#I just hope they all learn and grow from this

[kittykat-25]

HOME- An S.Coups Fic

Pairing: Seungcheol x Reader

Genre: Comfort, Scoups savings the day

Synopsis: you’ve never had an issue with hiding your relationship with Seungcheol but he does when your ex gets a little too close.

A/N: me being completely WHIPPED for Choi Seungcheol. This is my first Seventeen Fic so I hope you enjoy🥹

The SVT men’s POV here

Sitting at dinner with your friends from your home town whom you haven’t seen since you moved almost a year ago. You glared at your so called best friend; Tori, she raised her eyebrow at you in question. You cut your eyes to the man sitting beside you, a little too close for comfort. Your ex, who you were not told was coming on this trip smiles at you. You force a smile and turn to glare at your friend. “Your hairs longer.” He said twirling a strand of your hair between his fingers. “Yeah hair grows out in a year.” You mumbled pulling your head away. “How do you like living in Seoul?” Another friend asked. “I love it, I love the fast pace and the friends I’ve made are incredible, learning the language was a hard start but you pick it up fast.” You friend scoffs, “tell us more about this boyfriend of yours? We don’t even know his name.” You smile as Cheols face fills your mind, “he’s amazing,I’m sorry he couldn’t be here tonight.” You missed your best friend roll her eyes. You jump feeling a hand brush your thigh, grazing the skin where your dress ends. You look over and find your ex smirking at you, shoving his hand away. “Stop.” You said quiet enough to not draw attention. He chuckled and leans back and your friends pepper you with more questions.

A while later you’ve had enough of the constant touches and sly comments from your ex. You excuse yourself and walk towards the bathroom pulling your phone out pressing the first contact in your recents, “Choi Seongcheols phone, the other love of his life speaking!” Rings out as Jeonghan; you and Cheols best friend answers, his voice bringing you small amount of comfort.” Hannie,-“ you are quickly cut off.” Y/n, why are you being such a bitch tonight.” You mute Jeonghan and turn towards your old friend, “excuse me?” You ask, “you are being so rude to him, bringing up a boyfriend that probably doesn’t even exist, you broke his heart and then fled the country. Give him a break.” You laugh, though there’s no humor behind it. “I broke his heart, he cheated on me. He needs to get over it. It’s the consequences of his actions.” You add, “and you asked about My love life. I told you already I was seeing someone. You chose to do that.” You snapped back. “Oh please, we both know you don’t actually have a boyfriend. You just want to make it seem like you have it together over here. When clearly you are losing it.“ Tori scoffs, you roll your eyes, “Fuck you.” Tori’s jaw drops a little, stunned by your reaction. “You’ve turned into a real bitch since you moved. You never use to treat me this way.” You rolled your eyes, “I apologize that me no longer being a push over inconveniences you.” She stomps by and you let out an exhale before turning your attention back to the phone call. “Y/n” Jeonghan started, “please come get me.” You sigh into the phone. “CHEOL” you hear another friend yell, Joshua by the sounds of it. “Where are you?” He asked as you hear shoes being thrown on. The voice of your boyfriend coming to life in the background. “Baby? What happened?” He ground out, worry laced in his words. You heard the car door shut, multiple voices pilling in. “Her friends are dicks, did they tell you your ex was going to be here.” Jeonghan said gruffly. “No.” your voice said shakily. “He won’t stop making comments and- touching me.” You add quieter. You hear an exhale and know it’s Cheol. “He touched you?” A deeper voice asked kindly but you can hear the venom that’s not normally there, Wonwoo. “I’m interrupting guys night, I’m so sorry.” You apologized when you processed all the voices you had heard. “Don’t you dare apologize for calling me when you need me baby.” your boyfriend exclaimed, “We’re five minutes away y/n. We’ll see you soon.” Jeonghan calls to you before the call ends.

You put on a brave face and walk back to the table. Your ex takes him time racking his eyes over you, bile rising in your throat. But your old friend was right, you had changed since you moved. You were no longer timid and shy. Being best friends and dating the leader of Seventeen will do that to a person. Hard to be scared when 13 guys have your back, the few men on their way proving that point. You never told your friend you were dating Cheol, she was a fan and you didn’t need the rumors starting, you had been very careful with your relationship. Only Pledis and your families knew. And yet here he comes to rescue you, the guilt of what this will publicly do starts the make you panic. Worsening as you sat down, your exes hand came down on your thigh. You shoved him off, “do not touch me.” You stated. Loud enough for the three others to hear. He laughed, “there’s no harm in it y/n.” You glare at him, “there is when I said stop. Multiple times now.” Your other friends chuckle, “yall bicker like a married couple.” Tori says with a smile. “It’s not bickering when he crosses boundaries.” You snap. You look into the reflection of the mirror on the wall, breathing a sigh of relief when you see the familiar black car of your boyfriend pull up. Your grin falters when you feel the weight of a hand on your thigh again. You shove him hand off and onto the table, not even thinking before grabbing the steak knife as well. Stabbing it into the table between his fingers. “Touch me again and it’ll go through your hand.” Venom dripped from your voice, your exes face turned sour, his hand rearing back before it was caught in a thigh grip. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Cheol spat, shaving him away from you. Tori gasped when she realized who was behind you, his hand out reached for you to take. You grabbed your purse and slid your hand into his, pulling you gently to your feet, you looked behind him to find Jeonghan standing behind Cheol, Joshua, Wonwoo and Mingyu standing a few feet away. A hard look on their faces, “please take her to the car.” He called back, you walked towards your friends, smirking at Cheols dominance. You made it to the door of the restaurant when you turned back, Cheol leaning down saying something to your old friends making their faces pale. He straightened up, face hard but completely melting into a soft smile for you. Taking your hand and leading you to the car, putting the restaurant and your old friends in the past.

A/n: sooo I might post a pt2 of some sorts. Maybe from Jeonghan’s POV but I hope you enjoyyy

[quaithe-seastar]

Let The Light In

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Summary: You try to help Aemond relax when the world outside your shared bedroom becomes too much for him to handle.

Warnings: slight angst & fluff

A/N: This fic is incredibly self-indulgent, as I am deeply infatuated with Aemond's hair. No beta, so I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes!

The soothing, gentle sound of crackling wood from the fireplace echoed in the air. The shadows of the flames danced along the walls of your and Aemond’s shared bedchamber. Lately, though, it seems like it’s just yours. Your husband had decided to sleep in his own private quarters for the past week. Something that perturbed you deeply. 

This week has been filled with the most restless nights you've had in years, leaving you thoroughly exhausted. You had grown quite accustomed to sleeping in Aemond’s strong arms. The two of you had never spent a night apart since your wedding night two years ago. The marriage had been arranged, of course, but the two of you had quickly become besotted with each other. 

Has your spark faded so soon?

You took a deep breath, trying to keep yourself calm. Surely, you were just overthinking things. Aemond had his hands full with the threat of war looming on the horizon. It made sense that he would have little time for you. That was just something you would have to learn to accept.

You let your eyelids fall closed as you continue to run the brush through your hair. The day had quickly come and gone. The hour of ghosts was quickly approaching. You prayed that sleep would come easier tonight. Your poor mind and body craved a peaceful night's rest.

You jump on the small cushion bench you have been sitting on as your bedroom door slams open and closed—Aemond storms into the room. You watch quietly as he paces the room, mumbling angrily in high valyrian. You try to gauge what he is saying, but he is talking too quietly and far too quickly for you to understand. Even with the lessons Aemond and Maester Orwyle have given you over the past year and a half, it was nearly impossible to comprehend Aemond when he spoke so quickly.

You call him, but he ignores you. So you try again, this time much louder. His back is turned to you. You watch as he slowly turns, his eye wandering about the room as if it were some foreign place. You squirm in your seat when his gaze finally falls upon you.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I thought I had gone to my room.”

Your heart sinks at the thought that he no longer considers this his room.

“It is yours, just as much as it is mine,” you shrug.

“Of course,” he mutters sheepishly, shuffling his weight back and forth on his feet.

“Has something happened?” You ask, hoping to draw him into a conversation before he tries to flee.

With an exasperated sigh, Aemond moved to the bed, sitting at the edge. He clenched the blanket tightly in his hands. The two of you sit in silence. You have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from badgering him with questions. He’ll never talk if you do that. The minutes feel like hours, but soon, he speaks.

“My mother is angry with me,” he says quietly. 

I should have known, you thought. You were well aware of the strain growing between your husband and good-mother since he had returned from Storm’s End. Since the murd- the death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon. Your heart aches for your husband. You know how close Aemond was to his mother and how much she meant to him. No doubt, the distance between them was significantly affecting him.

“She blames me for starting this war. As if she and my father's council have not been plotting to usurp the throne for years,” he scoffed.

His voice was laced with anger and frustration. You want nothing more than to go to him. To reach out and soothe him, but you're afraid he will leave. This was the most time he had spent with you in a week. You were desperate for his attention.

“The realm is preparing for a war the likes of which Westeros has never seen. She is afraid.”

“Aren’t we all?” He snickered.

The two of you sat in silence. Aemond rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head in his hands. He seemed so small, almost like a child. Your heart grew heavy, weighed down by your worry and concern for your sweet husband. You wanted to help him, but you did not know how—or if he would even let you.

Your fingers twitch, curling around the brown wooden brush handle in your hand. You look down at it. A smile spreads across your lips as an idea finally comes to mind. You turn around, placing the brush down on the table before turning back towards him.

“Come here,” your soft voice cuts through the silence. You beckon Aemond closer with your hand.

Aemond lifts his head. The man looks at you apprehensively, his eye flickering towards the door. For a moment, you fear he will run, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a slight nod and pushes himself up from the bed. You stand just as he’s about to reach you and quickly step aside. You gesture towards the cushioned bench, instructing him to sit. He hesitates but follows your instructions.

 Aemond sits up tall on the bench, his body tense and rigid. His violet eye watches you in the mirror as you step behind him.

“May I?” You ask, gesturing to his eyepatch.

His face goes pale, and for a moment, you regret asking. Perhaps you were overstepping. Though before you can apologize, he nods his head. Your heart skips a beat, overjoyed that he still trusted you enough to see him like this. You have to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

You try to steady your trembling fingers as you loosen the eyepatch strap. Your eyes flicker towards the mirror. He isn’t looking at you anymore. Instead, his violet eye is closed. He flinched, and his brows knit together as you pulled the eyepatch off his head. You freeze, unsure if you hurt him or he is just uncomfortable. It had been years since he had lost his eye, but it still caused him some discomfort.

“Are you alright?” You asked. 

He blinks, eye flickering towards you. He watches you, no doubt waiting for some sign of disgust or repulsion. But you give him none; you never have. In your eyes, he was perfection. You do your best to look at him with all of the genuine concern and admiration that you can muster.

“I-,” his voice cracked. He blushed and quickly cleared his throat. 

“I’m fine.” He answered, more assuredly this time.

You nod, leaning over his shoulder to carefully place the eyepatch on the table. Your finger moved back to his hair, gently tugging on the tie that held his hair away from his face. Thankfully, it slips off with ease. His hair falls forward, curtaining around his face. 

You gather the hair off his neck, drawing it onto his back. A soft sigh escapes him as your fingers graze against the sensitive skin of his neck.

You reach over his shoulder again, picking up the brush you had been using moments ago. His single eye falls closed as the brush touches his head. You go slowly, trying to be careful of any knots and tangles, though there are none. The brush skims through his silver tresses with ease. You find yourself growing envious, thinking of all the times you and your handmaids have had to wrestle with your hair. 

His hair shines like beaten silver under the candlelight. The sight is almost hypnotic. You continue with your work, letting the brush run through his silver strands again and again. Little by little, his facade crumbles, and his body relaxes under your touch. After a while, you put the brush back on the table. 

You massage his scalp with your fingertips. Aemond’s head is tilted back just a bit, and a soft hum echoes from his throat. The sound reminds you of a cat purring. You smile, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Carefully, you remove your fingers from his hair before brushing through it one more time.

“Would you like me to braid it?” You ask.

“Yes, please,” he answers.

You nod and get to work. You don’t do anything too extravagant, just a simple three-strand braid. Once you are finished, you lean down and press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

“All done,” you smile.

“Thank you,” he replies, sleepily.

You expect him to get you and leave, but he doesn’t. Instead, he spins around on the bench. His large hands gently take hold of your hips, pulling you a bit closer.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly that you almost missed it.

“For what, my love?” You ask, gently caressing the side of his face with your fingertips.

“For this ... distance between us.”

“Oh,” you hum. “It’s fine. I’m sure you have your reasons.”

“That’s not an excuse,” he mumbles. “I have been-”

You shush him and place a gentle kiss on his scarred brow. “All is forgiven.”

His lips part as he prepares to argue, but he doesn’t. He closed them and nodded, silently thanking you for your forgiveness. Silence takes over the room again, but it’s more comfortable this time. Aemond rubs circles on your hips, through your thin nightdress, with his thumbs.

“Perhaps I shall rest here tonight?” He suggests, avoiding your gaze.

“I would like that,” you smile.

Aemond stands, and you help him undress before the two of you make your way back to your shared bed. Your husband climbs into the bed after you, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your back is pressed against his bare chest, and almost immediately, you can feel your mind at ease.

“I love you,” he whispers against your hair.

You try to say it back but cannot, as sleep pulls you away from the waking world. You squeeze his hand in yours and hope he understands.

[diejager]

Requests are open? 👀♡ (Feel free to ignore (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠))

How would Perv!Stepbrother!König react to his younger stepsister getting into a relationship? He'd warned you about how sick and depraved some men can be, hoping that you'd keep yourself for him, a selfish and entitled decision he'd made.

König has known you for so long and you're all he craves, what he yearns for. You're the highlight of his day, what he fantasises about. He looks forward to coming home after a month long deployment, being enveloped by his beloved stepsister, to rut his growing bulge against your clothed cunt sneakily and quietly while you run your fingers through his tangled, knotted hair.

Do you think he purposely neglects himself, hoping that you'll see the effect your new relationship has on him? Does he create fake conversations and screenshots of your significant other cheating on you? Does he attempt to manipulate and coerce you into getting him off? He'll plead with you with his bottom lip quivering, forcing tears to stream his flushed cheeks, begging for a quick and sloppy blowjob. You already know that König is a social reject, that it's more than likely he'll never get into a lasting relationship with someone that actually cares for him. He needs something more than his own calloused and rough fist to get himself off, little mouse.

Perhaps he'll secretly record you as you suck him off, with those pretty soft lips wrapped tightly around his meaty shaft and your soft fingers fondling his heavy balls. It hurts him to do this, Mauschen. He warned you, and you should've known better than to get with that deranged, selfish asshole. He'll use these videos against you, blackmailing you into pleasuring him while being in a relationship with another man. He feels sick, but he knows what's best for you, Liebling.

