit was unlucky enough to cross the both of you. Others asked if the two of you even took things seriously at all, which you did, really, but you couldn't help it. Satoru coaxed out a side of you that brought you genuine enjoyment for life, for living, which was a stark contrast to the usual sombre work of being a Jujutsu sorcerer. 

So when Satoru asked you to tag along on some new mission he was assigned, you accepted without hesitation. 

You slipped into the sleek black car that Jujutsu High had sent, joining Satoru in the backseat as you greeted him with a friendly smile. His usual self-assured smirk was plastered on his face as he lounged in the seat, one long leg crossed over the other with effortless grace. 

‘’You gonna fill me in on the details of the mission?’’ You asked him, settling into the backseat and giving him your usual smile. Satoru crossed his arms, tilting his head as if to eye you, though you couldn’t tell because of his blindfold, however you could feel the heat of his gaze on you. 

‘’Some unknown cursed energy residuals were reported on the outskirts of Tokyo, on the coast. Looks like we’re making a trip to the beach.’’ You smiled, pleased. 

‘’The beach, huh?’’ You mused, already picturing the cute souvenirs you could buy with Satoru to bring back to your students. Satoru took out his phone, scrolling on his screen quickly as he no doubt was reminding himself of the mission info as well. You two were as prepared as ever. 

‘’Yep! Looks like there’s been a couple disappearances in the past month. Huh…all men, last seen at this beach, never seen again…’’ Satoru said, fiddling with his black blindfold as he looked down at the screen, ‘’Oh? Potential special grade mission, huh? Looks like we might actually have a challenge on our hands!’’ He gave you an excited grin and your heart fluttered, though you kept a straight face as you tilted your head at him. 

‘’Try not to be too excited,’’ You chided lightly, ‘’There are people missing you know?’’ 

‘’Tch, can’t blame me for being a little eager after such a long streak of boring missions.’’ Satoru pouted, crossing his arms, ‘’Now, once we get there, you can do some recon, yeah?’’ 

~ 

And recon you did. Whenever you did missions with Satoru, you were often left to do the talking to civilians, asking them questions and prying for information, while Satoru lounged about waiting for you. You didn’t mind too much, honestly things went much more smoothly when it was you doing all the talking, and Satoru knew this. 

The little town you and Satoru found yourselves in would've been charming, though a cloud of despair and silence cloaked its every road and alleyway. No kids to be found playing outside, no laundry being hung, just salty-wind buffeting at the rocky shore. You had to knock on doors to get some answers from the townspeople, managing to have a couple productive conversations, but all the while it was hard to ignore the heavy, palpable tension in the air, like everyone in the area was holding their breath and waiting for something terrible to happen.  

You made your way back to Satoru, who was leaning against a broken down, white fence. He perked up seeing you, straightening up as you approached. 

‘’So? Did you find anything?’’ He asked, leaning closer to you. 

‘’Yeah actually…’’ You began, scratching your head as you inwardly sorted through the fresh information in your mind, ‘’A couple townspeople told me about something that happened a month ago. Apparently a fisherman caught something in his net, something strange…not just any fish. Have you ever heard of a ningyo?’’ Satoru cocked his head, pale pink lips pursing as he regarded you. 

‘’I’ve heard the name before, though I’ll be honest my knowledge on Japanese folklore isn’t so great.’’ He replied, ‘’Buuut, I’m guessing you’ll be giving me a lecture all about it right now?’’ You shot Satoru a look as he chuckled, patting your head before shoving it back in his pocket. You rolled your eyes, taking his arm and pulling him beside you as you walked down the rocky pathway. 

‘’You’re annoying,’’ You muttered at him, not unkindly, before continuing, ‘’Ningyo comes from Japanese folklore, the name meaning ‘human fish’. According to legend, and to the townspeople here, they’ve been around since the Asuka period, and if one eats their flesh, they’re blessed with unnaturally long life.’’ 

‘’Okay, soooo, mermaids then?’’ Satoru chimed in as the two of you wandered by the shore, his long legs slowing their pace so you could keep up with him, ‘’You think the cursed spirit we’re looking for is a mermaid?’’

‘’Not exactly,’’ You huffed, ‘’Ningyo are far from the typical, beautiful sirens that lure men to their deaths, they’re described as more fish-like than human, with the face of a monkey according to some stories. Apparently, if they are caught, it’s seen as an omen of calamity and misfortune.’’ Satoru peered down at you, lifting his blindfold up off one eye as if to get a good look at you, though you knew he already could.

‘’I love it when you get all nerdy on me.’’ He crooned, voice silky and smooth like honey, and the blood rushed to your face in the span of a second. You let out an absurd little laugh, dismissing Satoru’s casual flirtation. You’d known him long enough to know he wasn't being serious. He was never serious, that was both the problem and the solution to every pathetic, lovesick look you’d given him since you were sixteen. 

‘’Anyway,’’ You moved on, turning your attention back to the mission at hand. You were a pro at repressing your feelings, you could get an award for it. The casual tone of nonchalance? Nailed it. ‘’There’s all sorts of different kinds of lore, and even then there isn't a lot of information on them online, but I’m willing to bet that whatever that fisherman caught in his net last month has something to do with the cursed energy residuals you told me about and the disappearances. It’s too much of a coincidence not to be.’’ 

Satoru hummed, rubbing his chin as he straightened up to his full height. ‘’You’re probably right.’’ He told you, ‘’What happened to the fisherman who claims he caught this thing?’’ 

‘’We’re going to go pay him a visit now, actually.’’ I divulged, pulling Satoru along the road as we neared our destination, who complied without a word, only giving you a lazy grin. ‘’Oh, and Satoru? Let me do the talking.’’ 

~

The fisherman stood at his doorway, nervous eyes flickering back and forth between you and Satoru as though he were expecting something to jump out from behind and attack him. His nervous air wafted off of him in waves, his gaunt expression making your skin crawl. 

‘’It’s like I said before,’’ The fisherman said in a low, raspy tone, ‘’I didn’t really get a good look at that…that thing, when I caught it in my net. I just saw…a huge tail, a flash of teeth, and these terrible, terrible eyes, staring at me, empty and-’’ The man shivered, eyes screwing shut for a moment as he recalled the event. ‘’I threw it back overboard. I knew what it was. The ningyo.’’ 

‘’Can you tell us a bit more about the creature? What you know about it?’’ You asked, keeping your voice calm and level as you kept your gaze on the man. The man shot you a nervous look, hands wringing. 

‘’My family’s been in this town for a long time. My grandfather told me about the ningyo. Said they bring bad luck. Bad, bad luck. Not worth it to catch them, eat them, so any fisherman worth a damn steers clear whenever they hear their song.’’ 

‘’Song?’’ You asked, curious to know more. You felt Satoru shift on his feet behind you, leaning forward a little as well. The fisherman nodded 

‘’Their voice sounds like a flute, I’ve heard it.’’ He explained in a shaky, unsteady voice, ‘’It’s a nice song at first. Pa always told me they try to lure men in with their song, even change shape too since their original form is too ugly to do the job.’’ 

‘’Is there anything else you know?’’ Satoru asked, voice low and serious, which made you glance over at him. His blindfold was still covering his eyes, and he was leaning against the doorframe as usual, but his expression was one of concern. The fisherman paused, taking a guttural breath as his eyes flashed with something close to fear. He nodded slowly. 

‘’The song…I heard it before I caught it. I thought it sounded like…my girlfriend from when I was young.’’ The fisherman’s cheeks flushed as he recounted the details, gaze turning to the floor. Satoru and you shared a glance, his covered gaze meeting yours but you didn't need to see his eyes to understand what he was thinking.

‘’Girlfriend, huh?’’ You muttered, starting to connect the dots in your head. 

~

‘’You know, for a first, possibly special grade cursed spirit, this ningyo is kind of predictable.’’ Satoru drawled, lying down across the bench of the moderately-sized motorboat the two of you had rented. You sighed as you steered, the salty wind buffeting at your hair as the wild ocean spray lapped at the edge of the boat. This would be a nice outing if you weren’t tracking down a high-level curse, but you were too busy scanning the water, keeping a careful eye out for anything suspicious. Even though you knew Satoru could sense anything coming with those powerful eyes of his, you couldn’t help but stay alert. 

‘’I don’t think curses are particularly preoccupied with being original, Satoru.’’ You joked lightly, your eyes falling on his relaxed form. His elbows were up as he lay his head in his hands, long leg slung over the other. His white-hair was waving to and fro in the sharp breeze, flickering like a white flame in the setting sun. You wiped your sweaty palm on your thigh as you kept your gaze forward and not on Satoru’s handsome profile. Satoru chuckled, low and crooning. 

‘’Maybe not, but come on, mermaids singing to lure men to their deaths? Too cliche.’’ Satoru sighed with a flippant wave of his hand. You shook your head. 

‘’It can’t be as simple as that.’’ You said, ‘’The legend of the ningyo is well-known here, people are superstitious. Those men that disappeared, they’d know well not to follow some song into this ocean. This curse has more up its sleeve than a pretty imitation of a song.’’ The boat rocked to the side, lifted by a powerful wave that made you clutch at the side of the vessel. Satoru sat up gracefully, barely taking notice of the imbalance of the rocking boat. You felt your stomach squeeze, an unfamiliar sick sensation of nausea gripping you as your body swayed. Satoru had suggested the boat, since this was a water-bound curse and you’d have more luck hunting it down on the open ocean, and for a moment you wished the damn cursed-spirit could be normal and just be on land like the rest of them. 

‘’You’re right, as always,’’ He admitted easily, leaning closer to you so he could be heard over the crashing of the water around you both, ‘’Five men, all gone, last seen on their boats, so they were fishermen. They knew better. Whatever technique this ningyo has, it’s powerful and advanced enough to trick seasoned pros into its clutches. No doubt those men are dead already.’’ 

‘’Shape-shifter probably,’’ You hummed, biting your lip as you brainstormed every possible ability the curse could have, ‘’Or able to imitate human speech, taking on the voice of people’s loved ones?’’ Satoru rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and nodded. Another wave crashed against the side of the boat, throwing you off-course for a moment and you could almost feel your face turn green. You coughed, chest constricting as you looked out over the choppy waters of the cold ocean. A warm hand suddenly closed over your own that was gripping on tight to the tiller of the motor, and you turned back to see Satoru leaning over to where you sat at the stern of the boat. 

‘’Let me steer, hm?’’ He said gently, his breath fanning over your cheek as he urged you to take his spot. The warmth from his body rolled off him as he brushed against you, and all you could do was nod as you sat opposite him, heart beating fast. Your hand still burned from where he touched you. 

‘’Should’ve brought those damn life jackets.’’ You muttered, fingers curling around the edge of the bench as the boat kept speeding forward, now with an ever-confident Satoru steering it. Satoru chuckled, running his hand through his wind-swept hair. 

‘’Nah, you don’t need one with me around.’’ He said calmly, ‘’If you fall in, I’ll save you.’’ Your eyes flickered over to Satoru, taken aback by the absence of his familiar boyish and flirty tone. Instead, he gazed at you calmly, no hint of any teasing on his face. Your stomach went from feeling nauseous to doing somersaults, heart jumping into your throat and you were too tongue-tied to reply. You just laughed it off, looking away from the white-haired sorcerer in a weak attempt to hide the heat that was rising in your cheeks. You had such a soft spot for Satoru, you couldn't even bring yourself to get annoyed with him as you probably should for toying with your emotions like this. The teasing you could handle, but this? This genuine tone he took with you sometimes when he said something almost romantic? If you didn't know any better, you might let yourself feel a little bit of hope. But you knew better. You did. 

