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stellamancer · 2 months

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beyond the unending night (reader + satoru gojo)

notes: it's finally here. the long awaited halloween fic. yes, i know it's march, but i did start working on it in september. haha. there's so much i could say, but i will leave it at that this fic is, in every sense, a fic that i would not normally write. and yet here we are.

contains: f!reader (no physical description or gendered language is used), no explicit romantic pairing (though you don't have to look hard to find the reader x gojo implications), major character death (played with), semi-graphic depictions of death, blood and violence, minor suicide ideation, canon retelling (lines of dialogue are pulled from the jjk english dub because i'm a dirty dub watcher). opening poem is from higurashi no naku koro ni (minagoroshi-hen). fic title is from giga's beyond the way.

please note that this is a time loop fic and, by nature contains repeating scenes (particularly from canon). please do not read this fic if you do not like that sort of thing.

wc: 21,883 read on ao3 (account required) || playlist

Please tell me what happened in this night. It's like the cat inside the box.

Please tell me what happened in this night. You don't know if the cat in the box is dead or alive. Please tell me what happened in this night. The cat in the box was dead.

The first time, it is instant— you don’t even know what’s happening.

The second, it is by flame, but you barely realize it, barely feel it— a second of mind numbing heat before nothing.

The third time, it is something slicing across your throat; you see the blood spilling everywhere, then the pain follows— a moment of pure agony before nothing.

The fourth time you realize what’s going on; what’s really going on.

You realize you’ve been dying.

You think your head is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because the subway platform is crowded, insanely so— there are hundreds of people shoved into this space alongside you, packed like sardines in a can. You’ve never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you live in Tokyo. For the most part, you’ve learned to accept it, but even this crowd is a little much and you wish you hadn’t listened to your friends when they said you should go party in Shibuya for Halloween; you don’t even like partying.

There’s a sharp pain in your temple followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone is screaming it at you through a megaphone positioned right next to your ear.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

For the eighth time.

Before you can even question the thought, images flash in your mind’s eye, blurry at first before they come into focus. The platform gates open. Chaos ensues. People dropping onto the subway tracks— spontaneously bursting into flame— their heads, necks sliced off, stomachs cut open—

Bile rapidly builds up in your throat, and you clamp your jaw shut, trying to force it down. Not here. Not now. You try to focus on something else, anything else happening outside of your brain. There’s a pair next to you musing about the people standing on the subway tracks, wondering what the two (the four?) of them are talking about. You blink back tears as you look. You can only see two: a freakishly tall man with white hair dressed in all black, and another man, dressed in strange, yet more traditional looking garb. Are those costumes too? You don’t have a lot of time to think about it as another image forces its way into your brain.

Your corpse— lifeless on the ground.

Your corpse— burning to ash.

Your corpse— bleeding out.

You can’t hold it in any more. Every fiber in your being screams at you to get away from the subway tracks, but instead you rush toward them, shoving people left and right as your hands desperately reach the stability of the gate. You grip it like a lifeline as you retch over the side of it, the contents of your stomach spilling all over the subway tracks.

There’s a quiet murmur of disgust behind you but you can’t be bothered to respond. You need to get out of here. You need to leave. You need to do it before—

The gates open and the crowd starts to move like a tidal wave, pushing and shoving their way through the gate. You’re swept away, vomit long forgotten as you and a few dozen others tumble onto the railway.

Alarm bells go off in your brain, loud and deafening. A voice in the back of your head screams for you to get off the track! Get off the track now before—

The platform erupts into a cacophony of screams, drenched in horror, saturated in fear. You are surrounded by people, by corpses— beheaded, sliced open, bursting into flames.

Your terror roots you to the ground as the carnage ensues around you. It’s only when another person, another corpse, dressed in a magical girl costume collides with your body that you can finally move. But it’s too late, you realize, despaired and helpless, as your bodies fall to the ground.

It’s too late.

You die an eighth time.

You think your chest is going to explode.

At first, you think it’s because it’s so hard to breathe, frustratingly so— there are hundreds of people squeezed into this space alongside you, packed like cattle for slaughter. You've never been one for crowds, but it’s the reality of things when you’re in Shibuya. For the most part, you’ve come to accept it, but this crowd is way too much and you wish you had just stayed home and ordered a pizza; though honestly, the thought of pizza kind of makes you sick.