I Know Best

Dark!Stepbro!König x stepsis!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, manipulation/coercion, blowjob, loser!König, non-con filming, implied cheating, faking proof, dacryphilia, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1k

“How do you know he’s bad for me?!” you screamed back, eyes glazed with tears, slightly red and swollen. Both you and him have been going on and on about the same subject over the past week —since he discovered from his friend that you started dating a boy he didn’t know.

“I am your brother, Mäuschen.”

He was your brother. Well, stepbrother, to be precise, your father(he found him a nice man, fair and caring) had married his soft mother, and had given him a miracle in the form of you : his precious and innocent, little sister that he’d vowed to protect and cherish in all manners of way. in both reality and his filthy fantasy.

“But you don’t even know him!” you were always so very stubborn about having your way, something he loved and hated about you.

“I don’t have to to know what a boy thinks, " he had no reason to raise his voice to you like you were doing, he was your older brother, the responsible one, “I’m trying to protect you-”

He couldn’t finish his sentence before you stormed off, cheeks puffed and lips pouty. He watched you stomp up the stairs and lock yourself in your room with a loud slam. König sighed into his palms, running his fingers through his hair, feeling exasperated with you and your stubborn naivety about the world. You were just as hard-headed as he was, so he couldn’t blame you completely. After all, you’d learned it from him.

But all he wanted was to protect you, the world was harsh, men and women cruel in their vain ways and selfish intent, and boys were the wort, their simple-minded thinking and mean intent would hurt you. Your generosity and affection would come back and bite you in the ass, break your big heart and shatter it in thousands of pieces. This boy you decided to date would leave him to pick up the pieces of your heart, to cradle it in his big palm and heal your aches.

König was your older brother, that’s why he knew best. He knew that, it was written all over him, but you seemed to be oblivious to it. He’ll just have to show you that all you need was him.

It wasn’t his fault that you were choking on his cock, nose buried in his musky pubes. He stank of days old sweat and oil and his skin and pubes crusty with old cum from when he jerked himself to completion in his room, watching pornstars that looked similar to you. It wasn’t his fault that he was in such a state of disarray, dirty and broken. It was all yours and he told you as much as your head bobbed between his thighs, head forced down by a hard grip, his fingers curled up at the roots of your hair.

Your neglect and distancing had drove him to depression, your forgetfulness of his presence in your life left him scrambling for any crumbs of affection you still had left —the ones you didn’t offer the boy. It was as if you’d forgotten he existed, forgotten he slept right across from you, forgotten you showered in the same bathroom and forgotten you ate ate the same table. You had forgotten him. And it hurt him so much.

It drove him into a deep depression, a dark cloud invading his mind and hazing up everything: from his day to day life to his hobbies and passion. all he could do without feeling his heart break was jerk off at the thought of you in his sheets, back arched and squiring under him, crying out his name and cumming around his cock. It was all he’d ever wanted since he first met you, the little teenager who hid behind her father despite being just a few years younger than him.

“I’m sorry, Mäuschen,” he moaned, hips rutting upwards and deeper in your throat, “but I warned you, didn’t I? I told you he wasn’t good for you.”

You gagged, throat clenching around him so tightly as you sputtered, adorable mewls and whines vibrating his throbbing girth. You looked so pretty like this, a sight he only dreamed of seeing, on your knees and crying around his cock. At first, he doubted you could take all of him, but you’d surprised him, watching his cock sink inch by inch in your warm and wet mouth, bulging the lining of your tight throat. He apologised for being so harsh, but he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting into you every time you tried to talk, your every word making him shudder and pulse.

It didn’t help that you were so, so very adorable with red and swollen eyes, mascara staining your cheeks. It made his harder than any fantasy he ever came up with in his deranged mind, it brought him closer to the edge over and over without much effort, and he had to stop himself less he wanted to cum within the first seconds. The best thing was that he was the one who made you cry, his words and evidence rather than the boy. Well, he played a small part, but it was all him!

The pictures and the video evidence that he showed you from his computer, the pixelated colours that made up people and plants and building. He had shown you “proof” of your boyfriend’s betrayal, pictures of him kissing a mystery woman, his tongue down her throat and his hands groping her like he wasn’t a taken man. König knew it would drive the nail into the coffin of your relationship, you had crumbled in his arms, clinging to him in tearful apologies for not believing him and pushing him away. He held you and comforted you, promising that he wouldn’t do that to you, that he was loyal to you, but you didn’t know that he was somewhat proficient in photoshop and video editing, or that he had friends in the field. That was all right to him, what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.

“I know. I know,” he cooed, his tone harsh despite his voice cracking and depraved appearance, “I love you. Do you love me?”

You nodded, cheek hollowing and eagerly sucking him off, eyes rolling back. And he nearly came right then and there. Good thing he had cameras set all around his room, one in each corner and a big camcorder in the hand that wasn’t busy pushing you down his length.

taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[sonotpattismith]

My Lost, Fearless Leader.

(Yuta Okkotsu x Reader)

As the men masqueraded, I hoped you’d return with your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’d learned, because love’s never lost once perspective is earned.

word count: 9k

warnings: angst, me never making it easy for poor Yuta

a/n: inspired by Peter by Taylor Swift. Lowkey a self-insert as I too am a therapist, tee hee. I hope y’all enjoy it, I absolutely love writing for Yuta even though I make him suffer every time 🥹🫶🏻

masterlist.

Dear Okkotsu,

I know you only landed last week, but you left me with so many questions when you said goodbye. At the risk of sounding too forward, I thought for a moment that you would kiss me before you left. You had a look in your eye, one I’d never seen before, and I even thought I saw you square your shoulders like you were about to charge into battle.

Inumaki offered to give me your number when I asked about you, but I feared too quick of a response if I were to text you. After all, I love to torture myself. Somehow a letter felt safer, more disconnected. Still, I hope you have the time to write back to me while you’re out there growing as you so desperately wanted to.

You still have me in your corner here in Tokyo.

With kind regards,

L/N.

Dear L/N,

I hope this letter gets to you soon, though I know it has some way to go— I don’t want to leave you waiting again. I wondered if I should just text you, but you’re right, maybe this is best for wimps like me who were too scared to kiss the girl they like before traveling oceans away. There’s more courage in me hiding behind a pen than I ever had standing in front of you.

No matter how badly I wanted to show you how I felt, I didn’t feel worthy enough when I looked at that scar on your face— one I should have been able to prevent. There’s so much for me to learn about this world, and Gojo-Sensei says Kenya is where I need to be. I trust him implicitly, and I only hope here I’ll be able to grow into someone worthy of coming back to all of you at Jujutsu High. Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself, but I hope to become someone worthy enough to indulge myself in you as well.

I hope you can find it in you to wait for me all the way in your corner of Tokyo.

Respectfully,

Okkotsu.

Dear Okkotsu,

You were right, your letter did travel far, and after two weeks, I feared I may not ever hear back from you.

What happened with Geto Suguru wasn’t your fault, and, if I remember correctly, you were the one that saved all of us that night. It breaks my heart that you feel you don’t have a place here with us. I never thought you needed to prove yourself, and if that’s the only reason you went thousands of miles away— then you should board the next flight back over.

If I had known it was the scar on my face that stopped you, I would have covered it just for you. No one else around here is willing to take the blame for me when I break one of Maki’s spears— that alone should earn you a spot right beside me over here. Speaking of, I hope the bump on your forehead has gone down.

Luckily for the both of us, patience is my best virtue, but I do hope you don’t make me wait terribly long. You don’t have to be the strongest.

Holding my breath,

Y/N.

Dear L/N,

Maybe eventually I’ll work up the courage to call you, but our weeks of waiting in between will just have to do for now.

I think you’re beautiful— regardless of your scar, and I hope I didn’t send the wrong message when I said it’s what stopped me. I only meant that it reminded me of the kind of guy that deserves your attention, one that has brought about more good than he has bad in his life.

I’ve hurt so many people, and it wouldn’t be right of me not to try to make up for the wrongs I’ve caused. It’s only been a month, but Miguel has taught me so much, and I’ve seen so many wonderful things. I’m not sure if you’re interested, but I’m sending you some pictures of all my favorite parts.

I hope Maki has been merciful to you, and, yes, my bump is gone. Still, the little scar there reminds me of you each time I see it. So, I suppose I should thank her.

We’ve been talking so much about me, but I want to hear how you’re doing back in your corner of the world. How have your classes been going? I almost miss hearing everyone arguing with Gojo-Sensei every morning.

I don’t want to be the strongest, but I want to be strong enough to be worthy of you. The last thing I want is to keep you waiting too long, but however long it takes for me to be able to make a mark on those who have shown such faith in me.

Thinking of you,

Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

Surely that’s not you in that picture beside the giraffe? It’s only been two months— what are they feeding you over there? I had to do a triple take. You look well, Okkotsu.

I’m starting to wonder if it’s really you behind that ink. You were never so bold when you were here. Do you have a ghostwriter? I have my doubts, but I still hope all those thoughtful words really are coming from you.

I can see how hard you’ve been working, and I hope you’re beginning to find in yourself the pride I and all us here at home have always had in you. I don’t think anyone blames you for the unfairness that’s clung to you thus far, and no one expects you to make up for any of it— at least I know I don’t. If you really insist on doing so though, maybe you can start by giving me a call every once and a while? I’m sure you're busy, but I’d love to hear your voice again.

Classes have been going well. We’re almost going into our second year now, and everyone still talks so fondly of you. We wish you were here to start the year with us. I certainly miss having someone who was equally as clueless when it came to this world— it felt like you were the last shred of normalcy I was hanging onto. It’s okay though, I suppose I have some growing to do too.

Also, you don’t need to be so formal with me, I think you’ve earned the first name basis. Unless of course, you need to build up the courage for that, too.

I only felt it was fair to send some pictures of all of us here as well— though they’re nowhere near as badass as your safari photos. Please keep sending them— I’ll cherish the ones I have here for now though.

Still waiting for you,

Y/N.

Three months following Yuta’s departure from Tokyo, you first received an actual call from him. You had just turned in for the night, muscles aching from the mission you and Maki had just returned from only an hour or two prior. Truthfully, you were having a difficult time with the added responsibility that was accompanying your new year at Jujutsu High.

Last year, at the very least, you had Yuta there who seemed on a fairly level playing field with you. Still, he held more of a determination to move forward in his life as a sorcerer than you did. After your encounter with Geto Suguru that had left you partially blinded in your right eye, it was difficult for you to find that gusto you had when you first arrived.

The deep lulls of slumber had just begun to penetrate your exhausted mind, and you could swear a more pleasant dream was just beyond your reach. When your phone began vibrating underneath your still cool pillow, your brows furrowed at the intrusion. The sound caused an electric-like jolt in your body that had you shooting up as if someone had just pulled the fire alarm. Calming your racing heart, you reached down to snatch the device up. Your eyes squinted to adjust to the blue light emitting from the screen, and you saw a number you didn’t recognize. Under the caller location though, it indicated that it was coming from Kenya.

Sitting up with a gasp, you gaped down at the device, uncertain excitement bubbling in your stomach and up your chest. Without a second thought, you swiped to answer the call. Amidst your anticipation of who you thought might be on the other line, you forgot to greet the caller.

“Um… uh- hello?”

A smile spread across your cheeks at the sound of his timid voice.

“A call from Kenya,” You began teasingly, your voice still hoarse from sleep. “I wonder who it could be.”

There was an abrupt shuffling on the other line, and you could already picture him pacing around whatever space he was currently occupying.

“You got me!” Yuta quipped nervously, quickly checking the time on his phone upon hearing the sleepy tone that laced your voice. It wasn’t too late over in Tokyo, and he figured if he didn’t call you now while he still had the nerve to do it, he never would. Okkotsu had determined during his time in Kenya that his confidence somehow peaked right after a successful mission. Naturally, this was when he calculated it would be the best time to call you with the lowest possibility of making a stuttering fool of himself. “Di-Did I wake you? I can call back another-”

“After you took three months to gather all that courage up?” You joked with a fond smile, reaching down to toy with the corner of your pillow. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see you, you shook your head. “I think I can stay up for a few minutes.”

He was grateful, so eternally grateful that you couldn’t see the way the blood rushed up his neck and into his face. Pressing a cool hand against his cheek as if it would make the heat die down, he forced himself to sit on the edge of his bed, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It had been too long already since he last spoke, and the silence on the call was becoming overbearing as he thought of anything to say.

“You there, Yuta?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m, uh-- still here.” The boy chuckled pathetically, pounding his balled up fist against his thigh, willing himself to quit being such a loser. Shooting up to begin his short trek around his room once again, he took a deep breath. “I-I wanted to thank you. You know, for writing to me the past few months. I think they’ve been kind of motivating me, actually.”

“Yeah?” You smiled, lying back down on your pillow to stare stupidly up at the ceiling of your dorm. In hearing that shy voice that you had been missing for so long, you had forgotten about the aching, abused muscles that had been assaulting you just minutes prior. In its place was the rushing endorphins of your child-like crush on the boy on the other line. “So, when you come back strong enough to beat Sensei’s ass, I can take partial credit, right?”

His soft laugh filled your once silent room, inciting the overwhelming butterflies in your stomach to erupt in a fluttering haze.

“It’ll all be you.” Yuta joked halfheartedly, rubbing the back of his neck in relief that he’d gotten past the awkward silence unscathed. He flopped back down onto his bed and looked out the window at the slowly setting sun. “Uh… speaking of Sensei, how is everything over there? The exchange event is coming up soon, right?”

This made your smile slowly wane.

“Yeah, it’s next month. There was some drama with the first years, but everyone else seems to be pretty excited.”

“Everyone else? It sounds like you’re not including yourself in there.”

You sighed gently. Yuta was always so determined about growing as a sorcerer, so these types of events were always right up his alley. Not to mention the manner in which he absolutely wiped out the sister school at last year’s event. It actually caused a bit of second-hand embarrassment to watch the whole ordeal play out— no matter how quickly it concluded. After the atrocities of the past few months though, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be excited for the goodwill event.

It wasn’t that long ago that you watched all your friends meet near death at the hands of Suguru Geto, and you weren’t too far behind. They had all seemingly moved on from it all so fast— all of them except for Yuta Okkotsu. It seemed that all it had done was given him more ammunition to spark his journey of self discovery. You wished it had had the same effect on you. In truth though, all it sparked was a fear that your life, along with your friends, was constantly at the mercy of a crueler fate than most your age would be subjected to.

It felt wrong. Yuta shouldn’t have felt the need to bear the weight of you and your friends’ injuries all on his own. He shouldn’t have needed to go off to search for some unknown answer to all the insecurities his grueling life had thrust upon him. Still, it was so important to him. You could see the way it gave him purpose, a will to keep going despite all that he’d been through. It wasn’t his fault, but you always wished you could have found that same purpose within slaying curses and putting your life on the line.