‘’Just shut up and steer the damn boat.’’ You snorted dismissively, crossing your arms and trying to relax as Satoru pouted playfully. He drove the boat for an hour, going in circles, then venturing further out to sea, with still no sign of any ningyo. 

Just as you were about to call it a night, a high-pitched, flute-like sound rang out across the water, now calm as the day descended into night. You shot a look at Satoru who nodded, slowing the boat to a puttering crawl. The song, a haunting call from something you couldn't see, broke the silence again as your boat finally came to a stop. Besides the sound of the water, you could hear a pin drop with how quiet you and Satoru were. You both tensed in your spots, eyes scanning the surrounding area for any sign of something, anything. Satoru turned suddenly, sharply moving his head to his left and you knew that he could sense the curse. 

‘’It’s close.’’ Was all he said, and without having to say anything to you, you brought down a veil.

‘’Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.’’ You chanted the words softly, and a curtain of darkness oozed down from the sky, surrounding you and Satoru, aiming to trap the cursed spirit within so it couldn't swim away. You unsheathed your weapon, body tense, ears catching the sound of rippling water. You turned to where Satoru was standing just in time to see a flash of a dark fin sliding through the waves, circling closer, closer, closer. Its song grew louder, shrill this time, making your ears ring and you had to cover them, dropping your weapon in an effort to block out the painful noise. Satoru still didn't move, seemingly unaffected by the sound, instead his lips parted as though he was confused, his brow furrowing as he listened. Was he hearing something else? Something you weren't? 

‘’Sato-’’ Your words were suddenly interrupted by a scream, the boat rocking violently as the ningyo flew onto the boat. It had a long, golden-scaled fish-tail, huge, lashing from side to side and slamming into the sides of the boat. Fanged, primate-like face licking its chops, distinct monkey snout sneering as it screamed again. It had the torso of a human, matted and wet fur however led to scaly black limbs that were armed with terrible claws that crushed the metal of the boat easily as it hung on tight. 

The force of it landing in front of you both made you sway, and you leapt to the side, hanging on for dear life so you wouldn't fall into the frigid waters. You grabbed at your weapon, hand wrapping around it so tight your knuckles went white. Satoru moved before you did, suddenly appearing behind the cursed spirit and he landed a powerful kick to its huge head, sending it crashing to the floor of the boat. The ningyo’s tail whipped around, narrowly missing Satoru but he dodged with ease, weaving in and out of its reach before it could make contact. You found your footing, taking the opportunity to leap at it, brandishing your weapon as you stabbed down at the cursed spirits head. The ningyo jerked up, body violently convulsing as its arms blocked your attack. It continued its terrible, haunting song all the while, and you clenched your jaw. You couldn't cover your ears, not now. 

Satoru and you cornered the cursed spirit, landing blow after blow, engaged in a calculated dance, the two of you working as a perfect pair, a perfect team, reading each other’s movements, predicting the next without even having to look at each other. The ningyo snarled and hissed, using its taloned arms to spin around helplessly, fish tail lashing from side to side as you backed it into a corner. You sliced and stabbed, managing to land a blow just as the curse lashed out at you, sending you crashing into the ground. Blinding pain seared through your vision, the iron taste of blood flooding into your mouth as you struggled to your feet. 

‘’Vile woman.’’ The cursed spirit spat at you, lips curling to reveal drooling fangs as it regained composure. Gritting your teeth, you knew the curse would single you out, try to take you out first to get you out of the way to deal with the biggest threat in the area, Satoru. You forced yourself to your feet, grabbing your weapon once more. Shooting Satoru a look as he launched himself at the ningyo again without missing a beat, and you leaped in the air, taking a risk as you sailed over the cursed spirit’s head, your blade swooshing down and attempting to slice through its furry shoulder. Satoru raised his hand, fingers moving to sign his cursed technique reversal that you knew very well, but in that moment, the ningyo moved faster. It whipped around, moving impossibly fast, leaping at you and trapping you in the sharp hold of its claws. 

You screamed as it pinned you to the ground, talons digging painfully into your ribs, drawing blood yet you didn’t feel it due to the adrenaline rushing and thrumming in your veins. The tangy scent of your blood filled your nostrils as you struggled, watching as the open maw of the curse closed in on your face, the hot stench of its breath fanning over your cheek. Instead of ripping out your throat, its body convulsed, spitting out a white, sticky substance that covered your mouth, choking you. 

‘’No-!’’ You heard Satoru’s voice from somewhere, you didn't know where, your ears were filled with the sickening groan of the ningyo as it kept its mouth wide. Whatever it was regurgitating was solidifying into a spiderweb-like trap, curling around your neck, down your torso and legs, keeping you immobile. Your heart was racing, panic settling into your gut and threatening to drown you as you struggled to free yourself in vain. Move, move, dammit! 

All you could do was breathe through your nose, trying to keep calm as the heavy weight of ningyo eased off you, and it turned to focus on Satoru. The white-haired sorcerer had his hand out, but he wasn't moving, too afraid to use his technique with you in harm’s way. His eyes were still covered, but his mouth was twisted into a grimace as he tensed, chest rising and falling as though he too was fighting to stay calm. You’d never seen Satoru break composure, not once, and the absence of his cool exterior made your blood run cold. The curse dragged itself so it was turned to face Satoru, sneering wickedly. It’s terrible mouth moved, but you couldn't make out what it said, but in an instant, the boat you found yourself in disappeared, falling into darkness as the environment changed. 

You were no longer where you had been moments before, now surrounded by dark, stormy skies, flashes of lightning illuminating a vast expanse of still water that reached the horizon. The air was heavy with the smell of salt and blood, not a whisper of wind to be felt. A shiver ran down your back in your immobilized state. You knew what this was. The ningyo’s domain. You tried to roll over, eyes flying over to watch Satoru. He could release his own domain, infinite void, in an instant, you knew this. No one could engage in a battle of domains against him and win, so why was he…? 

Satoru stood at his full height, frozen, mouth parted as though in a trance. He didn't raise a hand, didn't even twitch as his gaze was fixed ahead of him. Your eyes slowly fell to the cursed spirit, cold dread seeping through your body and into your bones as your stare was met with…you. 

It was you, standing there, where the ningyo had been. But it wasn’t really you. It had your face, your hair, your same mouth, but it was cloaked in glowing white robes, billowing out behind it. Its feet were bare, skin milky white, and the expression on its face was uncanny, just not quite right. You tried to scream, it wasn't you, it was the siren, the ningyo had changed into you, but the sticky-white gag only allowed for a muffled sound of panic to escape you. You thrashed, but Satoru didn’t even notice as he took a shaky step back, still fixed on the figure of you, no, the curse, which took a step towards him. 

‘’Satoru.’’ The siren’s voice rang out, cold and sweet, and you were shocked at how closely it resembled your own voice. ‘’Oh, Satoru…’’ The terrible crooning voice dripped with seduction as the ningyo tilted its head, your head rather, in the exact same way you did. Satoru flinched, whispering your name loud enough for you to hear. The siren version of you grinned, lips twisting with terrible beauty as it swayed towards Satoru.

‘’Come here Satoru,’’ The siren crooned in your voice, holding its arms out, ‘’No need to hide anymore.’’ Satoru’s hand slowly lifted to his black blindfold, pulling it down inch by inch to reveal glassy, crystal-blue eyes, but instead of looking at you, he gazed forward, mesmerised by the vision of you standing in front of him. He looked caught in a trance, lips parting in awe as he gazed at siren-you. Your own heart caught in your throat as you saw the look on his face, one of shock, something else, akin to hunger, flashing in his eyes that made your stomach twist. What was happening to him? 

The siren stopped, lifting an arm, finger beckoning Satoru to come closer. ‘’You bear such a heavy load Satoru,’’ it murmured with your soft voice, ‘’The strongest sorcerer of your age, so much duty, so much responsibility. You don’t need to be alone anymore darling, I’m here.’’ You saw Satoru’s shoulders slump as he took another step forward, getting closer, pulled by an invisible force towards the siren, his eyes never leaving its form. Despair crawled up your spine, threatening to drown you as you watched him get closer, closer, until he was only a foot away. You needed to do something, but your body was trapped, there was no way of getting free. The gag in your mouth made you think, if you could only call out to Satoru, maybe you could snap him out of this trance, though you weren’t sure what would happen since you were in the ningyo’s domain. 

‘’We can be together Satoru. I know you want that, don’t you? You want to be with me?’’ Satoru swallowed thickly as the siren spoke, your voice carrying out throughout the domain, ‘’I’ll never leave you. I’ll never abandon or betray you. We can get away from all this, that is what you truly want, I can see it.’’ Satoru mumbled something you couldn't hear, standing right in front of the siren now, looking down, head tilting, hands loosening. The siren raised an arm, running a single finger across his jaw, lips curling as your eyes, no, its eyes glittered in the dim light. You chewed frantically at the gag, trying to swallow, choke it down as you watched, terrified. 

‘’Just one kiss. One kiss and we can be together.’’ Siren-you cooed, brushing its fingers through Satoru’s white hair. Satoru didn't hesitate as he leaned down, moving slowly, allowing the ningyo to wrap its arms around him, tugging him closer. Your heart was pounding as you kept working to get rid of the cover over your mouth, bile rising in your mouth as you were able to choke down some of it. The siren raised a hand behind Satoru’s back, a human hand replaced by familiar claws that flashed, its true form materializing, and the siren version of you grinned wickedly, your eyes suddenly glowing scarlet. It raised its claw as it pulled Satoru against it, the sorcerer unaware as he leaned in too. 

‘’Toru, snap out of it!’’ Your voice, your real voice rang out in the silence, the scream ripped from your throat as you finally removed the gag over your mouth. You rolled, thrashing as you tried to sit up. ‘’That’s not me!’’ Satoru stumbled back, the spell broken as he whipped around, his blue eyes finding you. Panicked, he shoved the ningyo away, desperate to get away, and the curse snarled. Your face, which it wore, twisted, fangs protruding from your lips as you swiped at Satoru, but missed. It only took a moment for Satoru to come to his senses, shaking the fog from his head as he dodged another clawed swipe from the curse, whose form was already beginning to change back into its previous one. You watched as your body that it wore grew a tail, arms ripping into scaly ones, a snout stretching from the human nose.

Satoru spun, making a dash towards you and he hauled you over his shoulder. The wind was knocked from your lungs at how fast he was, barely catching him chant the words: ‘’Domain expansion; infinite void.’’ 

Suddenly the ground fell from underneath you, the sky and all the space around you turning into a black void as Satoru’s domain overtook the cursed spirits in less than a second. Beams of purple light sped past you as the domain materialized, and you felt Satoru’s arm around your waist tighten, holding you carefully. You yelped as Satoru moved, and you couldn’t see from where you hung over his back, but you heard what he was doing. A sickening tearing sound rang through your ears, and you felt Satoru’s body jerk backwards with violent force. You blinked, and suddenly you were back on the boat you had begun your journey on, the ocean calm, stars visible in the night sky. 

All you could hear was the sound of the waves crashing against the side of the boat, and you let out a huff as Satoru placed you down onto the floor gently, crouching next to you as he quickly helped you remove the web-like substance that kept your body trapped. His long fingers gently ripped it off, freeing your legs, your arms, and his hands went to cup your cheeks. His eyes were still uncovered, roving over your expression with concern. 