There’s a dull throbbing in your forehead, followed by a thought so loud that it feels like someone’s hollering at you from a loudspeaker that’s been installed in your brain.

It’s the night of October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You think it's the ninth time now.

Behind you, you hear a woman screaming, her voice crazed and terrified. You turn your head automatically to look at her and when you see her you realize you recognize her yellow and white magical girl costume. You can say with certainty that you’ve never seen her before and yet—

Before you can ruminate more on it, images— memories assault your mind’s eye with a clarity that is absolutely sickening. That woman colliding into you, your bodies slamming into the subway tracks before you both— Your stomach churns violently,

and you feel like you’re going to puke, but you force it down— can't afford to right now. Instead, you make your way over to the woman.

Her head is in her hands as she mutters over and over again about how everyone is going to die. People around her figure that being stuck in here with the crowd has probably gotten to her. You, however, know better.

“...hey,” you say softly.

Her muttering comes to an abrupt halt and slowly she raises her head to look at you. There’s a flash of recognition in her eyes and she grabs you violently by the shoulders. “You! You know, don’t you? That we’re going to die?”

If it weren’t for the fact that you have indeed experienced death here eight times already, then you would have thought she’s lost her mind. Slowly, you nod and she seems relieved by it, her grip on you loosening.

You can’t help but feel a little relieved too— glad to know that you’re not the only one experiencing this nightmare. There’s a voice in the back of your mind that’s confused though. Why is she only remembering now? But then again, it took you a few times before you realized yourself.

Around you people start to gasp, and you glance back toward the railway to see an abnormally tall man with white hair and dressed in all black jump down from the atrium onto the railway. He lands rather gracefully for someone who jumped at least one floor and starts to converse with the other three people (you think they're people— two of them are in some pretty wild costumes) on the track.

Wait. Isn’t it supposed to be just two people: the tall man and the one in the traditional clothes? Where did the other two come from?

“We have to get out of here,” the woman says. “Before they kill us.”

Her grip shifts from your shoulders to your arms and she starts to shove at everyone around you, trying to force her way through. She seems to know, just as well as you do, that any second now the gates will open and the crowd will start spilling onto the railway, littering the tracks with bodies and ash. Neither of you can let yourselves get swept up with the rest. If you do and you end up on those tracks, you’re as good as dead.

People move aside at a snail's pace, many of them too focused on trying to see what is going on on the subway tracks. This isn't good. You need to move faster or else—

The collective sound of the gates opening echoes in your head, a metallic hiss that makes your stomach fold into itself. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you both whip your heads back to look, to confirm, but it’s a mistake.

The briefest lapse in attention is enough to pull you both into the current of people, and try as you might to fight against it, the crowd splits you and the woman apart as it swallows you both whole. You’re both spat onto the tracks at the edge of the platform and your head collides with the metal rails of the track. It feels like your skull is about to crack in two, and it takes every fiber in your being to scramble to your feet. You're close enough to the platform that if you can just climb up it, then you'll be—

“Help! Help!”

It’s the woman’s voice. You turn to see that she ended up a couple meters away from you. She’s staring at you, eyes brimming with fear filled tears as she extends her hand in your direction. You take a step toward her, reaching out.

And then, her entire body is engulfed in flames, the skirt of her magical girl costume a ring of fiery death around her.

Her blood curdling scream is the only thing you can hear, her burning flesh, the only thing you can see. You don’t know what to do.

You can’t save her.

There's something touching your back. You can barely feel the pressure, but it's hot, scorching hot, mind numbingly hot, painfully hothothot.

You know this sensation. You have felt it before. The scent of burning cloth, burning hair, burning flesh clogs your nostrils. It's too late, you realize, helpless, despaired as the flames eat at your body— your soon to be corpse.

It's too late.

You die a ninth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the tenth time.

Your head hurts, but you ignore it. There’s something more important that you need to attend to. You immediately make your way to the woman you met during your last round, the one you watched burn to death. Her costume is still pristine, unmarred by fire and death.

For now.

She’s not screaming this time and while there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that’s concerned by this, you try to ignore it.