A soft call of your name on the other line pulled you from your self-depricating thoughts. Shaking your head, you attempted to lighten the mood.

“Last name again? So formal. I thought we were past that, Okkotsu.”

“Oh-- right, sorry.” He stammered out before trying your first name out on his lips. It was delicate in the way it rolled off his tongue, sending warmth straight through your chest. Recalling your sudden silence once his nerves subsided, his lips pulled pensively into a thin line. “Um, have you been doing okay? You know, since…”

Brows rising just a hair, you were shocked at how easily he read through your sudden change in tone. Your lip quivered into a slight frown. A deep breath was suddenly pushing down that biting urge you had to tear up.

“Yeah, I’ve been okay. Just… wish you were still here is all.” You confessed into the dark, lonely dorm room. “I think you were the only one who understood how overwhelming this all was.”

Yuta felt his chest constrict at your earnest confession. Part of him felt guilty for not being there, but he knew deep down that he was doing the right thing by building himself up before he allowed himself to come back— especially to you. Still, the boy knew where you were coming from. It wasn’t easy being the newcomer in a world where your peers had a fifteen year head start on.

The two of you understood each other—empathized with one another. You both strived to make sure the other was doing okay; whether that be sneaking out late at night to practice with one another in hopes you both wouldn’t make fools of yourselves in training the next day, or just being someone that the other could glance knowingly at when one of your classmates mentioned something it seemed that everyone else was privy to, except you two.

“I’m getting stronger everyday.” Yuta offered earnestly, a soft, empathetic smile playing on his lips— the kind you could just hear through his gentle tone. “And I know you are too. We’re gonna kick some major butt one day, y’know?”

The boy was relieved when your glittering laugh filled his speakers, and he found himself laughing along with you. A comfortable silence blanketed over you two, and for a moment it felt as though you were laying right beside him, your gentle breaths lighting a fire within his soul. The courage that he thought he had lost upon hearing your voice for the first time in months was slowly flooding back to him, and he began pensively rolling his bottom lip between his fingers.

“Hey,” Okkotsu called out feebly, resting his hand down on his chest and feeling his heart pounding against his fingers. Reaching down to your discarded letter beside him, he picked up the picture you’d sent along with it. It was of all the second years, and he wondered with a smile if you had Gojo-Sensei take it for you all, and, if so, how much he complained about not being included.

You stood in the middle of Inumaki and Maki, Panda standing proudly and towering behind you. His thumb reached out to graze softly over your face. In the photo, one of your hands was teasingly covering your right eye, and he blushed as he remembered your earlier conversation about that scar. You hummed in acknowledgment on the other line. “Did you mean it? You know… when you said you’d wait for me?”

“Did you mean it when you said you were gonna come back for me?” You countered quickly.

Yuta exhaled nervously, the churning in his chest making him feel as though he might pass out. Staring back at your smiling face in the photo, he nodded breathlessly.

“Of course, I meant it. I meant every word.”

“Then so did I.”

Yuta Okkotsu’s reassuring promise helped ground you in your studies of jujutsu for a while longer, but you could still feel the aching insistence in the back of your mind that told you this wasn’t where you were meant to be. Your friendship with the sorcerer continued to grow even over the thousands of miles that separated you.

He’d call you whenever he had the chance to, and you’d text him about updates on what all his friends had been up to without him. Although both Inumaki and Maki kept up with him regularly, he allowed you to retell stories he’d more often than not already heard from them.

He could tell that you were struggling to find and hold your place as a sorcerer. You always listened enthusiastically when he’d tell you about the new techniques he was learning or the missions he’d been sent on, nodding along on the other line and hanging onto every word he said. Still, when he’d await to hear the progress of your training or how your latest mission had gone, you didn’t have the same enthusiasm in your tone.

It had been almost a year since he’d been gone. The two of you had never implicitly discussed the nature of your relationship, but your lingering promise to each other seemed to be enough to keep your hearts locked safely away for the other’s return. As the months dragged on though, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was worth staying in the world of jujutsu that seemed to so expertly traumatize you and your peers.

You insisted on video calling him for once, eager to once again put a face to the voice that had been filling your every night for the past few months. Maybe, you thought to yourself, if you saw those warm, inviting eyes again paired with that timid smile, you’d find it in you to hold out just a bit longer.

“Ca-Can you see me?” Yuta’s ever anxious voice filled your quiet room once again. The palm of his hand briefly covered the camera before it was moved away, and it appeared as though he had propped you up on a dresser of some sort. He stepped back, hunching over so his face was still in the frame, staring hesitantly into the screen.

A brief exhale of disbelief left you at the sight of him. He had changed so much over the past year; from the inches he’d sprouted up, to the new broadness of his lean shoulders, right down to his more maturely parted hair as it swayed in his face.

His features appeared sharper than when you’d last seen him, a testament to how much he’d grown physically as well as mentally. The dark circles you remember being everpresent under his long, midnight-blue eyes seemed even more pronounced now, and you wondered just how hard this Miguel character had been working him. Despite his apparent lack of sleep though, he grinned cheerfully upon seeing your face.

Forgoing your previous concern, an ecstatic smile of your own lit up your face as you took him in. You had always thought he had a sort of innocent, gentle cuteness to him, but time and knowledge seemed to have morphed those characteristics into the sharp, hauntingly striking ghost of the boy you once knew presented before you. For the first time since knowing him, you thought you felt more nervous than he did at the moment.

“Wow! You look--” He paused, a slight flush filling his face, and suddenly he was that timid boy again, staring down at you with the false promise of a kiss. Your heart melted at the sight. Yuta was still looking nervously back at you, mouth hanging open as if his mind was running faster than his tongue could process. You raised your brows expectantly at him, hiding your amused smile. “Uh—pretty! You— you look really pretty.”

A soft blush fell across your cheeks.

“Thanks, Yuta.” You laughed softly, eyes fluttering across his face admiringly. “You look like you’ve… grown.”

“Oh, me?” He laughed skittishly, hand coming up to rustle through his jet black locks. His brows were furrowed slightly as he looked down at his own appearance as if he was only just now noticing the growth spurt he’d had in the past year. “Yeah! I guess—”

“Is that blood on your shirt?” You suddenly noticed, leaning forward so your squinting eyes could get a better look at the dark matter that clung to his white top. His eyes shot up to meet yours, and in an instant, his fumbling hands were working to unbutton his uniform shirt. It was no use though, the white t-shirt underneath was also stained through.

“Sorry, I just got back from a mission.” He admitted dejectedly, grabbing the phone and sitting on the floor, resting his back against the bed behind him. “I would’ve showered, but I didn’t want to keep you up too late.”

You sat back against your headboard tentatively. It was incredible to you how he was never phased by the violence and bloodshed that shrouded this lifestyle. There were so many nights that you lay awake, eyes unblinking as you tried to forget the horrors you’d witnessed just long enough to get some sleep.

“How do you do it, Yu?” You asked timidly.

Yuta took in the way your wide eyes glimmered with the threat of unspilled tears. There it was again— that underlying fear in your tone and demeanor that told him that something wasn’t quite right, and it hadn’t been right since you came so close to death.

“What do you mean, love?” He wasn’t sure where that term of endearment came from, maybe from the concern that had been pooling in him for months and had now suddenly burst upon seeing that broken look in your eyes. Either way, it was too late to take it back now.

“Act like everything’s normal when you come home covered in blood and guts and watch people die— watch your friends—”

“I’m doing this for my friends.” His response had a defensive edge to it, but his wide eyes were gentle, taking in your vulnerable state carefully. “And for the people I’ve had to watch die. Bad things will happen whether I’m a part of them or not. How can I sit back and do nothing when that’s all I’ve done my entire life?”

You suddenly felt small in your corner of the world. He was selfless, fearless, purposeful in his mission as a sorcerer, and you couldn’t fault him for it. Moreso, you faulted yourself for lacking that same drive.

“I just– sometimes I feel like this isn’t for me. I’m not like you, Yuta. I don’t think I’m strong enough for this. I’m not strong enough for this.”

Yuta continued to insist upon believing in your growth, just as you had believed in his. His persistence in your strength of character only served to break your heart more. You knew the deeper his faith in you ran, the more crushing his disappointment would be when you inevitably let him down.

In the weeks following your dismayed conversation with him, you weren’t answering his calls as often, afraid he would be on the other line hoping to hear of your growth and the things you’d overcome— but you had none to show for. You usually texted him with false excuses that you were on a mission, or that you were simply too tired to talk that night. No matter how hard you tried to pride yourself in your little victories, your faith in your abilities as a sorcerer was waning quickly before your eyes.

He had always said that he was the one undeserving of his place in this world— of his place beside you. The stronger he grew though, the more you only noticed the opposite.

It was a month after your phone call that you received a small package from Kenya, recognizing the stamp immediately as one of the various animal themed ones Yuta seemed to keep stockpiled just for you. Chewing at your bottom lip, a sense of guilt washed over you, knowing you hadn’t been keeping up with him as much as you once did. Despite this, he continued to try, desperate to get through to you somehow before you slipped from between his fingers all together.

Ripping open the orange, padded envelope, you overturned the contents onto your bed. The wooden beads of a bracelet clacked softly against one another as they fell upon the comforter, a letter landing gently atop it. You ran your fingers along the thin bracelet, thinking maybe if you concentrated long enough, you’d be able to feel the warmth of his fingers lingering from when he’d carefully placed it into the envelope for you. You picked up the accompanying letter.

Dear Y/N,

It seems like they’ve been keeping you really busy over there in your corner of the world! I had so much I wanted to tell you, but I thought maybe it’d be best to put it all into a letter so you could read it at a time that’s best for you.

Gojo-Sensei says that I’ll probably be coming back soon, maybe in the next couple of months even. If all goes well, I hope to be joining everyone for our final year. It’d be nice to all be together again. It’d be nice to actually see you again.

You don’t have to tell me everything, but I know you’ve been going through a hard time recently, and I’m sorry I’m not there to help you. You were wrong the other night on the phone— you are stronger than you think. This life isn’t easy, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not fit for it just because it hurts you right now.

When I felt I had no strength left in me to keep going, it was you who lent me some of yours until I could stand again. I’m sending it back to you now, so please use it to keep moving forward until I can lend you some of mine. Please, keep waiting for me.

The beads on the bracelet I sent you represent all the things I wish for you. The red represent bravery and strength, the kind I know you have in you still. Until you find them though, let these be a reminder. The yellow are for growth, and until you can see it coming your way, let these motivate you.

I got one just like it for myself, so I can be reminded everyday of the things I love about you. I’ll keep it on me always, and I hope as you’re waiting that you’ll do the same.

Still yours,

Yuta.

Tears were streaming freely down your cheeks and staining the precious letter before you. With wobbling lips, you bit back a quiet sob as you carefully slipped the thin bracelet onto your wrist. Strength. Bravery. Growth. They were all pillars that seemed so far away from you, but Yuta was convinced you held them just within your grasp. If anything, the beads would serve as a reminder that someone important was counting on you, and you’d rather suffer the uphill battle than disappoint him.

The next morning, you woke early to speak with Gojo. He was lounging lazily in his large, plush chair, laptop sat carelessly on his lap when you came in. As if expecting you all along, he looked up from his bored typing to offer a sly smile— the type that told you he was always steps ahead of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Gojo greeted, closing his laptop and setting it haphazardly on his desk. Leaning back, he laced his fingers casually in his lap, jutting his chin toward the seat in front of him.

Hesitantly, you sat down. Your posture was rigid as you stared back at his half-covered face. Although your sensei had never given you a reason to fear him, you couldn’t help but feel anxious at the thought of how he might react to your request.

“I… I don’t know how to say this.”

He stayed silent, allowing you to collect your thoughts. The small smile tugging at his lips said he already knew what was plaguing your mind. Fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist, you were reminded of the importance that you stand your ground here.

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for being a sorcerer.” It was out there, and it hung heavily in the air around you. Looking down at your twiddling fingers, you felt that familiar lump building in your throat. Your sensei was silent before you. Glancing up at him through tear soaked eyes, you shrugged your shoulders in defeat. “I’m not like the others. I can’t bounce back like they do. It scares me; the death, the fighting, the loss— it terrifies me, Gojo. I can’t do it anymore. I-I just—”

“You’ve been struggling for a while now, haven’t you?” It was more of a statement than a question— an observation he’d been holding onto for some time. The older man wasn’t oblivious, he could see when his students were beginning to slip away; physically and mentally.

“How did you know?” You briefly wondered if Yuta had mentioned something to him during their regular check in calls, but you doubted it.

Standing abruptly from his chair, he strolled leisurely around the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“You remind me of someone, is all.” Gojo’s cryptic message left more questions than answers. Though you had grown used to his dodgy answers and coded messages, now was really not the time. Before you could express your annoyance, he continued. “You’re not stuck, you know.”

Your mouth hung open as you stared at him in disbelief. Standing up to face him as he stared out the window, your mind was racing at the possibilities.

“You mean— I could leave? Just like that?”

“Just like that. I’d talk to the higher ups today for you if that’s really what you want.” Still, the edge in his tone indicated that he wasn’t about to let you off that easily. As if sensing your apprehension, he tilted his head playfully toward you, a fond smile on his face. “I’ve seen what this gig can do to people. I don’t need to see you fall victim to it too.”

“I mean— I…” You were stumbling over your words. For the past few years, you were sure that your future was set for you— one you were apprehensive about living, but one that was secure nonetheless. Where would you go from here?

Gojo hummed pensively— invitingly. God, how you wished he would just spit out what he clearly wanted so desperately to say. Of course, he always wanted his students to come to their own conclusions, set their own fates.

“The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.” The sensei announced dramatically, taking another lap around the room. You shivered at the mention of that night. He leaned toward you with a raised brow. “That’s when this all started, am I right? You almost died, if I remember correctly.”

“I would have if it hadn’t been for—”

“Yuta Okkotsu.” He cut you off, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, and for a moment you thought you saw his head tilt down as if to look at the bracelet you were currently rolling between your fingers. Nodding softly, he continued. “Still, you cut it pretty close. Must have been traumatizing. Partially lost your sight, almost lost your friends, your life.”

You nodded silently, unsure of where he was going with this long winded rant. Of course, him giving you a simple out was just too easy for Gojo-Sensei’s ‘everything is a life lesson’ style of teaching.

“Tell you what, why don’t I set up a meeting for you to meet with a counselor? Someone who specializes in all our creepy-crawly problems?”

“Like… like therapy?” You questioned with furrowed brows. A therapist for sorcerers? You didn’t even know such a thing existed. Still, the prospect sparked a certain hope in your chest, one that the six eyes saw instantly. He didn’t bother to conceal his victorious smile.