‘’Are you alright?’’ He asked hoarsely, his white hair falling into his eyes as he studied you. Satoru’s face was pale and he looked shaken. You felt the way he looked, still trying to process everything that had just happened. You nodded, sitting up and leaning against the edge of the boat as you tried to catch your breath. 

‘’I’ll be fine…’’ You murmured, looking down at your side where the curse had stuck its claws into you. The bleeding had stopped, so nothing serious.  ‘’The cursed spirit…?’’ 

‘’Exorcised.’’ Satoru told you, sitting back as he caught his breath too. The silence between you was loud, and you felt like you should say something. 

‘’Thanks for saving me.’’ You said, offering Satoru a shaky smile. Satoru met your eyes, but they quickly flicked away.

‘’You saved me, actually.’’ Was all he said, voice low, almost embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous tic you knew well with all these years of knowing him. Silence fell again, and the questions plaguing your mind made your stomach churn. You didn’t know how to breach the subject. Hey Satoru, why did that siren take on my image and try to seduce you? There wasn't exactly a rulebook on how to ask one of your closest friends such a question, none of your years of overthinking and worrying could have prepared you for this situation, so you kept your mouth shut, feeling too awkward to even ask about the cursed spirit again. 

Apparently for Satoru, he did not want to bring up the subject either, as he got up from his spot, turning on the boat’s engine with a loud hum, and he sat down, steering the boat back to land. You wrapped your arms around yourself, glancing over at the white-haired sorcerer every once in a while. He kept his gaze ahead, the blindfold around his neck billowing in the air. Satoru didn't look at you once, just chewed his lip. You could tell he was tense, mind clearly elsewhere as he drove the boat, but you’d never seen him act like this. A million things ran through your head at once, a million possibilities you were too afraid to ask about or even conclude yourself. The ningyo lured men to their deaths, you knew this. With a song, with a promise. The fisherman from before had said he’d heard the voice of a past love, and if he hadn't thrown the curse overboard he might have fallen victim to it as well, might have even seen it take on the shape of that special someone too. If you hadn't just seen what you'd seen, you'd have no problem coming to the conclusion that the ningyo, the siren, would release its domain and take on the form of their victim's innermost desires, but…

Satoru’s siren looked like you. Used your voice. 

There was no reality or possibility that Satoru Gojo’s innermost desire, his loved one, was…you. 

But you’d seen him break, if even for a moment. You saw Satoru freeze, saw him allow himself to be drawn into a trap of promises and desire. The strongest. For the vision of you. 

You gazed at Satoru again, swallowing thickly as you felt your heart twist in your chest. You tried to stuff your feelings deep as you usually did, keep your wishes and hopes and painful want under that lid that you kept shut so tightly shut, but as you and Satoru stepped off of the boat, tying its rope to the dock you started off at, you knew you had to say something. Anything was better than this tense and uncomfortable silence. 

Satoru was already walking away from you, muttering something about having to call Ijichi to come and pick you two up, but you stopped walking. He glanced back, confused, his blue eyes darting to your form as you clenched your hands tightly at your sides. 

‘’Satoru…um…’’ You trailed off, looking down at your feet, your heart in your throat now, ‘’You wanna tell me what just happened?’’ Satoru froze mid-step, shoulders rising as if he was a child getting caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. He turned to face you, stuffing his hands into his pockets. 

‘’We exorcised the cursed spirit, if that’s what you mean.’’ He replied, feigned nonchalance dripping in his voice. So fake. You knew. You could tell when he was pretending. 

‘’Yes, but, also…uh, you know, about how the ningyo kinda took on my image and kind of tried to seduce you…?’’ You said awkwardly, practically forcing the words from your mouth. Your hands toyed with your hair as you met Satoru’s gaze and you swore you saw him blush. 

‘’Oh.’’ He mumbled, looking away from you, suddenly very interested in the rickety dock at his feet, ‘’Yeah…crazy stuff huh?’’ Satoru chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck furiously. You cursed inwardly. God, he was dense sometimes. 

‘’Well…um…the siren-the ningyo apparently takes on the form of their victims' innermost desires or loved ones to draw them into their trap. It’s their technique, I guess, which would explain why so many seasoned fishermen were taken by the curse. So, what I’m asking is…and if I’m totally off-base you can tell me, it’s okay, I just want to know-’’ You were rambling know, words tumbling from your lips as you dragged on and on about what you knew about the mission, but Satoru cut you off. 

‘’Yeah, I have feelings for you. That’s why the cursed spirit looked like you.’’ You blinked, staring at Satoru like he’d just grown two heads. A shiver travelled through your body, stomach flip-flopping as you repeated his words inwardly, because Satoru saying he had feelings for you was…no, you must have heard wrong. 

‘’That’s why I let my guard down.’’ Satoru said, still not looking at you, looking off to the side, a faint brush of pink coating his cheeks, ‘’Because I thought it was you.’’

Your mouth opened and closed, and you probably looked like a dumb idiot just standing there, several feet separating you and Satoru, and you couldn't find any words to reply. For years you’d spend your nights hopelessly pining after him, conjuring up potential scenarios like a lovesick school girl (which you had been) where Satoru would confess his undying love for you and you’d kiss him and you’d both run off into the sunset, happily ever after. You recited what you would say, knew exactly what words you’d use to tell him how you felt, even though in the deep crevices in your mind you knew you’d never get the chance to tell Satoru any of it, and that was fine. It was fine because as long as you got to stand by him, even as a friend, that was enough for you. Never in all your years had you ever thought it might happen like this. 

Words failed you. 

But your body didn’t, because you took a step forward, and suddenly you were running to Satoru, closing the distance between you, hands reaching out to grasp the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. Satoru’s eyes widened in surprise, hands coming up to land on your waist as if they belonged there, and when you kissed him, he kissed you back. 

He froze for a moment, his lips cautious, wavering, but when you wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing as you felt his lips on his, Satoru kissed you back, hard. His fingers curled into your hips, pulling you flush against his chest as his lips parted against yours, needy and desperate. Kissing Satoru felt like walking on air, fireworks exploding in your chest as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. His lips were impossibly soft, but the hunger in how he moved against you set your skin on fire. He kissed you like he didn’t need air, like all he needed could be found in your touch, and if he let you go, or if he stopped, this would be the last chance he’d get, ever. 

You smiled into the kiss, finally breaking apart after another moment, and Satoru pressed his forehead against yours, fighting for air as his hands ran up your back, to your shoulders, then cupping your face. He held you close, like you were something delicate, precious. 

‘’I have feelings for you too.’’ You whispered almost shyly, meeting his glittering cerulean eyes, finding everything you ever wanted within them. These were an ocean you’d gladly lose yourself in. Satoru laughed softly, sweet breath mingling with yours. 

‘’You sure you’re not a siren?’’ He asked you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, ‘’Not gonna drag me down to the watery depths?’’ You shook your head, feeling your face flush. 

‘’Not this time Satoru. I’m the real thing.’’ You replied quietly, your thumb brushing over his lips.

‘’Yeah, you are the real thing.’’ He whispered, and he kissed you again. 

~ ~ ~

a/n: saw the synopsis prompt on twitter and i couldn't get it out of my head so here we are. Took some creative liberties with the Japanese folklore of the ningyo when it came to the abilities of the cursed spirit! hope yall enjoy :)

[hannahbarberra162]

Civic Duty (Breeding Hours with Sabo)

TW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, NON CON, BREEDING KINK, MDNI

Um. Well. As the title says. Sabo is OOC but  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Royalty AU, Sabo x Reader, WC ~3k, I didn't edit this I needed to exorcise it from my body.

The soft sound chimes reverberated throughout the cold castle walls. Before, you would have found the sound soothing and pleasant, if you noticed it at all. Now, the first note of the tune had you on your feet, the book you were reading already forgotten and dropped on the floor. Before the song ended you were already gone from the library, scurrying to find the closest hiding place you could.The castle was enormous, filled with dozens of unused rooms and hallways you tried to hide in. Ultimately it didn’t matter because no matter where you hid, the Prince always found you. There was no escaping the fate he had planned but some part of you couldn’t submit without at least trying to defy his will. 

You ran as fast as your bare feet would take you, the skirt of your dress flying behind you. If you had a choice you’d be wearing pants but the Prince gave you what he wanted you to wear. He always chose fluttery dresses, the kind that trailed behind you as you ran. You suspected he got a sick thrill out of the chase which is why he hadn’t locked you in a cell. There were guards and advisors in the castle but they paid you no mind. The guards wouldn’t hinder you but they prevented you from leaving the grounds. 

Your heart was pounding as you found an old weapons room, completely empty save for a wooden chest. You climbed inside after heaving open the heavy lid, trying to close it as softly as you could. Trying to stifle the noise of your heavy breathing, you put your hand over your mouth. The darkness seemed to fall in on you, trapping you in the small space. Even so, you’d take being stuck in a chest over the Prince. Sweat pooled under your breasts as you waited, closing your eyes to focus on what you could hear. All too soon you heard the clacking of shoes on the tile floors as Prince Sabo walked at a leisurely pace towards you.

“Now where would a little rabbit hide?” Prince Sabo mused aloud, his voice becoming louder now that he’d entered the room. You knew he was talking about you but you tried to be as silent as possible in the hopes that he’d move on. His shoes clacked ever closer and your heart beat ever faster.

“She wouldn’t be so foolish as to ensnare herself in a trap, would she? Or perhaps she wanted to make herself a gift to her Prince?” His footsteps neared the chest, circling around it slowly. Your heart sank as you knew he’d found your hiding space. Hunching your shoulders, you curled into a ball for the inevitable. The lid of the chest opened all at once, Prince Sabo lifting the lid with ease. You cowered before him as he flipped it all the way open before considering you with mock sympathy. The Prince’s hair glowed golden against the light coming in from the opposite end of the room. Prince Sabo was known for his intelligence, his fighting ability and his good looks. But you knew him only as your tormentor.

“Poor little rabbit. But you know as well as I what we need to do. Come along,” the Prince said, picking you up under the arms like a child. Throwing you over his shoulder, the Prince carried you off to the Breeding Room like you weighed nothing. You squirmed and thrashed but the arm around your waist was like a band of iron. 

“It’s challenging for us both, you know. You’re tired after this morning, I can see it in your eyes. Afterwards you can rest in my bed with me,” Prince Sabo with a wave of his hand, like he was granting you a boon. You redoubled your efforts to get away - “resting” after was rarely refreshing for you.

You’d been taken by the Prince earlier in the year from your humble village. The Prince had gone from village to village with his Elite Palace Guard. All the women in the villages were lined up and the Prince looked through the assembled women for a suitable choice. Most dressed up for the event, putting makeup and their best dresses on. After all, the chosen woman would be the future mother of the heir, if not the Queen proper. They said that the Prince was just and kind, a powerful ruler who would only grow in influence in the greater East Blue continent. He’d become the ruler after a massive fire had claimed the lives of the King and Queen, leaving only Prince Sabo behind. He still bore the facial scar that showed his valiant effort to save his family. There were whispers that he set the fire himself using his immense magical powers but no one knew the truth.