“Um, excuse me?” you say when she doesn’t acknowledge you as you approach.

The woman turns to look at you. You’re taken aback by the distinct lack of recognition and it feels almost as if the woman you encountered previously and the one before you now are two separate people. In a way, they technically are.

“Do I… know you?” she finally asks when you don’t say anything.

Your mouth is dry. How do you even answer that? You don’t know her. You just watched her die twice. You know her. She begged you for help. You couldn’t save her.

If you explain all of this you know she’s just going to think you’ve lost your mind. Maybe you already have— you’ve died nine times after all.

You give her a weak smile. “I… just wanted to tell you that you think your costume looks great.”

She blinks, taken aback by your words. There’s no doubt that she wasn’t expecting you to say that. It’s the truth though, her costume is nice; she’s dressed up as a character from a magical girl anime that was popular a couple years ago.

“Thank you! I made it myself!” The woman breaks out into a genuine smile and your heart hurts. In a few moments she’ll die and the costume she worked so hard to make will be nothing but ash on the subway tracks.

“Sorry,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

“For?”

For watching her die. For not being able to save her.“...I just kind of came up to you all of a sudden…”

She laughs. “It’s okay.”

It’s not.

You consider telling her that she should try to move. That if she stays here she will die. You don’t want her to die. Again. You can still hear her screaming in your ears as she burned to death. You want to tell her.

You don’t.

“Stay safe, okay?” you say. It almost sounds like you’re begging.

She gives you another smile, kind and gentle and you think you’re far too undeserving of it for not telling her what fate will soon befall her. “You too.”

“I’ll try,” you say and move away from the woman just as the gates open and the crowd surges toward the railway. You do not fight it as you are swept up into the crowd and despite what you said, you do not try, this time, to stay safe.

You die for the tenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the fourteenth time.

There’s a slight ache in your head, but it’s subtle enough that you can ignore it. The pain you feel lessens with each round and you think it’s a sign that your body no longer feels the need to remind you of the precarious situation that you’re in.

Or maybe you are just becoming numb to everything: your death, the death of the people around you, the death of the woman in the magical girl costume—

You try not to think about it too much as you reach into your bag to check the time on your phone: 8:37PM. There’s not a lot of time: you need to move.

At the very end of your last attempt to escape this nightmare you realized something. You need to know exactly what is going on around you so you can plan accordingly: where to not stand, where to not go. Up until now, you’ve relied almost solely on the knowledge gained from your previous failures to try and survive, but obviously it’s not enough to keep you alive. You’re not sure why you didn’t realize this earlier. The panic, maybe? The fear?

Maybe you really are becoming numb to all this.

Unlike previous iterations, this time you elect to move closer to the gate, positioning yourself somewhere against it where you’re unlikely to be pushed off the platform in a couple minutes when they open. You take great care to place yourself where you can see the ones responsible for the slaughter very clearly. At the beginning, you could only see one, the one who looks the most human, but with each repetition, the other two have become more and more clear. You wonder why. You don’t have time to think about it.

Murmurs nearby alert you to the arrival of the fourth major player involved in the night’s events. You look up and see the white haired man dressed in all black descending upon the platform like an angel from the heavens. This is your first time really looking at him and you realize there’s something almost inhumanly attractive about him. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it occurs to you that you shouldn’t even try; you don’t have the time to be drooling over some handsome stranger.

You’ve naturally never taken the time to try and listen to whatever the conversation the man and his opponents have before all hell breaks loose on the platform, but you try and lean closer to listen. It’s hard to hear over the dozens of conversations going on behind you, but you try anyway. There might be a clue to what’s actually going on— or better yet, a clue on how to get out of it.

It’s obvious that you’re missing context from what bits of the conversation you do manage to hear, but honestly it all sounds like stuff out of a shounen battle manga. There is one part of the exchange that you manage to hear with a startling sort of clarity. It feels almost as if your heart stops beating as your blood turns ice cold in your veins.

“If I run away, you’re just gonna kill everyone here, right?” the man in black asks.

There’s a pause, and if your heart was still beating it’d be long enough for just four heartbeats.