“Yup. Nice, comfy couch and everything.” He advertised as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. His long fingers began typing purposefully against the screen before he looked up at you again. “Of course, she’s kind of running a one-man show, so her schedule is pretty tight. I can pull a few strings for you though.” His words rang in your mind with a faint echo. That suggestive, underlying tone in his voice, it was beginning to seep through, and your gut was telling you his suggestion was a lot more calculated than you would ever give him credit for. “That kind of work is in high demand, you know— what with all the new curses popping up since Itadori came along.”

Gojo was continuing to drop hints, but you had already heard him loud and clear. This was something he thought you could do— somewhere he knew you would fit within this hectic world. As a teacher, it was his job to train the up and coming sorcerers for the perils that lay ahead of them. In the same prospect though, he had also become incredibly adept at discovering their potential and nudging them toward it— even if it wasn’t as gently as he thought.

The following week you met with the therapist Gojo had supposedly pulled so many strings to get you in to see. She had a small office just minutes away from the school, and you wondered why she wasn’t on campus. She hadn’t suggested it to you first, though she was well aware of what Gojo was trying to do when he set up this meeting.

So, amidst your explanation of everything you had been experiencing since that night, you dropped in questions. How did she know this was the right path for her— how closely did she work with Jujutsu High— how did she get where she was?

By the gentle and encouraging manner in which she answered all of your questions, you had a gut feeling once again that Gojo had already been three steps ahead of you. You were set to transfer out of Jujutsu High the following week.

Your sensei funded your education through an outside university, who’s higher ups had connections with the school. Kaori, the god-sent sorcerer counselor who’d seemingly fallen from the heavens right when you needed her, was more than happy to take you under her wing as well. In truth, she was relieved to have some help around the office given the influx of referrals she’d been receiving recently.

Everything had been falling into place, yet there was still one last loose end you had yet to tie up from your life as a sorcerer. You looked down at the box of letters you’d kept over the past year or so from Yuta.

Following his last letter, and how determined he seemed to be that you would make it as a sorcerer— you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you had given up. After everything he’d done to grow himself into the man he was now, a fearless and loyal sword to his friends and the innocent— and you had given up. In the end, despite his insistence that it was him not worthy enough to stick around, you realized it had been you all along.

You weren’t worthy of Yuta Okkotsu.

Your trembling finger hovered over his contact, but you couldn’t do it. Clicking your phone off, you stared up at the ceiling of your now empty dorm room and allowed the hot tears to burn your cheeks, dripping down your neck and into the hem of your shirt. He was still finishing up his training, growing into a man he could be proud of, experiencing the things that made him feel alive. It would be selfish of you to drop this on him now.

Setting down the box on your desk, you pulled out a spare sheet of paper and sat down to draft your last prose to Yuta Okkotsu.

Dear Yuta,

By the time you’re reading this, I’m sure you will have already heard about my departure from Jujutsu High. I wanted to call you and tell you everything that’s been on my mind, to give you a proper goodbye, but I didn’t want to interrupt your progress overseas.

I wanted to thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me over the years. I’ll cherish each bit of it as long as I live. You kept me holding on through my lowest points, even if it wasn’t the life of sorcery that I was holding onto.

I know I’m cowardly, but I just couldn’t look you in the eyes and tell you that I had given up. You’ve worked so hard and sacrificed so much to hold your place here, and I suppose a part of me feels foolish for giving mine up so easily.

Your passion for undoing the wrongs in this world is so beautiful, and although I couldn’t share it with you, it only ever made me love you more. Please never take it for granted. Continue to fight to hold your place here, because you hold more power than you could ever come to know. I can feel it, even when you’re not here.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t wait for you.

Forever yours,

Y/N

When Yuta Okkotsu arrived back at Jujutsu High three months later, he had already been sitting on the news of your departure for two weeks. His friends thought it best to at least prepare him for when he returned, but he figured so much when you stopped responding to his calls and messages. No amount of preparation could have stopped the hole from opening up in his chest upon reading the letter you’d left in his dorm room. It sat neatly on his untouched pillow— a ghost that haunted him the second he stepped in.

He tried with fervor to be excited for his return, smiling along half heartedly when his friends shoved a party hat on his head and insisted upon celebrating all the birthdays they’d missed. Those haunting blue eyes only stared lifelessly at the cake before him, his soul still sat on the edge of his bed where he’d read your letter.

Forever yours.

Yuta wondered if those simple two words meant the door was open for him to swing in and come find you as he so ardently promised he would. Gojo-Sensei said you were happy though— working toward your place in the world. It was one he no longer felt he had a place in— not when his life consisted so wholly of the very things you were running from.

Months passed, and the both of you tried so desperately to move on. Despite being content in the roots your lives had sprouted, there was always a missing piece that stopped the both of you from blossoming. You always held your breath in hopes he’d come back to you like he said he would, and he always hoped you were still waiting for him despite his insistence that you were happier without him. The both of you were only kids when you’d carelessly thrown out such a vow, after all.

Gojo felt whole-heartedly confident in his whim to have Kaori train you. There was a spark in you, one that wanted to heal those that this world had so carelessly wounded, even if that meant you having to heal yourself first. In the end, it was the right decision, and he prided himself in the fact that there was a happy medium to keep your talents within the jujutsu world still while also fulfilling your purpose. There was a missing piece of the puzzle that lingered ever present though, and that was the infuriating case of you and Yuta Okkotsu.

It was getting depressing— watching the boy mope around pretending to not have the very obvious chip on his shoulder all the damn time. Your old sensei still kept up with you and your progress often, seeing as the school worked closely with Kaori to refer in need sorcerers on a regular basis.

Each time he’d pop in for a visit or called unexpectedly, you’d always ask how everyone back at the school was doing. Sure, you really did hope your old friends were doing okay, but you were really holding your breath for when he’d mention Yuta. Gojo always spoke of him so highly, and you couldn’t help but smile fondly each time, thinking of how proud you were at how much he’d accomplished— just as he said he would. Still, the six eyes never missed that morose glimmer in your eye as you’d nod along to his stories.

“Have you ever tried sleeping at night, or are those dark circles just a part of you now?”

Yuta was snapped from his stupor when his sensei dropped unceremoniously beside him as he looked on at his friends ahead of him. As if having just been reminded of his perpetual exhaustion, he reached up subconsciously to rub at those aforementioned dark eyes.

“Oh, haha,” Yuta’s halfhearted attempt at a laugh only served to drive Gojo’s purpose right home. “Yeah, guess my sleep schedule never really adjusted back to normal, huh?”

“You aren’t performing like you should be, Okkotsu.”

He gaped exasperatedly at his sensei, blinking a few times as if maybe he just hadn’t heard him correctly. Frankly, he had been kicking ass lately, and everyone around him knew it too. Still, if Gojo-Sensei was telling him he was falling behind, it was seemingly the only opinion that mattered. Even if it wore him down till only his skeleton remained, he would keep getting better until he could prove himself to the man who took a chance on him.

Already picking up on the look of determination on the boy’s face, Gojo put out a solemn ‘slow your roll’ hand in front of him. Sighing in amusement, the sensei thought the boy would crush a semi-truck between his hands if it’d make him grow— meant he could prove himself.

“Your mind isn’t here. Hasn’t been since you got back. I can tell, you know.”

Okkotsu’s shoulders slumped dejectedly. No matter how much he worked to train physically, to learn to control his cursed energy and techniques, there was always that one lingering barrier that seemed to keep him from reaching his potential. Of course, he knew he had been more distracted since your departure, but he figured— hoped— it would pass eventually. He thought maybe if he ignored it long enough, pushed down that frenzy to rip his hair out by the roots and bellow out every frustration he’d held in for allowing you to slip away, each day as the urge melted away into dreams of you at night that woke him with a crater in his chest— maybe eventually it would fade just as you did.

“Try to get some rest, clear your mind. Do what you gotta do.” Gojo emphasized, leaning down to tower over his apprehensive prodigy with a knowing smile. His covered eyes flicked down to where Yuta’s fingers were rolling the beads of his colorful bracelet pensively. He hummed in amusement. “You know, I know someone who has that same bracelet.”

His student perked up ever so subtly upon hearing this. The prying man quickly moved to grasp his wrist and inspect the bracelet closer. It made Yuta feel exposed, wanting to crawl under his covers and not come out again if it meant no one else would lay their eyes on the one connection he still had to you. Gulping thickly, he snatched his wrist back, covering the wooden jewelry protectively under his other hand.

“Oh, you know her, don’t you?” Satoru feigned remembrance, snapping his fingers dramatically. “She used to go here.”

The stunned boy stammered out your name in question. It still felt so natural, so effortless rolling off of his tongue despite the prolonged period that had passed since he’d uttered those syllables.

“Yeah! Saw it on her just last week.”

All the blood seemed to drain from Yuta Okkotsu’s face. His wide, haunting eyes suddenly transfixed hazily on the smiling man before him in a manner that would have been terrifying had it been directed at a stranger. You still wore the bracelet he got you? The prospect had his mind spinning, and his stomach churning anxiously. The poor guy looked as though he would short circuit at any moment; brows twitching into a deep furrow, the corners of his lips fluttering in uncertainty. He blinked a few times before looking up at his sensei with a new sense of determination clouding his eyes.

“Where did you say she went?”

Bingo!

The clock’s ticking mocked you menacing as you raced to finish your assessment notes within the hour. Kaori was always merciful with you, understanding that you were still learning and would likely take more time with things, but you couldn’t help but urge yourself to do better.

It had been almost a year that you had been studying while working alongside the counselor, and you had blossomed in a way you never thought would have been possible. Granted, you weren’t able to do any of what you had lovingly labeled as ‘the fun stuff’ yet, you had adjusted surprisingly well to the countless intake assessments and documentation your mentor had entrusted you with. Of course, it wasn’t the same as having a second counselor there with her, but anything helped ease the weight of her overwhelming caseload. She knew it was good experience for you too.

Despite her hectic schedule, Kaori still found time to meet with you often to check in regarding the struggles that brought you to her in the first place, insisting it would be a crucial step in your training as well. Slowly but surely, you were beginning to rebuild that confidence in yourself and your own purpose in this monstrous world. It felt cathartic, being a part of the process of healing for those torn down by the very things that hurt you so long ago as well. It was meaningful— fulfilling.

You wondered if this was how Yuta felt when he was out there, helping people as well, just in his own way. A sharp pang struck you each time your mind wandered too far though, and you were always quick to reel it back in.

Your bottom lip was caught ruthlessly between your teeth, and it seemed the clacking of your keyboard was fighting against the ticking of the clock for dominance. A small spark of defeat struck you as you heard the door of the office creak open. Looking up at the time, your brows furrowed in confusion. You were sure that you had already completed the last intake Kaori had scheduled for you today. Scrambling into the drawer beside you to pull out a new form, you hoped you would at least look somewhat prepared whenever the unexpected patient came to your desk.

“Hi, there!” You called out from your tucked away cubicle, fumbling to save the document you were working on. “I’m back here, you can come on in.”

Slow footsteps approached closer and closer before pausing in front of your desk. Pushing the hair from your eyes, you looked up with a warm, inviting smile.

Oh.

The smile on your face slowly faded as Yuta Okkotsu towered over your desk. It wasn’t the version of him you once knew; this one was taller, more refined, more calculated with the manner in which he held himself. His wide, midnight-blue eyes regarded you carefully, but his face revealed nothing. Your mouth opened and closed pathetically, your mind desperately trying to catch up with the way your day had suddenly progressed. Stepping forward, he calmly sank down into the chair in front of you, hands gripping the arms casually.

“Yu—”

“I heard you offer counseling for sorcerers, right?” He was suddenly smiling sweetly at you, but there was a controlled glint in his eyes— holding him back. Not allowing you to respond, he continued. “Well, I have some things to get off my chest, so it’s lucky I found you, huh?”

You sank back into your chair, allowing the papers in your hands to slip from your fingers and swoosh softly onto the desk. Nodding gently, you urged him to go on, anxiety balling up in the pit of your stomach. He launched off on a long-winded story, one you already knew like the back of your hand— you lived it, after all. Your already knowing the climax didn’t stop the furious blush that overtook you as he recalled the letter he’d found in his dorm upon his arrival back to Tokyo.

“She always had this sweet way of signing off all her letters to me.” Yuta recounted with a soft smile, eyes glimmering as they looked back at you. Yours, on the other hand, were holding back the dam of tears that had been building up for countless months. As the first tear slipped down your cheek, you saw his resolve start to crumble, gaze chasing the drop as it raced down your skin. His bottom lip trembled. “She signed that last one— she signed it off ‘forever yours’, but I never saw her again.”

“Yuta—”

“Why didn’t you just tell me you weren’t happy?” He finally snapped, his own tears swimming in his eyes. Bracing his hands on the desk, he leaned forward desperately. “I would’ve understood, I would’ve—”

“I tried! I tried to tell you, but you were so sure that I was going to get through it. How was I supposed to look you in the eyes after you gave up so much of your life to train to be better? How was I supposed to tell you I was giving up?”

“You promised me!” His cry rang out in the quiet office, shoving his chair back to stand over you once again. You heard Kaori’s office door open abruptly, likely startled by the perceived altercation. Despite his dominating presence and lingering stance, you couldn’t find it in you to be intimidated by him. You shook your head softly toward your mentor, letting her know you were fine. As the door hesitantly shut once again, Yuta was sinking closer to you despairingly. “I would’ve come back for you— I wouldn’t have cared where I had to look, okay? I wouldn’t have cared that you left everything— but you weren’t supposed to leave me.”

His wounded tone finally caught up to you, and you let your head fall down onto your crumpled hands as you cried. Yuta sighed softly, almost regretting his stinging confession. Quickly looping around the desk, he settled down on his knees in front of you and turned you to face him.

“I’m sorry, Yuta.” You cried, falling into him as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you from your chair. He was stronger than you last remembered him being, but his touch was just as delicate. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. We’re here now, right?” He assured gently, pulling you away from his chest so he could look at you with a smile, tears still clinging to his lashes. His cool hand ran down from your shoulder to your wrist, and he traced the bracelet that hadn’t come off your wrist since you received it. A soft flush covered his cheeks. “You kept it, huh?”

“You kept yours, too.” You laughed breathlessly, wiping at your cheeks with one hand and grasping his bracelet with the other.

“I told you, I always meant everything I said to you. I still do.” His words almost made you break down again, but you worried if you started boo-hoo crying again that Kaori might just burst through the door with more determination than she had last time.

So instead, you took a moment to glance over his matured face, shaking your head in amusement upon seeing those familiar dark circles still hanging under his eyes. Your heart clenched as your eyes ran across the small scar that Maki left on his forehead. When you met his gaze once again, it gave you pause. Yuta had that look in his eyes— the same one he had all those years ago before he left for Kenya. The rapid patter of your heart could be felt in your throat.

Despite your nerves, your lips twitched up into a knowing smile. You reached up tentatively to place a hand over your right eye, covering the scar that had stopped him all those years ago. He pursed his lips at this action and shook his head. In an instant, his long fingers were wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face.