You did not want to be selected, you liked your life in the peaceful countryside. So you hid in the farming fields when the Prince and his retinue rolled around, thinking he’d be none the wiser. But someone had ratted you out and he chased you down on his steed as you fled on foot through the fields. Knowing the lay of the land hadn’t helped you as he scooped you up and planted you in front of him on the saddle, holding your hair in one hand and the horse’s reins in the other. You felt his large erection rubbing against your backside as you rode but still prayed that he’d find you unfavorable.

He hadn’t.

Since then you’d lived in the castle, bred by the Prince at whatever intervals were deemed most fortuitous for conception. A chime would ring in the castle to signify that you needed to be bred by the Prince post haste, the Prince relieved from his duties until the act was complete. The times for breeding weren’t regular and didn’t come at the same time every day. Sometimes you’d be bred on the hour for an entire afternoon and others you’d have five hours to yourself to read in the library. It was maddening not to know when you’d be chased down by the Prince and bred.

Sometimes the Prince took you where he found you, no matter who was around. If he was in a meeting or granting an audience, he’d bashfully request time with his beloved, saying that it was for the future of the nation. The nobles would always say how he was so responsible to think of the nation, that they understood, that they would be back later - all as Prince Sabo gripped your arm in his bone crushing grasp. You quickly learned not to act out at that point - losing face in front of others was a sure way to be denied clothing the following day.

Once alone, he’d bend you over the nearest surface, flipping your skirt over your back and admire your exposed flesh. You weren’t allowed underwear, he said they hindered his ability to love you. You weren’t allowed to come unless on his cock or fingers but he continuously teased you, leaving you wet and wanting until it was breeding time. Even though your heart and mind revolted, the sound of the chimes had your cunt leaking before he’d even touched you. 

Most often he took you by force to the Breeding Room. No matter where you hid in the castle, you never willingly went into the same wing as the Breeding Room. As far as you were concerned it was a torture chamber. It was a room near his own, filled with various apparatuses to restrain or play with you. When you’d first come to the castle, you hadn’t known what any of them were or their purposes. He had made you pick the stand you’d be positioned on time after time until you finally understood what they did. Now he placed you how he wanted you and bred you like a bitch in heat.

And the worst part of it all was the inevitable climb and submission to pleasure he forced on you every time. Prince Sabo never hurt you or did anything more extreme than spanking. Even then, it wasn’t extended and you were fine by the next day. No, Prince Sabo liked to bring you close to climax only to let it slip through your fingers. He’d talk you through it like he was sympathetic to your plight, that everyone had to follow the rules - as if he wasn’t the one who made them. 

Hip checking the door open, Prince Sabo cooed at you like a lover would.

“Hmm, you seem to be agitated, more so than this morning. I think we’d have the best results with something relaxing for you, yes? Maybe on the couch?” He framed it as a question but it was an order. You’d never been able to sway him from his choice once he’d declared it. 

The couch was one of your most hated pieces in the room. You’d be restrained against the soft, cushy surface of the couch, your wrists and ankles bound to the sides of the plush furniture. Prince Sabo would put a wedge under your hips to keep them elevated so his come remained inside you after he was finally done. It was one of the physically comfiest pieces in the room, much better than the stocks or the cage. But with so much of you available to the Prince, it made him behave more like a lover than a stud. The Prince would trail his fingers over your now soft skin, whispered into your ear as he fucked you, giving you love bites and marks all over your body.

“N-no, please, not the couch. I’ll um, take the horse, please, not the couch!” you begged, continuing to struggle against Prince Sabo’s hold. He tutted at you while continuing on to the couch.

“You know as well as I that we must do this for the sake of the Kingdom. Be a good little Rabbit for just a little longer,” the Prince cooed at you as he deposited you on the couch. You were naked in seconds as he stripped you with precision, leaving you shivering in the cold air of the Breeding Room. Your nipples tightened with the expectation of his mouth and teeth on them while your cunt was eagerly awaiting his attention. The Prince was quite fond of sucking on your nipples, he said in preparation for when they would fill to feed his heir. The Prince, of course, did not disrobe.

You let your arms fall to the sides as you laid on your stomach on the sofa. The Prince clasped the restraints around your wrists, kissing each one before he did so.

“We must hurry, the optimal time to breed you is upon us,” the Prince said with sincerity. You didn’t think that was true since he spent so much time making you come repeatedly but you didn’t want the gag in your mouth again. Standing up to look you over, he ran a gloved hand over your back. You pulled slightly against the wrist restraints but as always, he’d locked them tight. He brought out the cushioned wedge and placed it in position under your hips, with the slimmest part of the wedge under your stomach. It effectively raised your ass in the air and kept it there for him to use as he saw fit.

“Hm, let’s determine where you are,” the Prince said, getting to his knees behind you. You squirmed as his gloved hands pulled the globes of your ass apart to inspect your cunt. You already knew what he would find, you felt your slick dripping from you already. Trailing his finger down your slit, Prince Sabo collected some of your own juices as well as his cum from the morning’s session. 

“You are wet but I don’t believe you’re ready to receive me,” Prince Sabo determined, continuing to run his fingers through your folds. “I will grace you with my mouth this session,” he said from behind. You’d heard that phrase enough times to know he was smiling, the mask of amiability slipping away. You whined as Prince Sabo restrained your ankles to the sides of the couch. You tried to close your legs but felt his strong hands on your inner thighs, wrenching them further apart. Prince Sabo tsked at you and you immediately opened your legs as wide as they would go. 

“We don’t need the spreader bar, do we, Rabbit? I think we’ve come farther than that,” Sabo said, kneading the tender flesh at the tops of your inner thighs. Leaning in closer, he licked a long stripe with the flat of his tongue up your entire slit, ending at your weeping hole.

“Delicious as always,” he sighed into your cunt. The Prince loved licking, biting, and eating you until you were a sobbing mess, begging him to breed you. He relished in your forced submission, bringing you to orgasm until he was satisfied. 

With a soft hum, the Prince set himself behind you and began his task. He was as cruel as ever, lapping at you sloppily, teasing your clit as he desired. He spent most of his time dancing around your clit but never quite reaching it. He didn’t tongue fuck your hole as he sometimes did since he’d already come in you that day, but he did push his thick middle finger into you, the loud squelching noise betraying your arousal. You couldn’t stop a soft moan from escaping your lips as the Prince was between yours.

“Ah, little Rabbit, you make such lovely sounds. I know you’re eager, shhh, I know, but just a little more. We need you prepared to fulfill your civic duty,” Sabo said solemnly, his thumb tracing your ready hole. With that, he resumed eating you like he hadn’t in months, this time his tongue rolling against your clit with precision. You tried to muffle your cries but the Prince had always been able to draw lewd noises out of you. You knew you were going to come on his cock, it was inevitable. That was the worst part of it all - no matter where you hid, no matter what you told yourself or how hard you steeled your will against him, you’d be coming around the cock of the Prince as your cunt sucked him in. He sucked your clit gently into his mouth as he added a second finger to join the first. Curling his fingers, he found the spot you wished didn’t exist, the spot that made everything feel so much more.

“N-no - n-not there, Pr-ince,” you cried, your voice breaking as he rubbed the spot while kissing your clit.

“Mmh, who are you to defy the will of the Prince?” Sabo said lightly while pushing harder on the spot. Resuming his leisurely meal, your toes curled as the precipice grew closer, the coil within you tightening ever further…until he stopped. You wanted to scream and thrash against him, you couldn’t take much more today. 

“Shhh, shhh,” the Prince said, rubbing your lower back with his hand. “I know, I know. We’ll get you there. You know I don’t like doing this either, but your orgasm exponentially increases your fertility. We have to do things in a certain way, hm? I’ll attend to you, little Rabbit, don’t fear. It’s time,” he said, false sympathy coating his tone. You heard him unfastening his pants and felt the tip of his fat cock prodding your wet hole.

“Aaah just so,” Sabo grunted as he sheathed himself in one brutal thrust. You mewled and the Prince stilled, as he always did, and allowed you time to adjust. A few moments later he began moving, thrusting into your backside and pushing down on your lower back. The effect made his cock hit all the spots that made your vision fade to white. You felt his heavy balls slapping your clit as he pistoned into you at a steady rhythm. 

“Good aah little Rabbit…taking your Prince’s cock so well nngh…such a scared little Rabbit, but it must be done hah. You need to be bred, your body craves being filled to overflowing with my seed. I’ll keep you stuffed full of my cock until you’re carrying my heir. And even then, I’m going to keep breeding you…you’ll be my little Rabbit forever….nngh…filled with my cock and cum….aaah,” the Prince said as he continued to work you closer to orgasm. His fingers snaked down to your clit and began rubbing it in tight circles. You began crying at his words as well as his movements, moans and mewls slipping out of you in equal measure. You couldn’t focus on his words as he played with your body and brought you close to release. The coil in your stomach was wrapping tighter and tighter and you knew the outcome before it happened.

“Are you ready, Rabbit? Ready to hah hah be pumped full again? If you want my seed, then come on my cock,” the Prince groaned, rubbing your clit even harder and faster than before. The tension in you snapped as you came with a cry around him, your cunt fluttering around him as your vision narrowed into black.  Your release triggered the Prince’s as well but he continued fucking you through your orgasm as he reached his own. You felt his hot come shooting inside you as his cock twitched with his release. He kept himself inside for a few more moments in order to ensure all his cum was kept within you. 

After removing himself, Prince Sabo used his fingers to fuck anything that had spilled from you back into your hole. You whined, the sensation bordering on pain. Prince Sabo placed a kiss on the middle of your back.

“For the sake of your kingdom you must endure, Little Rabbit.”

[ozzgin]

Hello.

Do you think I can request headcanons for Nakamaro ?

Like in an alternate route, reader and him (he's in his twenties because... magic ?) are married and reader is pregnant.

But the funny thing is, Nakamaro can't bully the yokais because reader will exorcise him each time he tries.

Aaaaah I finished writing and only afterwards it occurred to me you might've wanted a modern day reader for this. 😭 I imagined the events in his own timeline. Oh well. I think it can work both ways. Just replace the ancient pouch with, I don't know, a visa card that he throws at your parents for wife payment.

Yandere! Onmyōji x Reader

Yokai Harem AU as the wife of Abe no Nakamaro, a legendary sorcerer and collector of yokai. Although you're not quite as powerless as to not keep his cruelty under control.

Content: female reader, arranged marriage, mentions of pregnancy

[Main Story] [Character Guide]

Your family had vehemently opposed the marriage. To think their one and only daughter would fall into the hands of such a cruel man. The famous Abe no Nakamaro, descendant of Abe no Seimei himself, has quite a contradicting reputation. He has saved many lives, cured countless illnesses, protected villages from monsters and brought peace to the land. Yet many have also witnessed his ruthless nature: the arrogance he has towards humans, the disdain and utter disgust he harbors towards demons. He is quick to punish, rarely forgives, and never forgets. The yokai he’s captured under a binding contract are kept on a leash, like cattle before slaughter.

It is this man who approached your parents one day, when you were still young, demanding your hand. He claimed you had special powers and a lot of potential under the right guidance. Such spiritual prowess would waste away in a family of plebeians. You don’t remember much of the discussion, only the expressions: the man��s mocking grin as he threw a pouch fattened with coins, the frown of your parents who wanted to refuse, the uneasy, grim eyes of the horned demons brought to intimidate. It was clear they were there against their will. One will find just how difficult it is to go against the wishes of the onmyōji, and you happened to be his most ardent desire. Thus, with a heavy heart, you’d been sent away with the stranger who promised you were to live a life of luxury. One your parents could never afford.