“If you run away?” The monster with cane repeats, the sadistic grin spreading wide across its features, displaying its charcoal black teeth. The gravelly sound of its voice sets fire to the blood in your veins, your stilled heart thumping wildly, in fear, in anticipation. Soon. It’s happening soon. You brace yourself. “We’re going to do that even if you don’t!”

You die a fourteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is the seventeenth time now.

Things are going surprisingly well, even as the people around you tumble onto the tracks. You manage to hold on, desperation keeping you from falling into the abyss. This is good, you tell yourself, despite the fact that it’s not the first time you’ve achieved this. Every little victory is worth celebrating, but you have to remain vigilant. This is yet another information gathering loop, and while you know that maybe this time you’ll be lucky and live, there’s still a chance, a big one, at that, that you will die again.

You have to make the most of each and every death.

It’s such a morbid thought, but the ends justify the means, or so you tell yourself. If you have to die a few times to make it out of this unending nightmare, then so be it.

The spot you’re in is a good vantage point; it’s easier to see everything happening below you. It’s so good that it’s actually sickening. You watch as the monster with the cane and one with what looks like branches for eyes slaughter the people on the track, mowing them down, setting them aflame. In another life, in another many lives, that was you down there, and for what feels like the first time in forever, you feel like you’re going to be sick. You feel like, at some point, you likened the scene before you to some kind of shounen battle manga, but you think that was wrong.

This is borderline horror.

Everything plays out before you like a scene out of an action horror flick. If you didn’t know better, you’d think you were just an extra on set, but you know the reality is that you’re just an extra to whatever phantasmal battle is taking place in front of you. The monsters and the strangely dressed man all try to attack the man in black, but he manages to block every hit effortlessly, as if he is protected by some sort of invisible barrier. When it seems the two monsters are about to hit him, he merely jumps out of the way and the two monsters seem to collide, the force of their combined strength sending a gust of air throughout the crowd. The man in black neatly lands on a nearby platform half wall and says something about curse users, whatever those are, to the monsters, before he starts to mock them, pulling down his strange blindfold in the process.

And this, you’ve found, is where you start to get in trouble.

You clearly remember thinking, at some point, previously, that there was something attractive about this man. You still don’t know what it is. You haven’t had the time to try and figure it out, but there is one thing that you do know: you can’t keep your eyes off of him.

He drops back down onto the tracks, antagonizing his opponents in an arrogant tone as he approaches. When he comes to a stop between the two monsters, the second round of their fight begins. They try to hit him, but he dodges still, gracefully, fluidly, like the three of them are embroiled in some sort of passionate, yet violent dance.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he cruelly rips off one of the arms of the one-eyed monster.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he brutally kicks the branch-eyed monster in the abdomen, sending them flying to the other side of the platform.

You cannot turn your eyes away as he effortlessly hurls the one-eyed, now one-armed monster in the same direction, sending them smashing into the wall.

Only when the man in black seems to fly to the other side is the spell over you seemingly broken. Still, your eyes give chase, and your body too, rushing from one side of the platform to the other. You can’t lose sight of this fight, you tell yourself, settling in a spot you recall being safe during your last round. Doing so could mean another death, another loop, another October 31.

You watch as the man in black acrobatically dodges what looks to be vines or roots that the monster with branches for eyes seems to have summoned from the depths of the Tokyo metro. He lands on the monster’s shoulders, balancing on them as he uses its branch-eyes for leverage. The look in the man’s eyes is so crazed that you can see it from where you’re standing. He says something to it and then—

With a feral and sadistic smile, he rips their eyes straight out of their skull.

Your heart is pounding wildly in your chest as you watch the fight unfold. It is horrifyingly, disgustingly violent, yet still you watch as people on the track are killed by the human-like person, blood raining down as their freshly beheaded skulls go flying into the air. He and the one-eyed monster launch their counter attacks against the man in black and the blowback is so intense the power goes out causing everyone to scream.

There’s a faint glow where the man in black is standing that starts to grow brighter and brighter. You can make out his form turning to face the wall, and it seems almost like he’s slammed the monster that had branches for eyes against it with some sort of telekinetic power. Despite the panic from the people around you, you manage to hear him, chuckling like a mad man as he draws closer and closer to the monster.