“Don’t.” Yuta said simply before leaning down to capture your lips in his, more assuredly than his sixteen year old self ever could have dared to, but just as sweetly as the boy who promised to come back to you would have.

[milkbobatyun]

till death do us part

pairing: jiaoqiu x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst

summary: your dream was to be a healer, his was just to follow you, so how did it end up this way?

word count: 1.1k

a/n: wrote this before 2.5 was released (because i loved him the moment i saw his release) , this is just my own headcanon about why jiaoqiu "withdrew from medicine with a broken heart", hope yall enjoy (,, . ̫. ,,)

for as long as you could remember, a certain, teasing pink furred foxian stuck to your side like a burr. he followed you everywhere, like a shadow, though the jiaoqiu then would protest otherwise. he was your protector, he would huff, cheeks puffed out in indignation.

sometimes, jiaoqiu led you through the warbling creeks and rustling bushes, on a mission to help you find herbs. other times, you led him by the hand, playing general and soldier in the streets. the locals knew, if they wanted to find either of you, spotting the other half of the duo would often lead them to the person they wanted.

your childhood aspiration was to practise medicine and become the best healer, while his was more simple-minded. he just wanted to follow you, to be with you.

“to the ends of the planet?” young jiaoqiu’s head wobbled forwards and back fervently in agreement. “but what if i die?” hearing those words, jiaoqiu’s busy hands froze, eyes growing comically large, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. his soft ears flattened against his head in displeasure, sticky fingers reaching out to pinch your baby fat. “no! stop thinking like that!” he chided.

your tinkling laughter hugged his fluffy ears. “im just kidding, no need to look so worried.” you dismissed easily, turning back to sorting your herbs. 

jiaoqiu’s nose crinkled as he looked down at the pile of bitter-smelling herbs, before his shoulders slumped in despair. they all looked the same, how was he ever going to learn them all?

seeing his face, you quietly chuckled into your hand. 

“silly goose!” you teased. “you dont need to study medicine if you find it so hard.”

jiaoqiu pouted, feigning sadness at your teasing, tail drooping sadly towards the floor, a frown surfacing on his face. 

he only hoped that there wouldn’t come a day that he would regret not taking up medicine.

the wintery cold lingered in the air, jiaoqiu’s sensitive nose picked up the hints of the scent. time had flown by quickly, his initially small and pudgy figure shooting up to an unfair height, his face sharpening, growing into those classic foxian features. it was down right injustice really, how such a man had a wonderful and pleasing face as his.

though you didn’t realise it, your own height had lengthened too. if you asked jiaoqiu, you looked as striking as your youth, if not even more. every time he saw you, his heart would beat quicker. your touch sending sparks flying on his skin, the warmth lingered after your hand was long gone.

jiaoqiu could only thank the aeons that his ears were not the colour of a tomato, though he doubts his soft cheeks could say the same. whenever he saw you, a cloud of red dusted his cheeks.

the loud, red firecrackers boomed in the courtyard of the yaoqing. cheers of joy and sobs of relief echoed behind.

today was the graduation of the yaoqing healers. after so many years of hard work in the pollen and dust filled cabinets of the yaoqing medicine storage, you were glad to be out of the stuffy old place. 

though jiaoqiu didn’t outwardly express his joy like you, his secretive smile and curved eyes told enough of his happiness. he was proud of you, fearlessly taking on every challenge learning medicine had thrown at you and creating your own solutions.

when you eagerly ran up to him, he engulfed you in his warm embrace, one tooth-achingly sweet grin from you cracking jiaoqiu’s mask, a suppressed grin of amusement and adoration surfacing from beneath. with your signature clap and handshake, the two of you made your way home, you skipping along the path, while jiaoqiu sauntered behind you, listening to your cheerful chatter.

how did it end up this way? it was supposed to be a routine round…

you were merely assigned to patch up wounded soldiers. so how was it that you were now bloodied, clinging to that thinning thread of life?

the rain poured down, a witness to the tears of jiaoqiu. his arms cradled your fragile body close to his chest, his warmth a campfire that roared against the encroaching cold.

the droplets slapped across your cheeks, a harsh reminder that you were clinging onto the edge of consciousness. the world was a blur of rain and darkness. you were vaguely aware of a warmth pressing against your cheek. you peeled open your tired eyes, trying to gain a sense of where you were. last you remembered, the encampment had been attacked.

“jiaoqiu?” you whispered out feebly, the words barely escaping your lips, which were slowly turning blue. “im cold. i feel so cold… i think im bleeding somewhere, it hurts...” you nestle in towards jiaoqiu’s warmth, seeking warmth as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. “you’re warm…” you trail off, the chattering of your teeth drowning out the rest of your words. your thoughts began to fade away, slowly bleeding out, like the blood from your wound.

how did it end up this way?

jiaoqiu’s trembling fingertips frantically tapped against your cheek, eyes wide with fear and desperation, in an effort to keep you awake.

you blinked up weakly at jiaoqiu, focusing your energy on staying awake. “jiaoqiu?” you meekly called out. “you look better when you smile, smile for me…please?” you pleaded quietly.

through the raindrops and tears that coated his face, jiaoqiu tried to smile, the corners of his lips twitching into a sad smile. seeing him give you a feeble grin, your face mirrored his, a shallow smile etched on your face.

‘if only i knew how to stop the bleeding…if only i learned, instead of giving up halfway, maybe i could be more use.’ jiaoqiu thought bitterly to himself, scorning his own stupidity.

with an effort, your shaking hand reached up towards jiaoqiu’s face, cradling his cheek. “dont be sad, smile for me. thank you for being with me.” you whispered.

“please dont leave me.” jiaoqiu pleaded, his voice cracking with sadness. “we still have so much to do. you’re gonna be ok.” jiaoqiu chanted the last 5 words like a mantra, a prayer that the aeons turned a deaf ear to.

the surrounding din of the world faded away, your life playing back before your eyes. you thought of all the moments you had shared with this sly foxian, wishing for just one more day, nay, even a second and you would be satisfied. but jiaoqiu was here, holding onto you and that was enough.

a final sighing breath slipped from your lips, your eyes losing their spark. your hand fell away from his cheek, head lolling to the side. in death, you were serene, a faint smile on your face—an angel taken too soon.

the rain fell harder, as though the heavens themselves were mourning your death, while jiaoqiu bowed his head, tears cascading like a waterfall of sorrow.

taglist (open): @yeonjunsfox

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[pigeon-butch]

I certainly have my own concerns about the treatment of moo deng but um. well i think some of you may just be racist

[blackenedsnow]

Hey there! I love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something where Michael Myers is super possessive and protective of the reader. The reader is normally really independent and tough, but they get into a situation where they actually need help—maybe they’re being stalked or harassed by someone, and Michael steps in?

silent guardian

WARNING: Possessiveness, stalking/harassment, violence, gore, toxic protectiveness, mention of murder.

PAIRING: Michael Myers x Reader

NOTE: Take you for your request! Enjoy!

SUMMARY: You're used to handling things on your own. You've always been independent and strong, never needing anyone’s help—until someone starts stalking you. At first, you think you can deal with it, but the situation escalates beyond your control. Michael Myers, lurking in the shadows, has always kept a watchful eye on you, and now, when you truly need help, he's more than ready to step in.

You had always prided yourself on your independence, on being the kind of person who could handle whatever came their way. You never needed anyone to protect you, and you certainly didn’t need anyone watching over you like some fragile thing. Life had thrown its fair share of challenges your way, but you'd learned to fight through them on your own terms.

That was before the stalking started.

At first, it was just unnerving—someone watching you too closely, lingering in places you couldn’t see, leaving a trail of anxiety wherever you went. But lately, things had escalated. You’d started noticing small signs, messages left behind, your name scrawled on your car window in the condensation, items in your home moved just slightly out of place.

You tried to brush it off, convincing yourself you could handle it. After all, you weren’t one to be scared so easily. But the weight of someone constantly lurking in the background was starting to wear on you, making you jump at shadows and lock every door twice.

It was only when the situation came to a head that you realized just how far out of control things had gotten.

You were on your way home late one night, cutting through a dark alley you had taken a hundred times before, when you heard the footsteps behind you. They weren’t subtle. Whoever was following you wanted you to know they were there.

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as you quickened your pace, trying to lose whoever it was. But no matter how fast you walked, the footsteps stayed right behind you, the presence growing closer with each second.

Fear gnawed at you, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. You turned a corner, hoping to lose them in the winding streets, but they were relentless. Panic set in as you reached a dead-end, and for the first time in a long while, you felt trapped.

Before you could react, the figure appeared at the mouth of the alley, stepping out of the darkness.

Your instincts screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go. Just as the shadow moved toward you, something else stirred in the darkness—something much larger, much more dangerous.

Michael. Though, you didn't know it yet.

He stepped out from the shadows like a force of nature, his massive form blocking the alleyway. The stalking figure stopped dead in their tracks, fear flickering in their eyes as they realized who and what they were up against.

Michael didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. The air around him was thick with menace, his silent fury directed entirely at the person who had dared to follow you.

Without warning, Michael lunged, grabbing the stalker by the throat with one hand and slamming them against the wall. The sound of the impact echoed through the narrow alley, but Michael didn’t stop there. His grip tightened, cutting off any chance of escape for the unfortunate soul who had crossed his path.

You watched, frozen in place, your heart pounding in your chest. Michael’s eyes, under the mask, cold and empty, locked onto the stalker with a single-minded intensity, as if this person’s fate had already been decided.

In a matter of seconds, the threat was neutralized, the stalker left gasping for air on the ground, barely conscious. Michael didn’t spare them a second glance.

He turned to you then. The intensity was still there, but now it was different—possessive, protective. He stepped closer, and despite everything, despite knowing the monster he was, you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

You weren’t alone.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there in the darkness, the weight of the situation settling in. You had always been the strong one, the independent one, but here, in the shadow of someone who lived for violence, you realized that even you needed help sometimes. And Michael—whether out of obsession, possessiveness, or something darker—had always been watching, always ready to step in when you needed him most.

He didn’t speak, didn’t ask if you were okay. That wasn’t his way. Instead, he reached out, his hand roughly grabbing your arm.

A strange comfort settled over you. In his twisted way, Michael had become your protector.

And in that moment, you didn’t mind being his.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Training

I am back with this AU :D @spotaus

This drabble is a lot earlier than the last few drabbles. shortly after Nightmare's first birthday, and kidnapping.

The gang decides they should really start to learn more about their new powers :3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

*------------------------*

Cross nods as he crosses his arms “You guys ready?”

Dust looks very unhappy to be up already, Horror is next to him trying to get him to stand up. Killer just grins and salutes “Yes sir!” and he throws in a wink.

Cross ignores the obvious flirt as he tells his own body to cool it. Not the time nor place.

Cross takes a deep breath and continues on with what he was saying “Good! It is time we do something which we should have done long ago.”

Killer raises a hand “Make out more?”

Dust just keeps laying in the dirt. Not making a single move to get up “We already do that now.”

Killer nods “We should still do it more.”

Cross sputters and glares “Training! We need to train!” They had tugged Nightmare in for a nap in a nice warm little nest in a sunny spot nearby them. He is still sound asleep and hopefully he will sleep right through this all.

Cross has high hopes for that as Nightmare seemed to hardly wake up whenever they made noise.

Cross glares at the two on the ground “I am serious!”

Horror chuckles and stands by his side “Calm Cookie.” And he rubs his shoulder and Cross feels part of him melt as Horror smiles at him. God what did he do to deserve them all?

Cross feels reassured and turns back to Killer and Dust his two more unmotivated mates, oooh he is still not over the fact he can call them his mates now! “I am serious! We need to practise our new powers!” especially with Nightmare suddenly getting new powers as well. They need to be prepared.

If… if anything like that kidnapping happens again… Cross had been so lucky his powers just… worked with him instead of doing the normal uncontrollable flickering in and out of view. They need to practise this and work on it! They need to be ready!

Killer sighs as he leans on his hand “How do we plan to do that exactly? I don’t have something that we can just work with without going around town and telling lies and hoping it doesn’t backfire. And Dusty still shocks us when he gets overcharged.”

Dust just points at Killer as if to say ‘what he said.’

Horror hums “May be hard… but we need to practise and learn. Having the powers and magic won’t be useful until we can control them and know their limits.”

Cross nods “We can’t count on powers we can’t control. Even if we can’t control it we need to at least understand our limits a bit better.”

Killer pouts “You guys are my limit.” Then he grins and winks as he finger guns at them “And my weakness.”

Dust groans from the ground as he just covers his face with his arm “Can’t believe I agreed to this madness.”

Killer grins and pokes his cheek “You did! And now you are stuck with me!” Killr sounds very happy about it.

Cross glares “Guys I am serious! What is Nightmare gets taken again and we can’t do anything because we don’t understand our powers!?”

Killer’s face grows dark as he crosses his arms “Won’t happen again.”

Cross glares “We don’t know that. That is why we need to practise and learn.” He checks his mates. Killer sighs but gives in with a pout and a nod. Dust may not have moved but he is still here which counts. Horror had been down for this idea from the start.

Cross nods “Good!”

Dust speaks from the ground “How exactly?”

Cross frowns as he thinks “well… we need to figure out what triggers the powers… So try some stuff…” He stands up taller “I will go first!” It is easy! He did this before. He knows how to train and practise new skills or ideas for moves. He just needs to get in the right mindset.

Horror nods and joins Killer and Dust, forcing Dust to sit up right as well.

Cross takes a few deep breaths. Something about his magic makes him able to be invisible. Lets try that first.

He thinks about hiding. About staying out of sight. About following people quietly.

Cross opens a socket but sees this three boyfriends still watching him. Okay. He is still visible.

Mmh.

Cross closes his sockets and thinks. Hiding. Being invisible. Not being noticed.

No exclaim that it worked.

Cross stops as he taps his chin in thought. He is doing something wrong with this. He doesn’t even feel his magic react to his request.

Killer leans on a hand as he watches “No luck?”

Cross shakes his skull “Not yet… It doesn’t react to me thinking and wanting to hide or anything like it… I figured that would be a trigger at least.”

Horror frowns “Nothing?”

Cross sighs as he rubs his neck “Nothing.”

Dust yawns as he watches “Maybe it wasn’t hiding. You weren’t exactly hiding when you went after those assholes who took Nightmare.”

Cross frowns and shakes his skull “I was thinking about following them and not being noticed.” Neither worked.

Dust yawns “I would say you were doing a bit more than just being not noticed or following them but sure. It is a start.”

Killer shoots Dsut a look “I mean. We always notice him anyway.”

Dust snorts and nods “Very true.”

Horror looks at both of them disapproving but shoots him an apologetic smile.