True to his word, you have not struggled since. In Akutagawa’s short masterpiece, Hell Screen, artist Yoshihide is wicked and vicious towards everything and everyone except his beloved daughter. Similarly, the sorcerer seems to have a soft spot for you in particular. He often praises your talent, and patiently caters to your whims without complaint. You once inquired about it yourself, as the idea weighed heavily on your mind: why is it that he does not show the same hostility towards you? He stared at you as if you just grew two more heads. "You're my wife. What else is there to question?"

This favoritism, however, is to the benefit of everyone. Especially to the yokai under his command. You've grown rather fond of the demons in your years spent alongside them, and they've quickly learned that your presence means safety from any punishment. Some need reassurance more than others. To these you've even begun to feel like a motherly figure, shielding them from the wrath of an unforgiving master. At last, an authority even Abe no Nakamaro himself can't disobey: the word of his wife.

And soon enough, as if your marriage wasn't already the ultimate argument, you welcome the return of your husband with the news he's always longed for: you are the soon-to-be mother of his child. His name has just been guaranteed to continue its course through time. To say he is elated is an understatement. You've only seen him smile so genuinely once before in your life, on your wedding day.

"Can you imagine the powers this child will command?" He muses, referring most likely to the fact you've both been blessed with an innate, unmatched talent in onmyōdō. You finish rolling the parchment paper and gently tap his head with the scroll in a scolding manner. "You better not burden the kid with your bizarre expectations!" The same man feared throughout the country is chuckling apologetically at your gesture. "As the Mother says."

[beachbunnyofficial]

musings on announce

Lately I’ve been feeling hopeless, not just hopeless but numb. The state of the world is horrendous and I’ve been consumed with the news, practically swallowed whole. We just announced our third album I should be thrilled - I’m not. I’m just going through the motions. From a personal standpoint I worry about how I’ll find my footing. I use to be so confident in what I was writing, now it just feels like creativity is pointless - maybe everything feels pointless (I know that’s not true). I’ve been comparing myself a lot lately to numbers and career moves. No matter what achievements I cross off it feels like I’m always chasing something bigger than myself, a feeling? Maybe I’m expecting to feel something I’ve never felt before. Maybe you don’t feel new emotions at a certain point. Is the excitement I felt winning a trophy in gradeschool the same excitement I felt headlining a fest? Hard to say. I worry my audience is slipping away even though they sellout shows and send me love letters. I feel anxious about how songs are performing when my label, manager, and booking agent all assure me “everything looks great”. My mom told me the other day when you’re at your peak it’s easy to see how far you could fall - maybe that’s what this is. I had no control over my Initial virality and now I’m trying to hold on with white knuckles. I feel guilty - guilty for being ungrateful, guilty for whining, guilty for getting jealous, guilty for not being excited - so many people would kill to be in this position. I think above all else, I’m afraid. I can’t control what’s happening to the world & maybe I’m projecting that unease onto my career - something Ive convinced myself I can micromanage. My ego’s in the drivers seat. If I tune out that could make me complacent. The discomforts a good thing… right?

I worry if you the reader - if you’ll like this album - we’re old friends meeting up for coffee after a couple years of radio silence. It’s awkward because from my end it seems like we had a falling out, but on your end maybe it feels like we’re just picking up where we left off? I can’t tell. Are you mad that I changed? Are you upset that I was distant for a couple years? Do you understand I needed some time to work on myself? Do you wish I would go back to the old me? It’s embarrassing to be insecure…I’m not always like this. But my goal is to capture how I’m feeling authentically, and as of February 15th, a week after announcing Tunnel Vision, I’m not feeling like my best self

I wrote a lot about these worries on the record - lack of control, overthinking, letting go, jealousy. I thought if I could capture those emotions in a song I could exorcise them from my body. I need to remind myself I am not my emotions, I am not my career, I am not a machine. Just a girl in Chicago trying to make some artwork about the complexity of the mind and the hardness of world. I thought at this point in my career the jealousy and comparison would be over and done with. I hope I can convince myself this body of work is important, I hope I can stop checking in, I want to not care about how it’s received. I wish I didn’t care what you think.

I should be proud I made something I truly like, with messages I still stand by, and songs I think are cool. That has always been my philosophy, where’s that now? Where did she go? I feel whole when I’m in community, when I’m watching a show I enjoy, when I’m listening to Lana and eating a bagel, I feel whole when I’m praying before I fall asleep, I feel whole when I sing karaoke, or play a gig, or when I make a new friend, or when I get to reconnect with a loved one. I feel whole when mimzy sleeps on my head and eats my hair, or I’m hugged so tight all the air leaves my lungs, I feel whole when I drink a glass of water and put on sunscreen. Checking doesn’t make me feel full, it empties me out, lowers my vibration, casts a shadow on my confidence. I need to let the art exist without holding a gun to it, I need to let myself relax without assuming the world is ending

xoxo beach bunny

[bird-brain99]