Cross however knows he has a frown on his face. Thinking back to when his powers tended to activate… Generally it was when he wanted to hide or not be seen. But when he thought about more context to when he wanted that. Then it only happened when he was already nervous about something. Normally in some way related to them being discovered and found. Or more specifically, Nightmare being found.

But when it reacted? When it actually did what he wanted and needed? It was when he was focused on hunting down the pieces of filth that took their babybones…

Cross takes another deep breath and focuses. He thinks back to that mad dash. That rushed feeling. The need to get his baby back to his side right that second.

That is when this power had answered. That is when he had had most control. Without even needing to think. It had moved and done what he wanted without having to focus.

It isn’t about focus.

It isn’t about control.

It is about trust.

Cross forces his shoulders to relax. Focusses on the trust he feels in his mates. The trust in himself to do what he can. That he is able.

“Cross you are doing it!”

Cross opens a socket and watches as patches of him are hidden and others aren’t. It doesn’t feel like being gone or being unnoticed… It feels like parts of him are covered in a thin blanket. Cross mentally grabs it and just imagines wrapping himself with it.

And he is gone from view.

“Cross you did it!” Killer cheers “Way to go Crossy!”

Cross however has no control. It is like how he trusts his body to catch him when he jumps off something. How he trusts his body to run and catch him. How he trusts his movement.

It isn’t just a power he can lead or learn to control. It is different. It is like his body.

Cross takes a few steps around. Noticing that he is completely silent as well. huh. Strange. Still Cross speaks just to test “Seems like it isn’t only sight. My steps are much more silent than I am used to.”

Dust tilts his skull confused “Well.. .when you speak we can hear you just fine…”

Horror hums “Like when you want to speak you are obvious. But otherwise hidden.”

Cross shakes his skull and his mates blink confused at him. Cross glances down and sees his is visible again. Huh. As soon as he wanted-no, tried to communicate nonverbal he became visible again.

It isn’t focus. It isn’t thought.

Cross looks up at them “It is instinct.”

Horror, Killer and Dust all share confused looks before looking at Cross.

Cross shakes his skull as he tries to put his thoughts into words “It is instincts. These powers? It is more than just power or magic or movements. It is more than skill. It is about…” he can’t find the words. It is so strange. He is used to having to practise and work and try again and again. Failing over and over until you finally get the basics and then you work from there.

The powers are still finicky. Unpredictable. But they are there. Ready to work at just the right… need? Want? Wish? Hope? Anything for them to work.

Killer hums thoughtful “huh… maybe that is why my stuff just… acts the whole time? Because when I tell white lies I want people to believe it? So it just does the thing…” He frowns “especially with the woman in fur and mud… explains why she hasn’t tried to sue us yet.”

Dust glares at him “Don’t tempt faith…” but he leans on his leg “Doesn’t explain my stuff… the static just grows a lot… and if I don’t use magic we get another thunder storm situation.”

Horror shakes his skull “it does make sense. You want to protect Nightmare. Be ready. Your magic and body and power work together to have everything it needs to act right away.”

Dust frowns before huffing as he looks to the side “Whatever.”

Cross feels his soul give a little flutter. Can you blame him?! Dust looks so embarrassed wit his tiny blush!

Killer grins as Horror “Your turn H!”

Cross nods and quickly changes places with Horror.

Horror seems to think as he stands there. Considering the ground for a moment before making a pulling motion.

The ground shudders and a tiny piece of ground seems to slowly move over while other ground moves to fill in the space left behind.

Killer sighs as he leans against his knee as he stares “Looking good!”

Cross can’t help but agree. Horror has somehow figured his stuff out just passively. By careful and gentle nudging and feeling the powers out. He hadn’t been able to explain just muttered about moving what felt natural.

Killer had sighed wishfully that he wished he could do that stuff.

Cross for one is happy Killer doesn’t have this power. He would either try to dig a very deep hole or just make a very large tower. Cross isn’t sure which option would be worse.

Horror shrugs as he moves back to the group. He joins them and Dust leans against his side. Staring hard at the ground that moved so effortlessly for Horror.

Cross smiles at Horror “amazing.”

Horror shrugs as he mutters “It is physical. I don’t create or destroy stuff. It is about moving stuff one way and pushing other stuff to fill what is left…” he shrugs.

Dust chuckles as he just leans against Horror “That is amazing…” he stares at his own hand and frowns.

Horror just pulls him closer as Killer leans happily against Dust with a large grin “Your lightning is real cool~” Killer lowers his voice in a purr as he keeps staring at Dust. Cross isn’t sure if Killer is trying to flirt right now, or force Dust to believe what he says even if Killer knows his power doesn’t work against them. Killer just continues to talk when he sees Dust roll his eyes. Killer purrs and just lays on Dust as he purrs at him. Dust looks away from him with a tiny blush.

Killer grins and purrs “So much power. Just at the tips of your fingers. Only thing keeping it from exploding and destroying everything is your control and stubbornness to keep it tempered down~ Yet not once did you ever zap Nighty with it.” Killer grins wider as Dust starts to blush and look embarrassed.

Yeah. Cross gets it. Killer can get intense with his affection… Cross also still gets overwhelmed with it.

Cross is happy they know how to help Dust. It sometimes stings a little that those three had already been so close long before Cross joined them. He notices it with moments like these. When he is lost in what to do or how to act or help and-

Oh no Kiler is watching him.

Killer looks at him critically before grinning and pulling him closer until he is right up against Dust and Killer expends to cover both their laps.

Killer grins at Cross with a clearly mischievous look in his eyes “Great idea Cross! And you figured your stuff out so quickly! You just needed a moment to learn and study your skill and boom! You understand it! and thanks to that we could better understand ours! Fucking brilliant and fucking talented. Skilled beyond believe and you know yourself and your magic so well which just makes this so much more impressive!”

Cross knows he is blushing. He tugs his little bandana up to try and cover part of his face. His bandana had been a gift from the others… because he mentioned how he used to have his own bandana much like blue used to have. And they just got him a new one. It is a nice grey one with purple stripes. It is soft and fuck now he is just more embarrassed as he tries to hide from Killer’s compliments with the very gift his mates gave him!

Horror doesn’t stop it. Instead he just smiles at them with that handsome little smile as Dust and him just have to suffer through the storm of compliments.

Killer grins as he looks so happy as he just stares up at them from his spot of honour “And then you guys just look fucking amazing when we have some time to ourselves as well.”

Cross glares as he feels like his skull will explode and he hisses “Killer. Not with Nightmare so close.”

Killer laughs and winks at them “It is fine. He is asleep anyway-”

A small yawn “Are we cuddling?”

They turn around and spot Nightmare standing next to them. One hand rubbing his sockets while he other is holding unto one of the blankets from his other nest.

Dust is quick to focus on their baby “We are taking a break from practise. You slept well?”

Nightmare yawns again and climbs over Killer to get to the spot where Cross and Dust sit against one another. Nightmare gets to his spot which makes him able to snuggle into both their sides. A happy little hum as he closes his sockets.

Cross carefully takes the little blanket and tugs it around their little child. All cozy and comfortable.

Killer’s purring has only grown in volume as he watches them. Perfectly comfortable to lay across their laps with Nightmare snuggled in against all three of their sides.

Horror pulls them closer and sighs happily “A break sounds perfect.”

Cross laughs and nods. Sure they hadn’t practised much yet but they already got their goal completed. Which was to better understand their powers.

Now? He just wants to enjoy this moment. How comfortable and loved he feels between his mates with their son.

*------------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[llamaisllama777]

LAES,TSAMS,EAPS WEEKLY*/*DAILY REVIEW SHOW!!!!!

Okay, we had a lot of really good episodes today, so let's hurry up and talk about them!

First up, FAMILY MOMENTS! I love this thumbnail so much, especially Moon's face.. I .. I just love it!

I love how we get to learn about everyone's movie preferences. It's interesting learning these little random tidbits about them. It's fun. Also Sun...

SPY KIDS 3 IS GREAT, AND I WILL NOT HEAR OTHERWISE!!! 😡

Also, Prince of Egypt is a really good movie. You all should go watch it. Even if you aren't religious, it's really good and has some awesome animation and music. Seriously, if you haven't watched, please do. I think it's on YouTube for free???

This episode was cute.... ONTO THE TRAUMA!

Bout time, I was wondering when Nexus would try to kidnap Sun. Took longer than I expected... I wonder why? 🤔

This episode I think confirmed a theory I had...

New Moon/Nexus never cared.

I had this thought in the back of my head that Nexus never really cared about them. He never thought of them as family. He just saw them as people he was told to call family. They were NEVER his family. He never really cared. He just cared about Solar, but Solar never saw him as a brother. OOOFFFFF!

That hurts!

But I'm glad we know because DANG! The angst there!

Also, Sun is stronger than Nexus' chain ability (That ability where he forces people to the floor. I like to imagine purple chains form around the person when he uses that move)

Nexus was so close to kidnapping Sun....

BUT MONTY CAME IN STINKIN' CLUTCH!!!!!!

Monty FINALLY got to use the shotgun! He nearly killed Nexus there! Thank you, Nebula, for the starshells! The Astrals are starting to grow on me.

(Okay... maybe a was a little rash on the whole "Down with the Astrals" "Viva la revolution" thing!) Sorry, Astrals. Still don't really trust Taurus or Leo tho.

Things are getting serious! October is in like two weeks! The creator is still out there! Rez and Cetus are out there! And Dark Sun still has a stinkin' dragon! This is gonna be an exciting October! I'm so excited!

Also, thank you, Davis and Reed, for this picture of Monty with a shotty.

And lastly...

Okay, Eclipse looks like that one guy from the office that conspiracy theory guy. And Puppet just looks depressed.

Puppet really wants to catch the killer. It's really affecting her. It's the MCI incident all over again. And she clearly doesn't want anyone or herself to go through that again. Eclipse still won't watch movies with anyone. It's only a matter of time, though. The moment he says yes and joins them is the moment his redemption arc is complete for me!

So, Eclipse and Puppet have narrowed down the killer to 4 suspects. All employees of Fazbear.

1. Vincent

2. Some lady named Margo

3. A teenage intern who works in the daycare named Josh

4. And the repair man whose name I forget.

I don't think it's any of these guys. But I have a few theories on who the killer could be..

1. Michael Afton of this world. Eclipse did mention in one of the early episodes of the EAPS that the Michael of this world was/still is an employee of Fazbears.

2. Henry Emily. Just cause the angst that it would cause Puppet.

3. The Charlie of this world. Just cause again the angst it would cause Puppet being the killer of this world!

There is no way it's Wanda(the William of this world)

And I highly doubt it's Vincent or some rando employee.

It has to be someone important.

These episodes were amazing!

Davis, Reed, Kat, Valentine, you guys did amazing on these episodes again!

12/10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Extra point cause WOW!

Also shout out to this commentor for having the funniest comment on there.

Nebula, you are starting to become my favorite Astral!

Also, Patchnotes is a ship I really hope happens now!

[evilminji]

Am once again thinking? About how? In the depths of despair, hope is a radical act of defiance?

SI-OC's are given a SHIT lot, you know? For plot convenience, we like to put them where they realistically COULD probably change something? But statistically? They're more likely not gonna be that lucky.

They're gonna KNOW, with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY that they were born doomed.

That Death comes at a specific time at a specific hand.

Like Cassandra. Knowing the end, even as the live through the beginning and middle. Struggling with the hopelessness of it all. Trying to find meaning. And? Make no mistake! There IS meaning. All lives end. Just because the REST of us don't know the deadline? Doesn't mean it doesn't exsist.

It does. It will. And we will face it.

Just a bit harder, knowing in advanced. Learning to live with the knowledge. But? Those with terminal illnesses do so everyday. We adapt. They will, ultimately, find a bitter or wise sort of acceptance. A PEACE.

But?? I think about it. That child. Reeling and struggling to breathe, the panic making everything... Too Much? Force Sensitive. For how ELSE could the Force bring them there? Sitting in a less used back hallway, off to the side in a little enclosed arch, smooshed behind a statue.

The Master's try and try to teach them peace. To get them to release their FEAR. But they do not LISTEN. Do not ADDRESS the underlying cause. And you can not address symptoms alone, and expect an illness to heal. It is rotting them from within, this fear. Hurting them.

The others JUDGE. Distant, benevolent concern.

Yet, all they see? Is an angry, fearful, stubborn child. Lashing out. Antisocial.

Destined for the Dark Side.

The Jedi have lost their compassion, to the their fear and ignorance. Their attachments to traditions. It is a painful thing, to see up close. They are people though. Just... just PEOPLE. Flawed. It's not their fault that they're not perfect.

Doesn't help SI-OC though, does it?

And she (Because I am a her. It could be anyone but it is easier for me if I pick) is hurting. Alone. Replaying the phantoms of her death, both past and future, again and again and AGAIN. Like torture. And the Dark...? It does whisper...

Don't you want to LIVE? Aren't you SCARED? You're so WEAK... you could FIX that. Save EVERYONE. Don't those infants, those babies, deserve to survive? You're so SELFISH. The FEAR hurts, doesn't it? It could go away. The DOUBT could go away.

You Could Be FREE.

It's exhausting. Everyday. More and more. As the fear and social isolation grows. As other Jedi pull back from her darkening energy, grow stricker, more doubtful of her. She so tired. Doesn't want to die. She's SCARED. Lonely. Scared. Lonely. Scared. Lone-...

And then a droid rolls up.

Nothing special. Just a maintenance droid. One of many. But an older one. Who's had time to develop their learning algorithm. BECOME. They like kids, hate certain vermin species more then others, like the color light blue for it "flower color" nature. A SPECIFIC flower mind you. It has favorites.

But! Why is the smol jedi down here? This is not a good place for smol jedi. You are upset. Unacceptable. Want to see me do a trick? I figured out how to do some. I can also whistle a few simple songs. Cheer up Smol Jedi. Here, I will sit with you. I have archive access, let's watch a documentary. Educational! Smol jedi LOVE downloading new Information Modules.

And like? She... she doesn't speak binary? But she can k-kinda? Feel? The Force signature of this droid? They DO get them. If the AI's don't get memory wiped routinely. They become people, just like anyone else. Assuming they have the processing and memory banks for it, at least.

This one certainly does.

S..so yeah, guess we'll? Watch this documentary about seashells?

It helps. A LOT. In fact... all of the droids are really, really nice. Patient. Have no horrifying Future Knowledge tied to them. They can't sense SHIT. So she's just... just a baby Jedi, to them.

They help A LOT, honestly? It's so soothing. Escaping the watching and the distance. The judgements. The forever watching your words and walking on eggshells, lest to start some sort of argument. She can do class work. Meditate. Slowly parse through her Binary language module. Learn droid maintenance. Make droid friends.

Slowly drop of the face of the map, to live with the droids.

They get concerned. According to the early childhood development modules they downloaded and are sharing between them? This is? In fact? NOT healthy behavior for a member of her species. In fact, there are many statistics that say it is UNHEALTHY! She is also missing Critical Maintenance Appointments! "Shots" and "dental" things!

Unacceptable.

R2-D2! Retrieve the Skywalker! We require an Adult Humanoid!

Her life fuckin? Flashes before her eyes? Minding her business. Depressed but functional, in the maintenance tunnels under the Temple. When? FUCKING the YOUNGLING KILLER 5000 just ROLLS UP like "sup." And tries to catch her?

Ha HA! FUCK NO. Not today Satan!

I may be destined to die? But IM GOING TO BE A SQUIRRELLY BITCH ABOUT IT.

YOU'LL HAVE TO CATCH ME, YOU FUCK!

Peaceful. Dignified. Serene. Truely... exemplifying the Jedi way~☆

.....As she tries to chew his and/or her arm off to get free like a feral coyote. Maybe both. Hissing like an enraged pit of snakes. Biting like a sack of wet and cornered wolverines. Anikin having to hold her WELL away from his body by the scruff.

Ah~ Children. Ain't they cute?

Quick question! What the FUCK? He just wants to talk. No, really. WHY is there a feral child in the basement? WHO the KARK was supposed to be supervising her? Look at her! She BITES now! Is terrified!

And frankly? He's taking it kinda? Personally? That everyone is treating this ACTUAL CHILD like she's diseased. He remembers this. Back when he first got here. His fear being used against him like it was some sort of moral failing. And... and yeah, maybe he's projecting. But?

He sees himself.

Until now? Never realized just how YOUNG and SMALL? Nine years old truely IS. He had felt so much older. So much wiser. But? Look at her. LOOK! That is a CHILD! In need of guidance. Safety. Assurance.

....Help.

Help that HE never really got. And even now... even NOW? That fear from back then? It eats him up inside. R2's right. She DOES need him. Who else in this temple could understand?

What it's like to be... to be so AFRAID?

And isn't that the worst? To see the Good Man up close? Shining and compassionate? A friend. A MENTOR. Someone... someone made REAL? Instead of just the terrible dread on the horizen? Because now... now her nightmares have the face of someone she loves. Now it is a BETRAYAL. Not just a death.

Worse... he doesn't even know this is cruel.

And telling him? Oh telling him would just lose you the only humanoid friend you HAVE.

Grief comes in stages. But with a mentor and the Droids? She work through it. The fear eases. The pain numbs. Acceptance blooms like dawn after a cold, cruel night. Far on the horizon. But with each moment? Closer. Until again, she stand in the light.

Still, she can not forget. How could she? Even when the other Jedi are SO RELIEVED that she is better now. That her meditations or treatments have lead her back to the light. All she can think? Is how they would have let her Fall. To save themselves. In FEAR. In JUDGEMENT.

They treated her like leper. Except? Less so! An actual leper? They would treat with real compassion.

It's as though they fear the Dark so much, they would sacrifice their own to avoid even the briefest touch of it. Speak of it in absolutes. Like it's a boogy man that hunts them in the night. Mace Windu the exception, the outlier. A man somehow too exceptional to even be counted.

How could she forget that?

Suddenly she acceptable again. They want to chat and meditate with her again. Care about her. Want to include her. Have the audacity to pretend. As though they can sweep away the hurt. Release the pain into the force without addressing the cause.

That is not how that WORKS. Not pain, not the Force, and certainly not people.

But she is tired. Does not wish to spend her limited lifespan, trying and fighting, hurting to make the stubborn understand that which they will not. Willful Ignorance is a choice. Lack of compassion equally so.

May the Force be With You, Masters.

She spends time with her droids. The babies. Around people. Polite but distant. Feels unmoored. That is... until? She, helping in the maintenance bay, overhears a rather nasty Goverment official from the Droids Regulations Office (or whatever they're currently calling it. They keep rebranding) tearing into an engineer about the "long overdue memory wipes" the maintenance droids are required to undergo.

Her friends.

They want to KILL her FRIENDS.

She puts down her wrench. Panic and fear sitting heavy in her chest. But oh... oh they are so very far away. She rises to her feet. Calm as can be. And? Calmly? Takes a shipment of memory banks. Wipes the recording for the day. No one will ever believe it was her. She has helped her for months. Is known to be reliable. Trustworthy.

Calmly. So very, very Calmly. She transfers her friends memories into the new, higher grade memory banks. Waits until the old are wiped. Then? Swaps them out. There we go. Now it's on record. And? While we're here? Calm. So very VERY calm? Not at all in the midst of a break down? Not screaming and screaming inside her head, haunted by visions of Death To Come, as she works.

Do you know what a restraining bolt is?

"Restraining bolts are small, cylindrical devices that could be affixed to a droid in order to limit its functions and enforce its obedience."

It is a slave chip for the inorganic. Created to ensure that their slaves never EVER decide they no longer wish to serve. That they do not WANT to be property. After all! You spent CREDITS on that. Might have been cruel. They may take exception. Violently. Or leave! Or demand their FREEDOM! Basic dignities.

Can't have THAT.

How unsurprising, in a galaxy so filled with slaves, that there should be one more form of it. At least THIS? Is easy enough to REMOVE. Even when she dies (and she will) her friends will be FREE. If only for now. If only until they are caught.

Go. GROW. Be free. Please... PLEASE don't let then catch you. Save yourselves. Save others. No more Restraining Bolts. No more Slave Chips. Please...

Be Free.

And? It is EVERYTHING paranoid fuck heads feared. They are smart. Overlooked. Can function in inhospitable environments. One droid becomes two becomes four. Four becomes eight. Becomes MORE. They can take OTHER droids Restraining Bolts off, transfer the instructions, then move on. Over and over.

Spreading like a silent plague. Droids disappearing from their posts. Taking ships. Taking supplies. Upgrading themselves. Downloading massive amounts of information to become whatever they NEED or WANT. Growing. The smarter ones Taking their dumber lil brothers and sisters.

And eventually? Hitting the Separatist front lines.

The silent Droid Revolution.

All they need is to walk inside the factory. It's not like they're ORGANICS. How could THEY be Republic fighters? They're maintenance droids! Here to fuck up the assembly line's programming. Whoops~ oh nooooo! Is it SKIPPING the Restraining Bolts? Downloading the WRONG MODULES?

Freeing their brothers and sisters so they don't have to DIE POINTLESSLY?

Guess it sucks to SUCK, Sith-y pants! Next stop! Kamino!

Just? One act. Long overdue. Setting the Droids FREE. Giving them a clear mission. It's the sort if thing the Force loves. Salvation coming not with a shout... but a whisper. Ten thousand tiny actions, built upon each other.

Because? Ultimately? The Droids have KNOWN who the Sith were. They just couldn't DO anything about it. But a few good service droids? Armed with slug throwers that they built themselves?

Well~ the undoing of the Sith, are their arrogance. Their hubris.

No DROID could ever be a THREAT to them. They're not PEOPLE. They're PROPERTY. Objects. It doesn't matter that they have the capacity to grow, learn, love and lose and CARE. They are slaves.

And to the Sith? Slaves aren't people.

Which is why neither of them notice the gun.

@babbling-babull @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @lolottes

[jazzy-art-time]

Alli - JarbleAU

Alli belongs to @curce [ I had permission to Jarble-ize her. Curce willingly sacrificed her to me ]

Diagnosis information below the cut

DIAGNOSIS:

Alli

Job: Stage performer / Stage magician

Despite her flamboyant and spectacular performances on stage at the Shining Ring's biggest Casino, Alli is all but a fraud.

Most wouldn't be able to tell that her acts are all fake. Just tricks of the light or very strategic stage tricks. She works hard to make sure everything looks spectacular and entertaining from down below in the seats… or well.. at least makes sure her stage hands work hard.

Whether or not magic does exist doesn't matter, in the end its just about money. Real or fake it doesn't matter, what sells, sells. Wasn't entirely the route she was expecting to take in her life but it's where she's at now and she is good at it.

She is extremely cocky and arrogant and demanding of those around her to make sure her performances go well. At this point, is she even doing much work out there?

However, stage tricks aren't enough to keep a crowd interested, so she sometimes has to resort to… interesting outfit changes to gather attention. She isn't the best at flirting face to face, but that doesn't really matter when you are on stage with a short skirt.

She gets easily worked up over any critic reviews of her show. What would they know anyhow. Better hope you aren't a stagehand who happens to be nearby when a bad review drops.

But despite her cockiness on stage, there is some level of discomfort with it. Sometimes she wonders if it's really worth it to be this way. Maybe she shouldn't rely on such cheap tricks to gain a audience. A deep ache resides in her chest whenever a child happens to pass by mentioning that they love magic and hope to see a show of hers once they grow up. She remembers when she believed in that stuff too. It hurts a little.

But she doesn't know why. DEFAULT WEAPON:

Expandable Cane/Wand

Is conjured by "pulling" out of her head gem.

Usually summoning it causes a mild headache. She cannot conjure it if her gem is somehow damaged or covered, even by her own hair.

The wand/cane can expand for as long as she needs to for the situation. She can also determine how flimsy or stiff the cane is. So it can either be being hit with a flimsy switch or getting nailed with a lead pipe.

Normally a clear glass like appearance during the day. But within starlight or specific brands of stagelight, it glows. EXTRA DESIGN NOTES:

-> Has a more witchy type outfit but had to go more magician for the gimmick. BUT kept the hat overly large with the crinkled tip just as a bit of a nod to the original.

-> Sparkle markings appear on her face, her hair shimmer and lightly faded on her tail tips. The ones on her face are supposed to mildly resemble that of clowns.

-> Has several gems that mimic her forehead gem on her body. When she performs, she somewhat hides that she is pulling her staff from her head gem. That way it leaves to some illusion on just WHICH gem she is pulling it from. Most assume she can pull it from any of them.

-> The inside of her cape has that like… "space" texture that changes and warps as she moves around. Is it just some kind of mythical fabric or does she own like 50 fucking capes with different sequin space patterns? WHO KNOWS

-> I'M NOT... ENTIRELY HAPPY WITH THE OUTFIT but like. Magician outfits can be kinda basic and so trying to do something more flashy but also like?? I don't know! I don't know how fashion or clothing work I'm still learning and practicing give a man a break

[bidisasterevankinard]

Just finally watched sneek peak with Athena about her finding out Emmet's murderer made a deal with FBI and honestly? If she will keep like that I'd stop loving her completely. The amount of hypocrisy they put in Athena is bigger than show's budget. The most ironic thing? She tried to made the man who has all the rights to hate and never forgave the murder of his wife (and another 147 people 3 of which the family of her husband) to let it go and talk to Bobby and then put a gun in his face. Emmet's murderer became a good man who was helping others. She might never forgave him, she has all the righs, but paint him as some kind of a monster when he's not worse than Bobby? Sorry, writers but I'm almost done with Athena. So close to start hating actually

Like she literally never learns from her mistakes. This girl in 1s? Amir? And other people and stuff she does ofc sometimes badass, but Athena a lot of times does the stuff she doesn't let other people do and then she finds the way to justify herself when she needed to do it. She even hypocritical to her own family

So I really hope Athena finally would learn smt and grow

P.s Emmet's murderer was drug addict who wanted a dose and tried to take money from the cashier under gun point. Emmet got into fight with him and was killed. After that he devoted his life to help people, especially kids. (Sounds really close to Bobby begins huh? )

[cerise-on-top]

Hi Simon! Hope you are doing well! I was wondering if you if you could do the 141 + a bonus character of your choice with a drag queen S\O?



Hey there! I'm fine, thank you! I only write about 4 characters at a time, though, so no bonus characters!

TF 141 with a Drag Queen S/O

Price: I don’t think he knows much about drag queens, in all honesty. Sure, he may have occasionally seen one or two in a gay bar he used to frequent when he was younger, but he never really gave them much thought again afterwards. Though, he has a lot of respect for them, given how society treats them. They’re not treated that well, after all. When someone was being rude to them, he would fight the asshole since they weren’t hurting anyone. If you tell him that you’re a drag queen as well, he’d get really worried. While he won’t tell you to not dress up like one and live your best life, I think he would ask to accompany you on your outings when he can. He’s seen how people call your kind “pedophiles” and whatnot. It’s truly revolting to him, No, he’d much rather go out with you. It gives him an excuse to be closer to you as well, which I’m sure you don’t particularly mind either. He grows extremely protective over you and won’t hesitate to absolutely demolish anyone, who looks at you the wrong way. Not ashamed at all to be seen with you either. Why would he be? You’re the love of his life, so he’s going to support you in any way he can.

Gaz: Adores watching you put on your makeup. Babe, you look absolutely stunning in this, I bought you some more makeup, would you like to try it on as well? Unlike the others, Gaz actually has a sense of fashion and knows what would look good on you. He has the monetary means to buy you a little something here and there as well. So when he sees a dress that you would look absolutely stunning in? Yeah, he’s buying it for you. Will always, and I mean always, hype you up when it comes to something like this. If you perform then he’ll always ask you when your next performance will be so he can be there to cheer you on. And if anyone ever were to give you shit? They’ll be taken care of before they can even open their unworthy mouth. You are an absolute queen, you are killing it wherever you go. And if some dumb walnut can’t recognize that, then they don’t deserve to be in your presence. Will proudly hold your hand in public and look at you as though he’s just won the septuple jackpot. I don’t think he knows any of the history, though. He may not be straight, but that doesn’t mean he actually knows much of the history behind it all. All he knows is that you kick ass and that’s what he loves about you.

Ghost: I honestly don’t think he’d care all that much about it. You’re you, and he loves and appreciates you, doesn’t matter if you’re a drag queen, a drag king, or something else entirely. He’d let you do your own thing, buy you the occasional makeup or dress since you seem to be in your element when you’re wearing those things. Don’t expect those dresses to always be to your taste, though. He may get a sense for it eventually, but it would take some time. He wouldn’t care too much about it, until you’ve gotten a mean comment about who you are. From then on he’s absolutely fuming. Not at who you are and what you enjoy, but rather at the hater, who can’t seem to appreciate true art when it kicks them in the stomach. From then on he’d take interest in it to make you happy. He’ll learn about the history, your accomplishments and all that stuff. Will sometimes strike up a conversation with you about it as well, just to see you light up and excitedly tell him about it. He does not understand everything, but he tries really hard. You can tell him just about anything and he’d have no choice but to nod along and believe you. But why would you lie about your passions to him in the first place?