new jjk illustrations driving me insane so here’s a ficlet I wrote frantically in my phone notes app. pre-hidden inventory, pre-relationship satosugu, about 2k words

~~~

It’s late. Geto is sitting on the floor of their dorm’s lounge, back against the shitty couch, and is trying, in vain, to braid his hair. Most of the time, he can do this without even thinking about it—he’s done it every day before bed since his hair was long enough to braid—but today his hands shake, and something about the shadows creeping in around the corner of the doorframe makes it impossible to keep track of the three simple strands of hair between his fingers, and he can’t get his hair tie properly off his wrist, and—

“Dude, what are you doing in here?”

Geto jumps about a foot in the air and loses his grip on his hair again. He feels tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and wills them away. He will not cry. He will not cry. Not in front of Shoko and Gojo earlier, in the daylight, and certainly not in front of Gojo alone, now.

Gojo’s holding his hands up in surrender when he steps fully around the doorframe and into the room. He’s wearing the sleep mask with cartoon heart eyes printed on it that Shoko bought him three weeks ago as a joke and that he now refuses to get rid of. He pulls it up his forehead as he approaches Geto. “Sorry, man, I didn’t know you were thinkin’ so hard, or I would’ve stomped down the hallway a little louder.”

He ambles up to Geto and collapses next to him on the floor. “You probably did stomp your way down the hall,” Geto states, and his voice is a little too thick for his liking. “You sort of just throw your body from place to place and hope it lands upright.”

“Hey!” Gojo says indignantly, before squinting off into middle distance. “I don’t actually know if that’s an insult or a compliment. Do I need to punch you?”

“Just a neutral observation,” Geto muses. He feels the weight in his mind and stomach lift a little, even from the few moments of Gojo’s obnoxious presence.

Gojo clears his throat, and turns back to Geto, that pinched look still on his face. “Are you, uh, okay?”

“I’m fine,” he sighs, and closes his eyes, tipping his head back to rest on the couch behind him. “What’re you doing in here?”

Gojo huffs and rolls his eyes. “Don’t spin this on me. I came down here looking for you. Your cursed energy has been all over the place since the mission earlier, and now you’re lurking. Did the curse not absorb properly, or something? Do we need to take him down? That’s sad, it’s such a weird looking bird. Can we see if it can pick me up before we exorcise it? We need to find you some kind of curse you can fly on—“

“Satoru!” Geto cuts him off, opening his eyes and rolling his head to face him. Gojo pouts, and opens his mouth again, before Geto says, again, “I am fine. Just couldn’t sleep, okay? Go back to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Gojo is silent for a moment, and for a moment Geto thinks he’s won, until Gojo’s eyes begin to take on that eerie glow of the Six Eyes that turn his eyes from a human bright blue to something different. Even when they are shining and ethereal, they usually still seem natural for Gojo, except in places like this, where they cut through the dark and reveal Gojo’s unwarranted close attention. Geto puts a hand over Gojo’s face, like that will do anything. “Come on, don’t do that, that is so creepy—“

Gojo grabs his wrist and yanks his arm down. “You have salt on your cheeks, your heart rate is elevated, your eyes are red, and your cursed energy looks like it’s about to boil over. Tell me what’s going on. Tell me, tell me, tell me—“

“Satoru.” Geto says again, and tries to yank his arm away. It doesn’t work, and Gojo keeps his grip tight, so that Geto has no chance of running away. He turns his head away from Gojo to stare at the ceiling. “It’s nothing, okay? I’ll be okay.”

Gojo just hums. This time, uncharacteristically, he then lets the silence sit around them and congeal. Geto takes another deep breath when Gojo squeezes his wrist, Geto’s pulse under his palm. Unbidden, the image of the girl- the corpse- they’d found earlier that day floats to the front of his mind, her eviscerated torso and face contorted in pain, and blood, so much blood dried into the concrete of the warehouse for the flies to wallow in. The coldness and horror of that building is so at odds with the heavy warmth and life of this room, with its threadbare carpet and single dying lamp. Gojo is wearing a deep blue hoodie that looks like it costs more than Geto’s childhood home. He reaches out and drags the fingers of his hand not already occupied over the sleeve, and feels a smile cross his face just as tears prick his eyes again.

“Where do you even find clothes this soft?” He says, incredulous. Gojo opens his mouth, and closes it again. Geto doesn’t think he’s ever heard Gojo be quiet for this long, and he thinks about pressing his luck, but then he grips Gojo's sleeve, and it's all spilling out of him. "That girl, today. I don't know. I've seen gory curses, obviously, but not— not— and you two, you just move on, you see her and you just keep walking, and now I keep seeing her. I know we couldn't have saved her, but I wish— I don't know. I don't know how to be a sorcerer, and now I can't even braid my fucking hair."

His face is burning, and he pulls one hand away from Gojo to wipe new tear tracks from his face.

“Your hair?” Gojo says, then, “I’ve watched you braid your hair with three broken fingers on a moving train. You’ve never seen a body?”

Geto huffs a laugh. Gojo never finishes a thought before starting the next one. Shoko usually tells Gojo he needs to take classes in human conversation, and then, as soon as Gojo is out of earshot, she turns to Geto and tells him he needs to get a grip for finding it so endearing. Geto might live inside Gojo’s brain, if given the opportunity, and spend the rest of his life figuring out how it works.

“You realize it’s insane that you have, right?” He says. Gojo shrugs.

Then Gojo gives him the grin that leans a little on the feral side. Geto feels his face heat, and for once, is glad for his current state.

“Suguru,” he says.

“No,” Geto replies, before he can voice whatever led to that smile.

“Teach me!” Gojo exclaims, throwing one arm out and wiggling his fingers in an attempt at jazz hands without moving his hand from Geto’s. His fingers tap, staccato again his wrist.

Geto furrows his brows. “Teach you what?”

“Teach me how to braid your hair! That way if you ever need someone to do it in the future, you won’t just have Shoko yanking it around. What if you break four fingers next time?” Then, Gojo moves his free hand to run it through Geto’s hair from root to tip. Geto represses a shudder. This is a bad idea. He finds himself nodding anyway, and Gojo leaps to his feet, finally freeing Geto’s arm. Gojo positions himself behind Geto on the couch, one leg on either side of Geto, and pulls both hands through Geto’s hair.

“How do you get it so smooth?” Gojo asks. “Are you gonna keep growing it out?”

“With a lot of work,” Geto says. His hair just barely brushes his shoulders, now, but he’s always wanted to see how long he could get it, if he could get it to stretch down his back in a waterfall like his mom’s, as much as she disapproves of the idea. “I don’t know. Should I? Start by grabbing a small section towards my forehead, and split it in three.”

“Yes,” Gojo says, emphatically. “Imagine how long it will be by the time we graduate! You can hypnotize the curses with your beautiful hair, and won’t even have to fight them anymore.”

Geto shifts his weight. “Yeah,” he says. Beautiful. “Then, ah, pull the right strand over the middle, and then the left over that one.”

“Maybe I already know how to do it. I’ve watched you enough times,” Gojo muses.

Geto snorts. “Yeah, well, seeing isn’t doing, and you can’t’ve been paying that close of attention.”

“Try me.” Gojo says, and then pulls strands from either side of Geto’s head, fingers moving swiftly through his hair. It doesn’t feel like he’s just tangling it up. How close of attention does Gojo pay to Geto’s braids? How has Geto not noticed?

In no time at all, Gojo reaches the end of the braid, and holds his hand out in a gimme motion. Geto slides the hair tie off of his wrist and places it in Gojo’s palm, who ties off the end, before patting the top of Geto’s head, like he’s a cat, or something. “All done!”

“You’re kidding,” Geto murmurs as Gojo pulls his legs up and tumbles back down to the floor next to him, closer than before. Geto runs a hand over his head, over the perfectly even pattern. “Who taught you?”

Gojo rolls his eyes, and flicks Geto in the side of the forehead. “Ye of little faith! Turn your head this way.”

Before Geto can comply or protest, Gojo grabs him by the chin and turns Geto to face him. “Lemme do the fancy thing.”

Faces inches apart, Gojo pulls a few strands out from each side to frame Geto’s face, like Shoko does her hair. Gojo is so close his breath is ghosting over Geto’s still-drying cheeks. Geto doesn’t know where to look. He can’t make eye contact, but resting his eyes anywhere else feels incriminating, like a confession. Gojo's face is flat and serious as he works on Geto's hair.

“Perfect.” Gojo murmurs, leaning back and dropping his hand.

Geto clears his throat. "You could grow yours out, and we could match."

Gojo groans, and flops his body backwards on the couch. "Listen, you guys can make fun of the buzz cut all you want, but complaining about it isn't gonna make it grow faster!"

Geto reaches a hand out and ruffles it over Gojo's head. "You're just so hedgehog-y right now, it's hard to ignore!"

Gojo's grin returns, but it's quieter this time, more earnest. He knocks his shoulder against Geto's, and takes a deep breath.

"I keep seeing her, too," he says. Geto opens his mouth to respond, but Gojo barrels on, and says, "Wanna watch TV?"

Gojo stands up and grabs a DVD from the TV stand, some action movie they’ve already seen three times. When he sits down again, screen lighting up the room, he sits right against Geto, their arms pressed together. They bicker as the movie starts, and make fun of the actors, and lament the stupid decisions made by the characters, telling each other all of the ways they’d be better.

Geto wakes slowly, as sunlight begins to cut in through the room’s single window, illuminating his position leaned against Gojo’s shoulder, neck aching. He shakes Gojo awake, and they get on with things, neither acknowledging the other’s lingering smile.

[tashiberrie]

✮ HEARTWORM ✮  tashi duncan x fem!reader 

⋆💌⋆ TAGS - written with fem reader in mind, toxic relationship, reader is a lit student, angst, stanford era, no mention of tashi’s injury

wc- 763

masterlist

You two had met during a tennis tournament in 2004. After a long and intense match between the two of you, Tashi Duncan had come out on top.

You were drawn to each other instantly, like two moths to a flame, each recognising the shadows in the other's eyes.

From the start, your relationship was a tempest. You were addicted to the intensity of your connection, the way you could read each other's minds with a glance, and the way your souls seemed to intertwine in a dance of passion and pain. Your love was all-consuming, burning brightly but always on the verge of destruction.

Tashi was volatile, her moods swinging wildly from euphoric highs to devastating lows. She played furiously, the swings of her racket reflecting the chaos within her. You found inspiration in her unpredictability, your writing becoming darker, more profound, as you delved into the depths of your tumultuous love.

But your passion often turned into rage. Fights erupted over trivial matters, your words cutting deep, leaving scars that never fully healed.

You would argue until dawn, your voices echoing through the dorm room, throwing accusations and regrets like daggers. But in the quiet moments after the storm, you would cling to each other desperately, unable to let go despite the pain. You were addicted to the drama, the heartbreak, and the brief moments of bliss that followed your reconciliations.

You tried to leave once, packing your bags and walking out the door, determined to escape the cycle of hurt. But you couldn't stay away. You found yourself drawn back to Tashi, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your love. She was your muse, your torment, your everything. And so, you returned, your heart heavy with the knowledge that your love was both your salvation and your destruction.

Tashi, too, tried to move on. She sought solace in her tennis, pouring her pain onto the court, hoping to exorcise the demons that haunted her. But every swing of her racket reminded her of you, of the way you looked at her as if she were the only person in the world. She was lost without you, adrift in a sea of loneliness and longing. And so, she called you, her voice trembling with desperation, begging you to come back.

You reunions were always bittersweet, filled with tears and whispered apologies. You would cling to each other, promising to change, to be better, but the cycle would inevitably repeat. Your love was a battlefield, each skirmish leaving you more battered and bruised, but neither of you could surrender. You were trapped in a toxic dance, unable to break free yet unable to truly be together.

As the years passed, the toll of your relationship began to show. Your once bright eyes grew dull with fatigue, and Tashi's vibrant spirit became shadowed with sorrow. You were like two stars on a collision course, destined to burn out in a blaze of tragic beauty. But even as you destroyed each other, you couldn't imagine life apart. Your love was a prison, but it was also the only thing that made you feel alive.

One night, Tashi and you found yourselves back at the tennis court where your had first met. The atmosphere was hauntingly familiar, the rackets’ mournful wail echoing the ache in your hearts. You played in silence, your souls intertwined, lost in your own thoughts.

Tashi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had never met?"

You looked at her, your eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain. "Every day," you admitted. "But then I remember that even if it's killing me, I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled in Tashi's eyes, and she squeezed the handle of her racket tighter. "I don't know how to let you go," she confessed, her voice breaking.

You walked over to her and pulled her into your arms, holding her as if you could keep the world at bay. "Maybe we don't have to," you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Maybe this is just who we are."

As you held each other, rain started to fall, a fitting soundtrack to your story. You were two souls entwined in a love that was as beautiful as it was destructive, unable to break free yet unable to truly be whole together. And so, you remained, locked in a tragic embrace, bound by a love that would forever be your greatest joy and your deepest sorrow.

[lotusfueltofire]

six songs soundtrack game 🎶

Tagged by the wonderful @kindlyfeline ♥

Tagging @apothe-cary @vixenofcadmea @wickedviago and anyone who wants to do this.

RULES: make a post with links to music and/or lyrics describing six things/events about your OC/story.

Angel de Riva~ "Crow, Assassin, Angel, Kettle."

Numb by Terapi Ters Tepti | Angel after exile and getting hurt by Viago. This was recommended by Di, a dear friend of mine, and it is, to this day, my favorite Angel song.

The truth is i lied, I don't feel like im getting better. Living day to day, not gonna do it today. Just close your eyes, and breathe, okay? (...) The truth is i lied, I never stopped hurting myself. Old habits, you know, they just die harder than I can. The truth is, I can't go on forever, not if it's the same as it always was. I'd love to feel again, you know but I just can't stay sober - so I'll stay numb.

A dangerous thing by AURORA | Antidote AU's Viarook song, it has both PoV's.

Viago's PoV: Something about you is soft like an angel and something inside you is violence and danger. I knew from the moment we met, you are a dangerous thing. (...) I keep on losing feathers, I keep forgetting. There's no love in the end.

Angel's PoV: Something about you is warm and seductive, and when you're with me, you're cold and abusive. I knew from the second we met, you are a dangerous flame, you are a dangerous flame. (...) I hate it when I fall for your illusion of love, I know this is not love.

Angry Too by Lola Blanc | Angel's issues in general with anger and bottling feelings up.

I buried the unseemly urges deep down in the ground with the roots. But it's all coming up to the surface, maybe it's getting ready to bloom and I don't wanna be a monster in the making. I don't wanna be more bitter than sweet I don't know how to be just standing by blankly, not getting angry. Does it get your blood boiling? Does it make you see red? Do you wanna destroy it? Does it get in your head? 'Cause it gets my blood boiling and I'm coming unglued. It would hit you like poison, if you knew what I knew, you would be angry too.

Bitches by Mindless Self Indulgence | It's just what plays in my mind every time my Rook is in combat or when he enters serious mode (this one is less frequent lol).

Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rock Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can rhyme Bitches love me 'cause they know that I can fuck Bitches love me 'cause they know that I'm on time

Angel by Massive Attack | The song that inspired me to name Angel, makes me think of his role as a Crow.

You are my angel. Come from way above to bring me love. Her His eyes, she's on the dark side. Neutralize every man in sight.

Undisclosed Desires by Muse | Angel's song with Lucanis.

I know you've suffered, but I don't want you to hide. It's cold and loveless, I won't let you be denied. Soothing, I'll make you feel pure. Trust me, you can be sure. I want to reconcile the violence in your heart. I want to recognise your beauty's not just a mask. I want to exorcise the demons from your past. I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart.

You trick your lovers that you're wicked and divine, you may be a sinner but your innocence is mine.

I know I've put almost the entire song lyrics in some, but oh well. I love doing this because I have a playlist for my Rook and my Viarookcanis fic: I could be your antidote playlist. If you wanna read my Viarookcanis fic, click here.

[exquisink]

Fated Divergence // Yandere! Suguru Geto X Non-Sorcerer Darling

AO3

Not your best day.

You shielded the unforgiving sun from your eyes with your hand because you forgot your one pair of cheap sunglasses at home. They barely did the job anyway but at least they covered your expressions because you weren’t the best at hiding how you felt.

Rest assured, you were annoyed. Unfortunately, without those sunglasses you couldn’t hide the visible deep-set bags under your eyes. Barely getting by on a nurse’s salary. You even fucking moonlighted, and somehow that wasn’t enough to keep up the lifestyle you wanted. You supposed by all other accounts, you were still better off than a vast majority of people.

You still liked to believe in spite of what you endure at the hospital, you held a heart.

Not like you were in the profession for the pay, anyway.

You were so goddamn naïve.

Stopping in front of the Shibuya Clinic, you paused, taking a tension-banishing breath but to no avail. No matter what, you had to endure the trials and tribulations of that day and go home wondering what you could have done better.

A co-worker beamed upon seeing you, but then their expression melded into one of concern. “You want to take a day off?”

“Can I afford it, Mei?” you asked as you strolled by the receptionist desk.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Take the day off,” she assured you. “I’ll let them know something came up.”

As she said that, you glanced at your calendar only for something to dawn on you.

“I’m not even supposed to work today,” you mumbled, scoffing at your own lack of attention to detail. “I forgot.”

Mei snickered and you glowered at her a bit. Gathering herself, she cleared her throat.

“Then perfect! Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

All that effort to get here and for what…?

You strolled back out of the clinic, thankful to have the day for yourself, annoyed that you thought you had to get up earlier than usual to work a shift that wasn’t until that Friday.

You glanced at the calendar again.

Yep. Monday. Of course it was…

You pondered over what else you could do. Maybe you could finally try that bakery that opened down the street. Was it too early for a sweet treat? Did it even matter? That was one of the few things you cared to look forward to; those sweet treats were your goddamn lifeline.

It might make this crappy Monday just a little less so.

--- --- --- --- ---

Suguru found little reprieve from the burdens of his own convictions. While he made his choice, it still didn’t stop himself from being plagued by doubts on whether or not his methods were truly the only way.

After spending the early dawn exorcising high grade curses from unsuspecting monkeys, he decided to clear his mind with a stroll in the district of Shibuya… when a powerful aura caught his attention.

He found the powerful aura in you. A fucking monkey with an aura untouched and pure.

“A diamond amongst the rubble?” he mused to himself as his eyes followed you to that new bakery shop the twins adored so much for reasons he could not fathom himself. Those monkeys ran the bakery, after all… “Not entirely unheard of, I suppose. My monkey parents gave birth to a specimen such as myself.”

He, for reasons unknown to himself, followed you into the bakery. Acting charismatic as ever to the workers and ordering the twins’ usual to carry out, he stopped to observe you.

You took one of the twins’ usual orders. Those strawberry cheese danishes they loved so much. But every time Suguru ate one, he spat it out, overwhelmed by how excruciatingly sweet they were.

“My, my, someone has a sweet tooth,” he addressed you as you glanced up at him with curiosity twinkling in your eyes. “The twins I look after are partial to the ones you’re eating.”

He gave you a once-over, realizing you were in a nurse’s uniform. Someone as high and pristine as you, healing those lowly monkeys?

Yet somehow, he found it fascinating. Like you were not yet tainted by the horrors humans brought to the world; you still wished to heal these lowly monkeys instead of leaving them for dead. He sensed it just by your presence, by your aura. He could visualize it—bright, white, softly glowing around you like you were touched by God.

That God being him, of course, as he took your free hand and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb.

You were dumbstruck by the contact and you retracted your hand.

“Suguru Geto, my dear, forgive me for intruding on your morning. I just wanted to say hello.”

He glanced at your tag, eyebrows perking up upon realization. The Shibuya Clinic? Ah… that led to many possibilities.

“I’ve heard of you,” you remarked, dabbing the corners of your mouth with a napkin. Suguru seemed pleased at the fact that you had table manners, unlike so many of those other monkeys. “You’re that kooky cult guy.”

Suguru made a face.

Kooky? Suguru almost wanted to cackle in your face, but he refrained, masking the irritation through a saccharine smile.

“Ah, that would be correct. I have met many non-believers, including yourself, Miss…?”

You told him your name.

“Ah, lovely,” he replied after repeating your name, enjoying how it felt to say it. Like it just rolled off of his tongue. Such a perfect name, for a perfect specimen…

He loomed over you, intimidating you a tad with his height and unmoving quasi-friendly grin. “I don’t frighten you, do I?”

He observed as you scrutinized him. You likely heard the rumors. He may have been a bit careless with his clients. Only making few exceptions. Perhaps you heard how he had carelessly offed some clients just for looking at him a certain way or getting too close to his personal space.

Ultimately, you shrugged, and he, alarmed but intrigued by your aloofness, cleared his throat.

“Many of my clients have worked in your clinic, Miss. If ever there are situations which you can’t explain or fix, I am happy to help.”

He flashed his business card and his address to his temple.

“Uh huh,” you murmured, tone incredulous, scanning the contents of his card while sipping on your matcha latte. “I’ll consider it, I guess, Suguru.”

“Excellent. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

As he made his exit, he didn’t notice you tearing up his business card and tossing it carelessly into a nearby wastebin.

He was far too consumed in how he would have you all to himself. 

[mins-fins]

👻 chapter one . . . we'll die holding hands <3

"no chat, i'm not staring out the window because i'm scared, i saw lee heeseung outside obviously" you rolled your eyes, pointer dormant on your mouse as you squint at your screen. "i actually happen to like ghosts, whose afraid of spirits anyway?"

it isn't feigned superiority, not exactly. if it were, you'd probably appear much more full of yourself, you really aren't. your chat spams variations of "you asshole", drawing a silent snicker as you catch sight of the several insults. "my chat hates me" you sigh, eyes fluttering closed as you begin shaking your head in a dramatic fashion, hand reaching to close your curtain to elevate the spooky ambiance.

you clear your throat, hands coming to clasp in a soft sound. "let's hope sunghoon doesn't interrupt me again.. anyway, today we're playing ghosts! it's an interactive game where you're placed with a random player in a ghost hunting game, like phasmaphobia but lobbies are completely randomized and you have to guess your way through it".

an expression of pleasantry overtakes your features, considering you're the ever so horror fanatic, that isn't exactly a surprise. "pray i don't get paired with a random twelve year old" you cross your fingers, raising an eyebrow.

when you finally click the start button on your home screen, your eyes narrow, a particular sound indicating to you that the voice chat was on, an unrecognizable mutter coming through your headphones.

"hello?" a deep voice calls out, testing the mic.

"hi!" you reply cheerfully, practically hearing him reel back in his seat at the sheer volume of his voice. "are you ready to exorcise some ghosts uh—" your nose scrunches as you squint at the screen. "jisung?"

he appears to contemplate, his responding breath questioning as he clearly thinks his over his words. "not really" he replies, and you opt to snort as you capture the slight fear present in his undertone.

"aww why?" you feel for him, you're acting just the slightest bit condescending. "are you a chicken?"

"i— no! i'm just—" he takes a pause, scoffing, you're unfortunately not making things better for him, because you continuously snicker under your breath as he attempts to defend himself. "i was kinda roped into playing this? i'm not a horror guy".

you take the initiative of pouting for him. "well there's no need to worry jisungie, if you're scared you can hold my hand" you nod along as if he can see you, and he sighs as his reply to that one.

"wow, it seems chivalry isn't dead".

"if we die, we'll die holding hands" you muse. "besides, it's just a few ghosts" is your following statement, consistent clicking meeting your ears as you slowly realize he's unconsciously playing with his mouse.

"a few too many".

"chicken".

his gasp is of disbelief, you're having too much fun with this, you think you could picture the expression painting his face. "is this gonna be your thing?"

"it's my way of showcasing affection for you" you smile at your camera, eyebrows raising in unison.

"how romantic".

"don't worry, i'll protect you".

and he mutters something under his breath, he's the slightest bit hesitant, but you don't mind, there's nothing you love more than a good old scaredy-cat, it gives you a good laugh.

previous masterlist next

[grunklejam]

NEW TO NOT S&P APPROVED!

The Exorcise Your Demons Acrylic Phone Charm

A 4.5cm recycled acrylic phone charm, featuring a very tired Grunkle Ford within the grips of journal writing - and the threatening grasp of his one-time muse, the terrible Bill Cipher. Complete with a translucent 'portal' suncatcher window and a braided, silver phone charm loop.

"When Stanley asked me to put together a product for his little side hustle, I was initially very resistant to the idea. I'm a scientist first and foremost, with little interest in even the most charming of keychains. (My Scooby Doo collection must remain a secret, for now.)

However, my bright Great-Neice (Greice?) Mabel pointed out that this could be a great opportunity to tell my story - and a great opportunity to warn others about what I've been through. That is paraphrasing, of course. She had gummi worms in her nose at the time. But it was enough to convince me - and what better warning than to tell than my time of servitude at the hands of Bill Cipher? Think of this as a cautionary charm, telling you to deny those criminal miscreants of the multiverse entry into your mind.

It's also lovely, colourful, and very eco-friendly, being built out of 100% recycled and recyclable acrylics that have reached the end of their life-cycle and are destined for landfill or incineration. It's just as good as new plastic, whilst being completely VOC and HFC-Free. That means my cautionary message to keep the world safe isn't going to sacrifice its environment."

4.5cm wide acrylic charm with double-sided print

Silver braided phone charm loop and strap

100% recycled acrylic from renewable manufacturers

VOC and HFC-Free

Manufactured in the UK

[maharlika]

soft byaren snippet

just some random fic-y thoughts that crossed my mind and needed to be exorcised 🌸 a little bonus byahisa in there too!

Though it rankles on Byakuya to even compare them at all, it has occurred to him that there advantages to his relationship with Renji that his relationship with Hisana did not have.

As a low-born soul, Hisana truly had nothing to offer him—not in any way that would matter to his family. It did not matter that she was brave, that she had gone through horrors no person should have gone through and had come out of it intact, that she was radiant and warm and had taken one look at Byakuya and attempted to steal his coin purse and bitten him when he flash-stepped up to her.

It had only mattered that she had no wealth, no connections, no pedigree to speak of.

And though Renji is just as low-born, he is a viciously competent soldier, a well-respected leader, and Byakuya’s own fiercely devoted lieutenant. In all the ways that matter in Soul Society, Renji has proven himself, has fought wars and bled and killed.

Renji has power, influence, allies. He has the capacity to be Byakuya’s equal in a way Hisana could never be.

It would be a good match. It would even, Byakuya muses, be an acceptable match.

If not for one thing. There is always one thing.

Renji is a man. And Byakuya needs to produce an heir.

“Your reiatsu changes when you’re thinking too hard about something, you know.”

The door slides open, and Renji steps inside with a grin in place. He stows Zabimaru into place beside Senbonzakura, an action as natural to him as his presence in Byakuya’s private rooms.

“That can’t possibly be true,” Byakuya says, turning a page on the book he has not been reading.

“It totally is,” Renji says, plopping down next to him. He always plops, Renji. Or falls, or lands, or folds himself. He can’t simply sit. “It makes you feel…sizzly.”

“Sizzly,” Byakuya says. He does not turn to look at Renji, though he would confess, if pressed, that he leans in just a little closer.