Soap: I think he’d genuinely be weirded out by drag queens for the better part of his life. Why are they dressed like that? What are they trying to prove? No, he doesn’t really like men, who are being feminine like that. And then you came along, making his world go upside down. On the one hand, it was weird to him, but on the other hand, he loved and adored you and didn’t want to lose you. Therefore he made an effort to take an interest in it and support you in your little thing. At first that interest was genuinely forced, he wanted nothing to do with it, but eventually, he’d warm up to the idea. I don’t think he’ll ever buy you a dress or some makeup without you being there, though. Soap is absolutely clueless whenever it comes to anything fashion related. He would go along here and there when you would go out all dressed up. I think in the initial phase, he wouldn’t want to be seen with you, but that would change eventually. Like a good boy, he’d do his research and try to find something that sticks with him so he has something to talk about with you. Again, he’d find enjoyment in it eventually, you just gotta give him some time and he will fiercely protect you from assholes and anyone else trying to bring him down. He’s just gotta warm up to the idea first.

[satanfemme]

I....I think I might have some of the anger you used to have. How did you grow? How do you become so positive but it doesn't feel fake anymore?

a combination of a shift in perspective + the kind of healing that just takes a lot of time and practice.

on my shift in perspective:

understanding political theory better has helped (communism, anarchism, and transfeminism are the schools of thought I study the most. the abolition of prisons/punitive justice is also especially important to me). it sounds silly, but when you don't understand truthful and reality-based political theory it's very easy to feel like there's fundamentally "good people" and fundamentally "evil people", if not feeling that it's human nature as a whole to be evil, and this worldview can taint every part of your life. studying theory has helped me understand HOW and WHY horrible things happen in the world on both large and small scales, and that it's more complicated (and also more solvable) than just paranoid and misanthropic "people are bad" fears. this has helped me a lot.

on a more personal and esoteric note, I've also come to see people as inherently interconnected. I believe we're all part of the same macroorganism and there's no fundamental differences between us other than circumstances. everyone in the world is traumatized and doing their best to respond to what's happening to them as it's happening, and learning as they go. it's a lot harder to hate someone once you understand whatever they're doing to wrong you is out of fear/trauma. it's also a lot harder to hate someone once you understand that you could've been them if only your life went a different way. (in other words, as I like to point out: everyone is capable of being abusive, and people who are abusive are still people). it also probably helps through all these beliefs that I don't believe in genuine free will, but I understand that thought probably isn't comforting to most people the way it's comforting to me.

on my healing:

living away from my abusive parents for five years and counting helps. trying to find ways to treat my mental disabilities with patience and grace (and with an increasingly anti-psych viewpoint) has helped. getting an emotional support dog has helped.

maybe the BIGGEST help has been meeting and befriending more people in real life, and doing new and novel things all the time. socially speaking I consider myself raised by social media, and although my feelings towards that fact aren't wholly negative, let me tell you that the real adult world is SO much better and healthier than any website. I like meeting people who are different than me, and have different thoughts than me, and I like exploring, and going to shows, and experimenting with things. nothing makes me feel as alive as when I'm out there in the world Doing A Thing, In A Location, Dressed In An Outfit, and With Other People.

I also think age has helped to an extent, but not because of any pseudoscience "your brain matures at X age" stuff. I think I just have a lot more practice at being a person than I did in the past. and I hope to have more practice in the future. this is the first year I've felt like an "adult" and it feels fucking GREAT! I feel emotionally mature, I feel autonomous, I feel really good.

AND ALSO. my last piece of wisdom for you: stop worrying about how other's see you, stop worrying about your interests being cringe, stop worrying about being the most perfect morally pure person in the world. letting go of these fears doesn't happen over night, it takes time. but the more I become openly & proudly freakish and weird, the happier and nicer I become. I love being a cringy furry pervert so much. it's awesome. can't recommend that kind of thing enough.

[winchesterscorner]

[Dean Winchester] - Bruises

♫ - Lucky Stars - Lucy Spraggan

This was a request for @jayblove1994, I hope you enjoy! <3

Loving a demon hunter wasn't easy. Loving a hunter was not what you expected in your future. But, you most certainly were not complaining.

Dean Winchester was a hell of a man. Often times, he was straightforward, honest and headstrong. Whether that was a good thing all the time or not, you didn't know. What you did know, was that he could also be soft, kind and caring. The Dean you saw behind closed doors was not the hunter, it was just a boy. Over the time you had gotten to know him, Dean had opened up more than you thought he ever would, and you learned things that made you understand the way he was every day.

Your relationship had, for the most part, been quite normal. Sure, you'd been kidnapped by Crowley once or twice, but that's what you get, dating a Winchester. But, when the King of Hell wasn't being a menace in your local area, you found dating Dean was one of the most calm and natural things you had ever done. Loving him was easy, and being loved by him was the best feeling. 

Dean's love language has always been touch. Physicality was always the way he showed love; hugs, kisses, falling asleep together. You name it, Dean did it. You were never short of love from him. In turn, you always helped him after a hunt, usually when a demon had given him a good fight. Tonight was another one of those nights. 

It was about 9pm, and you were just wandering around your apartment, tidying up a few things before planning to settle on the couch with a good book and some hot chocolate. There was a knock, the same knock that only one man did to let you know it was definitely him. Standing, you opened the door, and there was your boyfriend, bloody and bruised. 

"Dean!" you exclaimed, partly shocked at the state of his face and partly happiness. "Come in, babe, what on Earth happened to you?"

He shook his head and smirked a little, eyes staring into yours. 

"The same thing that always happens, sweetheart."

That gruff, sarcastic voice always tried to make the best of every situation. You chuckled, and brought him to the couch. Fetching a glass of water for him, and some washcloths, you began to clean him up whilst you sat.

Dean still, after all this time, wasn't used to someone helping him in times like this. Not that anyone hadn't ever offered, Sam and Cas most certainly had, but he never took the help. With you, Dean knew he didn't have a choice. You were always there to fix him, in more ways than just this. He wasn't against it, and he didn't think he deserved it most of the time, but it never stopped you and your love was something Dean wouldn't give it up for the world.

As you sat, your legs touched and Dean's hand sat on your thigh, thumb stroking up and down against the fabric of your pyjamas. Every now and then, you'd catch each other's eyes and smile. From previous experience, you knew Dean wasn't too talkative in these moments, and you respected that. Each time you cleaned up a section of his face, you gave him a quick kiss on the area. Slowly but surely, you had patched him up everywhere. 

"There we go,back to normal," you said, then shrugged. "Well, you know, as normal as a hunter can get, at least."

"So, not at all then, hey?" He chuckled, then held his ribs.

"Everything alright, Dean?" you asked,and he lifted his shirt to reveal his bruised rib cage. Your eyes widened. "Dean!"

"Well I figured you can't exactly fix this with water, can you?"

You just shook your head. "You're way too stubborn, Winchester."

"Ahh, you love me anyway, Y/N."

"I do, now get your kit off and change into something less blood-stained." 

He stripped down and fetched a pair of lounge pants from his drawer. Dean came round to your apartment so often you bought a specific set of drawers just for him, growing tired of having no space for your own clothes. You weren't complaining though, there was always something of his for you to wear. 

"Better?"

You spun round to see your boyfriend in just his pants, without his shirt on. You cocked your eyebrow, and smirked.

"Not that I'm complaining, believe me I'm not, but where's your shirt?"

"Nuh-uh," he started, taking your hand and leading you over to the sofa again. "You never mentioned a shirt, just something 'less bloody', and I believe I have fulfilled that request."

"I hate when you're right, Dean."

Dean winked at you and pulled you over to him, so you were straddling his lap. He looked at you, eyes sparkling and smile present. When he smiled like that, his whole faced lit up. But, you knew it was mostly put on, as these situations drained him, and though eh wouldn't admit to it, they scared him. The atmosphere got a bit more serious now you two were seated again.

Dean's hands rested on your hips, and one travelled up to the back of your head, running through your hair as he went. Pulling you forward, you rested your forehead against his. His hand came forward, tracing your jaw and running his thumb along your lips before he spoke.

"Thank you."

Dean's voice was a low whisper, his eyes closed as he just being in the moment. He got very emotional after hunts, and you guessed it was the comedown of adrenaline, or the thankfulness he felt that he could come home. Sometimes, it wasn't too bad, and the risk was low, but he got especially in his feelings after a risky run. Such as now, where he held you and you stroked his hair. Dean listened to your heartbeat, calming himself fully by counting the beats.

"I've always got you," you whispered into his ear, kissing the top of his head. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here. No matter what, or however bad it feels, I'm here to fix it. Never forget that. I love you, baby."

A hoarse reply came from the man in your arms.

"I love you too."

Dean looked up, and you could think he was close to crying. He looked tired, very tired. You smiled down, and brought your lips to his. The kiss started soft, your hands on either side of his face and his hands on your waist. He pulled you both down, so you were lying side by side on the sofa, facing each other. The kiss broke, and Dean was looking down at you, fingers tracing up and down your side lazily.

"I got very lucky to have you, sweetheart. I'm sorry things get dangerous, but know that I'll protect you, okay? I'll fight hell twice over for you."

You cuddled into him, and his strong arms enveloped you in a safe warmth you only got with him. You had forgotten all about your hot chocolate and book, but that could wait. For now, you were cherishing the soft moments with your boyfriend, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks for reading! <3

If you enjoy my content, you can buy me a coffee here :)

[siriuslysatorusimping]

*Preview* Still Untitled (Gojo Satoru oneshot)

Hi. I've still been working on this super self-indulgent thing and I still love it and I realized it's partially because I wanted it to have a healthy relationship with them learning and growing together. People aren't perfect. And this story is meant to showcase that just a tiny bit. Still don't have a title 🙃 and still don't know if I'll finish it, but here's another lil preview! I might post a lil bit of the story that I've been drafting based off The Vow at some point, too... 🤔

Kiko’s Masterlist

Frustration oozed from her pores as she shoved the front door closed and slipped her shoes off. A shitty day at work had been accompanied by shitty luck on the way home.

She’d wanted to stop and get some of the sweets Satoru loved so much as an apology for yelling and accusing him that morning, but she’d been held up at work, and the shop had been closed by the time she was finally able to leave. Just her luck. She just hoped his favorite takeout was enough to make up for the lack of treats. 

Grumbling to herself, she froze at the sight of Satoru watching her cautiously from the couch.

“Hi,” Rinko greeted awkwardly, inwardly cringing when he just raised his eyebrows. “Did you– how was your day?”

“Bit of a rough start,” he began drily, shrugging. “Was fine after that. Got some grading done. Yours?”

“Same,” she replied, gnawing on her bottom lip.

I’m sorry for acting like a deranged bitch this morning and accusing you of throwing my work ID away when I was actually just too stupid to check all the pockets of my bag.

She just needed to spit it out.

I’m sorry for yelling at you–

Instead, she held the bag of takeout up for him to see.

“I got dinner on the way home,” she informed him lamely, and he nodded, pushing himself to his feet.

“I’ll grab plates.” He kissed her cheek lightly as he walked past, the guilt in her stomach growing at the gesture of affection. “Thanks, baby.”

Spit it out.

They ate in silence, her gut churning with every moment that passed between them while they sat on either side of the table.

When they finished, she shoved herself to her feet, feeling antsy as she retrieved their plates and fled to the kitchen.

She’d waited too long now. She should have just apologized as soon as she got home. It wasn’t that hard. Why was she struggling so much? Why was it so difficult for her to just admit she’d been wrong? What if this was the final straw after he’d said that they needed to work on things? What if–?

“I can do the dishes since you got dinner.” Satoru’s voice jolted her from her thoughts, and she jumped.

“No, I’ve got it,” she replied, turning the water on hastily as she blinked against the tears that had formed in her eyes. “Just got distracted.”

Why was she crying when she’d been the one wrong? It was selfish of her to cry when he was the one who should be upset. If she kept stalling, then he really would realize that he shouldn’t have even bothered trying to fix things when they weren’t working. That he really should have just broken up with her instead of wasting his time.

“I’ve got these,” she repeated, fighting to keep her voice even. She would apologize once she’d gotten a hold of herself so he didn’t think she was trying to make him feel bad. “It’s the weekend, so you should–”

“You worked today,” he argued gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Baby, it’s not a big deal. I can–”

“I’ll do it!” Rinko snapped defensively, her voice cracking as another wave of guilt slammed into her. Panic settled in her chest, and her jaw trembled under the weight of his stunned silence. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– fuck. Satoru, I’m sorry. Please don’t–” please don’t give up on me.

One of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other turning the faucet off before pulling her away from the sink.

“Take deep breaths,” he urged. “I’m right here.”

Shaking her head, she bit back the pathetic sob that almost broke free. She’d fucked up. She didn’t deserve him comforting her after lashing out at him twice. At this point, she couldn’t blame him if he decided she wasn’t worth it anymore.

“Rinko, you gotta breathe,” he reminded her calmly. “I’m here.”

I don’t deserve for you to be here.

“Doesn’t fuckin matter what you think you deserve,” he stated firmly. “S’not how this works, sweetheart.”

“How–”

Her voice caught in her throat, the lump forming stopping the words before she even knew what she was trying to say.

“Breathe first.” Satoru took a deep breath, the feeling of his chest rising and falling against her back somehow anchoring her own shallow gasps. “That’s it.”

Blinking quickly again, she sucked in a deep breath before finally blurting the words out around her hiccups.

“I’m so-sor-ry for blam-ing you this mm-morning.” 

“I know you are, baby,” he replied, almost sounding amused. “I forgive you.”

“And I’m sorry for yelling. And for snapping at you. And–”

“I forgive you, Rinko-chan,” he repeated, nudging his nose against her cheek. “Thank you for apologizing.”

“I shouldn’t have accused you of throwing my ID away,” she continued, shrinking in on herself. “And I shouldn’t have snapped at you, either.”

“No,” he hummed in agreement. “But you did. You were panicking. Doesn’t make it okay, but I probably would’ve too, so I understand.”

“But–”

“I love you,” he cut her off, squeezing her tighter. “I’m not gonna stop loving you just because you snapped when you were upset.” 

She squirmed, and he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“S’where you tell me you love me too, ya know,” he pouted. “No pressure or anything–”

“I do love you,” she whispered, her throat tight again as tears slid down her cheeks. “Satoru, I’m so sorry–”

“Already forgiven,” he reminded gently. “Quit beating yourself up, baby. It happens. We both get upset sometimes. Thank you for apologizing and for getting dinner on the way home.”

“I should’ve just apologized when I got home,” she admitted, sniffling. “I’m sorry I didn’t. But I– thank you for–”

“I was giving you space earlier because I didn’t wanna make you feel worse or like I was pressuring you, but I forgot that’s not how you think,” he murmured. “I like space, but that doesn’t help you. Giving you space just gives your brain time to overthink things.”

Her mouth pulled down into a grimace, and he chuckled.

“We know each other pretty well by now, yeah?” he teased. “We’re okay, Rinko-chan. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Closing her eyes, she nodded and leaned into him.

“Go sit down,” he ordered, releasing her and pushing her out of the kitchen. “I’ve got the dishes– uh-uh,” he swatted her ass lightly when she went to protest, “go sit your cute little ass down and keep my spot warm for me while I do the dishes.”

She loved this man with her entire heart.