He needn’t have bothered with the pretense: Renji slings an arm across his waist, noses at his ear, and hums, low and pleased. “Yeah. Feels good.”

“I’m not—doing it for your benefit,” Byakuya says, interrupted only briefly by Renji’s teeth on his neck.

And then there is not much talking, because Renji kisses him. Byakuya wonders if Renji can feel his reiatsu shifting from this—from the surge of sweet pleasure, the helpless lowering of every defense he has ever put up. He wonders if Renji knows just what he does to him.

“Wanna let me know what’s going on in that gorgeous brain of yours?” Renji asks, all while bearing Byakuya to the floor.

“You have no idea what my brain looks like,” Byakuya says, just to be contrary—he is, after all, allowing Renji to crawl on top of him. He can’t let him get away with everything.

“That’s true,” Renji says, nodding, sliding his hands down Byakuya’s sides, slipping them under his robe. “But if the rest of you is anything to go by, it’s gotta be damn pretty."

[galactica7071]

I have a lot of OCs but the vast majority of them are "character I like so much I turned them into an OC"

specific examples below cut

niitsu, a young miko who lives on her own and is entrusted with keeping peace between humans and The Everything Else. based on reimu hakurei (obviously) and luigi (younger sibling, green and blue color scheme, close friends with a strong woman named after a flower, odd jobs include exorcising haunted homes)

arui, a thrill-seeking oni who's perpetually drunk. sidekick of niitsu, one of my primary MCs. based on yuugi hoshiguma (oni, single forehead horn, always holding a sake dish) and wario (yellow and purple color scheme, being a treasure hunter and well-known fighter)

honoka, a lonely oni-turtle princess of hell who's existence is kept a secret because it would cause a scandal. based on bowser jr. (brat, owns an enchanted paintbrush, lives in a castle in a fiery place, her mother is based on bowser), flandre scarlet, and chibiusa (rebel, she's one of those "1000-year-old children" because her turtle half is minogame, an extremely long-lived turtle youkai)

ashley, an aloof witch-in-training who's destined to become a vampire. based on ashley from warioware (same name, witch, lives mostly alone in a big mansion on the edge of town, likes food) and hotaru tomoe (mostly dark/purple clothing also she's a lesbian)

nyani, an ex-space cop nekomata and respected sharpshooter + ghost tamer. she's my comfort character sponge so she's based on a lot of characters but mainly chiyuri kitashirakawa (blonde, sailor uniform, general sci-fi vibes), jibanyan (nekomata), spitz (yellow cat, sci-fi, level-headed, totally dating a big orange dog fr fr he told me so himself) and daisuke jigen (wears suits sometimes, shoots good, military background, best friends with a swordsman)

hukako, an emotionally distant alien messenger with vague mind control powers. based on orbulon (pale, alien, same cape), alice margatroid (their last name is just margatroid), and sakuya izayoi (their power mainly affects sense of time)

muse, a geeky, airheaded, masochistic mouse-human chimera. my current blorbo. she is quite literally just pinky (of pinky and the brain fame) as a kemonomimi girl with a pinch of fanon ran yakumo (affectionate, dubiously-reliable sidekick)

[boogiewoogieweeb]

fic writer ask! fic writer ask! (numbers 3, 21, 43, 63 please? 🥺)

how can i refuse when i'm asked so sweetly by my very good friend and beloved joplittle co-conspirator, my darling helen?

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

phase 1: have fic idea phase 2: ? phase 3: PROFIT PUBLISH FIC

all jokes aside, i don't know if i can rightly be described as having a legitimate creative process when writing. i like to plot things out sometimes, and often i'll start a fic with a specific scene or bit of dialogue in mind. but other than that, i'm what i like to think of as an "opportunistic" writer. that is to say, i write mainly when inspiration strikes, and when it does, i write like i'm possessed by the ghost of robert louis stevenson himself. i don't really take breaks, and i don't stop writing until the idea has either been exorcised or my hands cramp up from typing; because when i inevitably run out of steam, my motivation tends to disappear into thin air as well. it's not a healthy nor particularly sensible way of doing things, but it is how i write. i've tried pacing myself, doing sprints, and even writing a few lines of stream-of-consciousness drabbling each day, all with varying levels of success. invariably, however, it's only ever when my muse lovingly plunges her divine hands into the wet slurry of my brain and stirs things around in there like a kid agitating an anthill with a stick, that i manage any actual feats of writing (prodigious or otherwise). and my muse, unfortunately, is nothing if not fickle.

21. Would you ever collaborate with another writer for a story?

you know, i never have, though i would certainly love to at some point. my main worry however is my own flakiness, and so in that regard, i think i'm much better suited to serving as a kind of fic springboard against which to lob ideas and concepts to see what might stick. but in the interest of interest, yes, i would very much be willing to collab at some nebulous point in the future.

43. Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

it's always whump o'clock in my house. i wouldn't say i necessarily take sadistic joy in it, but i'm also very much of the opinion that if you can't put your faves through the wringer both emotionally and physically, then they're not really your faves. also, as someone who tends to relate strongly to the characters i write, i channel a lot of my own life experiences (and by extension, any accompanying pain and trauma) into my characterizations. who says projection can't be fun AND cathartic?

63. Something you hate to see in smut.

bad characterization. i can excuse a great number of things in the name of horniness, but any kind of mischaracterization (especially of my faves) is not one of them. it's something that, no matter how steamy and raunchy and technically well-written the smut is, the second i encounter it, it kills the vibe stone-dead and completely takes me out of the fic. it's to the point where i will immediately and without hesitation dnf any body of mischaracterized work, even if i'm already several chapters and tens of thousands of words in. my other pet peeves in smut are overly flowery descriptive nouns and adjectives. *stares in mid-2000s ff.net*

thank you so much for the ask, helen 💖💖💖 i'm always thrilled whenever your username pops up on my screen, and this time was no exception. ily sm my dear, and hope that my answers were coherent, interesting, and informative (aka, to your liking).

[rustbeltjessie]

Poetry’s Dead (Undead Undead Undead)

Poetry & Halloween go together like candy corn & carved pumpkins because poetry is, at its heart, a haunted thing. All poems are about ghosts, even if they’re not about ghosts. They’re all haunted by the traces of memory (the poet’s own memory, but also the ghosts of history that each word carries with it). Writing a poem is a way to summon ghosts, but it can also be a way to exorcise your ghosts & demons, or at least expel them from your mind and bind them with paper & ink. (As Sandra Cisneros wrote: I put it down on paper and then the ghost does not ache so much.) Poems are also a bit like spells. Spells to conjure the past or shape the future. Spells to heal the writer/reader, or get revenge on what has harmed them. Or creation spells which bring forth something beautiful that wasn’t there before. I suppose any form of writing could be considered a spell, but poetry feels even more tied to spell-work because of its rhythm and sound. There is something inherently incantatory about it.

So, yes, all poetry fits into the Halloween season, at least in some small way. But one can make the connection even more obvious, depending on what is being written about. And that is exactly what I’m doing with both my current works-in-progress. All writers write about their obsessions. I am a giant nerd who is kinda goth, so some of my obsessions are very Halloween-y. If all poems are implicitly about ghosts, many of my poems are explicitly about ghosts. Ghosts are the overarching theme in my in-progress full length collection. Some of its other themes and inspirations include: murder ballads, urban legends, fairy and folk tales, witchcraft, monsters, and horror films. I recently completed a poem for that manuscript titled “Planet of the Monster Girls.” It’s about a group of girls obsessed with classic horror films and their stars: Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, Peter Lorre, Vincent Price, and Lon Chaney, Jr. Writing that poem rekindled my own obsession with those actors. I splurged on Etsy items relating to them, and built a sort of altar/shrine in my workspace. I rewatched their films, and did internet and library searches for more information about those monstrous leading men. And then the poems came. I found myself scribbling epistolary prosepoems to Peter Lorre. (It started with him because I have a long-running obsession with Mr. Lorre that would require an entire separate essay to explain). Soon after, I began writing missives to the rest of them, too.

I have so many other things I’m working on right now that I tried to resist it at first. No way am I starting another effing book, I told myself. But the epistolary poems kept coming, and then I started doing some erasures as well, from the books and articles I’ve been reading about those men. (Because how often does one find a source text full of choice words like quirky, deviant, venom, mesmeric, dread, and menace?) After a couple weeks, I had to admit to myself that I am, indeed, working on a new book. I don’t yet know what the final form or structure will be, or whether it will be a chapbook or a full-length. But right now I don’t care, because I am enjoying the process. This project is giving me a way to discuss serious topics while paying tribute to some of my favorite actors and films. It is giving me a fun way to juxtapose the ‘high art’ of poetry with the ‘low art’ of vintage horror, noir, and b-movies. (And it gave me an excuse to decorate a special notebook in which to write the poems.)

Yes, poetry & Halloween go together like ghosts and crumbling old mansions. Yes, all poems are spells and summonings. And this year, I’m spending my Halloween season writing spells which summon the ghosts of my muses: Boris, Bela, Peter, Vincent, & Lon.

—Jessie Lynn McMains (originally published in The Poetry Question, October 2019)

[brazenlystrong]

"I don't want to be alone tonight."

send me "I don't want to be alone tonight." for my muse's reaction to yours saying that to mine. // @vzmky

1 AM. Gojo Satoru is sitting at his desk, the soft hum of the AC is the only sound in the room. His off hours technically start at 10 PM but as usual, rest eludes him. A half-finished stack of paperwork sits to his left, and he isn’t sure if he is staring at the calendar with the upcoming week’s missions and schedules or if it is staring at him. He can’t peel his eyes off it for a moment, perfectly memorizing the routine and the list of intended times of events.

He leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head, but the tension remains knotted in his shoulders. His mind is a whirl of responsibilities—students to train, curses to exorcise, and the constant balancing act of maintaining his carefree façade carrying the weight of being the strongest sorcerer. He glances at the clock. Another late night. Another restless few hours before dawn.

Gojo picks up a pen, twirling it between his fingers with absent-minded precision. He’s about to reach for the next stack of papers, and then—he can sense him. The pen is flicked back into the pen holder. Satoru gets up, pushing the chair back with the abrupt movement, and ditches whatever is on his desk.

His senses are razor-sharp and his mind snaps to attention. “ Suguru… ” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. He steps out into the hallway, his hand going into his pockets for his sunglasses but midway he stops himself from taking them out. He immediately locks eyes with Suguru who’s standing just down the corridor.

“ You’re up late, ” Gojo says, but he's not one to talk. So is he.

The response he gets has him still in place, processing the admission. He knows how they both are like, especially how Suguru is like. He doesn’t usually say things outwardly like that, always the one to hold it all together, keeping things practical between them. But tonight, something has shifted. The urge to close the distance between them is almost overwhelming. For a moment, Gojo’s mind races, considering what to say.

“ Then let’s head to my penthouse, “  he says, maintaining a gentle but firm tone to his voice.  His hand lingers near Suguru’s, and in the stillness, he wraps his fingers around his. “ Come with me. Be with me tonight. ”

Without a word, Gojo turns to lock the door to his office before gesturing for Suguru to follow. His heart beats a little faster as they walk side by side, leaving the quiet, empty halls of the school. The night outside is cool, and the moonlight shines above them, as though they're the sole wanderers beneath the sky's navy canopy.

[tabithathetookacat]

Exorcising some musings from Good Omens season 2

I might be in the minority but I liked the finale. It'd be different if I wasn't positive that these two are going to get their happy ending, either in a 3rd season or a book, but since I am certain of that, I'm looking at the finale as part of the story not the end of it. As far as storytelling goes, if this is heading where I think it is, I'm happy for it.

I think Aziraphale was far more in the wrong in the last episode and will have to apologize which, ideally, will include that dance, but I also think he was being true to his character. Aziraphale still has to overcome the naivety he has for heaven and it being "good". I think he really believed he would be able to fix everything, Crowley included and the two of them could be happy. His error is thinking Crowley needs fixing.

I absolutely believe Metatron was manipulating Aziraphale in order to separate the two of them because of the threat they pose. Not just because they helped thwart the first apocalypse or that they, again, are in the center of another crisis heaven was facing but because that tiny miracle they thought they were preforming was more powerful than anything heaven or hell has ever seen. My theory is the magic or miracles they can perform together is terrifying to the powers that be because it not only is using the forces of light AND the forces of dark but also has the power or love. That real, deep love that no one on either side can understand. Maybe God but I'm not sure she's in control anymore.

I realize that Gabriel & Beelzebub were also an angel and demon in love and not considered a threat but I don't think the love those two professed for each other is comparable to Aziraphale & Crowley. It's a love between two beings who don’t really know what love is. It's like comparing the love between a couple of elementary school children who decided at recess to be boyfriend and girlfriend to the love of a happily married couple celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary, only times that by 100. I also don't necessarily think those two were allowed their happy ending. We could find out later they were just allowed to leave the bookshop as part of a bigger plan to get Aziraphale to accept Metatron's offer.

The last little musing is just to say how amazed I am at the talent in this fandom. A lot of you artists have been blowing my mind for the past week and I’m looking forward to seeing what fics you guys come up with while we wait for the story to continue.