The one-eyed monster yells out a name, a name you think must belong to the man, but he doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as he extends his hands out toward the eyeless monster, exerting some kind of force that you can’t really see. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster as the eyeless monster’s entire body is vaporized in a flash of blue light. He doesn’t hear the one-eyed monster, as the lights flicker back on revealing a smoking crater stained with purple blood where the eyeless monster once stood.

But you do.

Satoru Gojo.

You make sure to remember that.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And this is the eighteenth time.

You watch as the man called Satoru Gojo stalks through the crowd of people on the subway tracks, chasing after the one-eyed fire monster. It throws people at him, in a clear attempt to slow him down.

It does not work.

Satoru Gojo climbs back onto the platform in a way that you can only describe as inhuman, and the people nearby shriek and move away from him, out of terror, out of fear. You, on the other hand, draw closer, refusing to lose sight of him.

He is relentless in his pursuit of the one-eyed monster. It continues to throw person after person at him, but he does not stop and the people float there, suspended in midair before they are gently lowered to the ground by some unseen force and scramble away.

No one dares get close to Satoru Gojo, everyone on the platform seems to know that doing so means certain death, yourself included. But you still feel the need to keep an eye on him. The monster and the strangely dressed man are focusing more on him than the crowd— anyone in between is just collateral damage.

But not you.

Especially since you’ve made it this far— you’ve never made it this far before.

A voice echoes throughout the platform; you realize it’s the automated announcement.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You can hear everyone’s relief coming from all sides. The train is coming! The train is coming! A ripple of hope makes its way throughout the crowd. With the train comes the chance to get off the platform and the senseless violence that’s been happening here. Some of the people around you are talking excitedly and others are running toward the gates, toeing the yellow line they’ve been instructed to wait behind. And you, you should be excited, you should be hopeful.

All you feel is dread.

It eats at your stomach, at your chest, at your mind. Clawing and gnawing at you in a way that leaves you paralyzed on the platform. There’s something wrong here. You can’t be sure because you’ve never made it this far, never survived long enough for the train to come, but something is just not right.

No.

You must be paranoid. The train coming is a good thing. It has to be a good thing. You are just paranoid. It’s normal. It’s natural. Dying seventeen times would do that to anyone— rob them of hope, condemn them to an existence full of fear.

It is not lost on you that the thought of dying more than once, much less, dying seventeen times is not normal or natural in the very slightest.

But you need hope, you crave it, wildly, desperately. The hope of freedom, of escape is the only thing getting you through this unending nightmare. Every time you die, every time you wake, it is with the hope that maybe, just maybe this iteration will be different, maybe this one will be the one where you make it out, make it back to your friends who must be waiting for you, make it back home where you can be safe and sound. You need the hope to keep going. Because without hope, what will you have left?

The train screeches as it pulls into the station and the people around you laugh in both disbelief and relief. They start to push and shove toward it, fighting to be able to board because there’s no way everyone here will be able to get on an eight car train and being left behind at this point is practically synonymous with death. Unable to decide if you believe in the train as a symbol of hope or a new layer of fear, you are pushed along with the crowd toward it.

The doors of the train cars slide open and the current passengers all rush off as they disembark. You as well as everyone else on the platform can see with a horrifying clarity that the train is filled to the brim with monsters. Monsters that reach out and grab anyone their hands can reach. The woman to your left. The person to your right.

You.

Hope is gone.

What do you have left?

You die for the eighteenth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This is probably the twenty-sixth time now.

If there is anything this entire ordeal has taught you, it is that you are resilient. Whether it is some innate trait that you never had any reason to uncover before or just a byproduct of being trapped in an unending cycle of being dead and not dead, you don't know. What you do know, though, is that even if you no longer have hope, you at least have your resilience.

Whether you want it or not.

You check the time. It’s 8:35PM. Something flickers in your chest, like a faint light in a sea of darkness, but you ignore it. You don’t have time right now.

With a nimbleness born from your previous failures, you weave your way through the crowd. You’ve done this enough times to know where the gaps are— who will yield and who won’t. Your destination is the escalator that leads off the platform and up to a higher part of the station. You’d noticed previously that the escalator along with every other entrance onto the platform will eventually be blocked by vines or roots of some sort (the work of the branch-eyed monster probably). It’s not a perfect plan because you don’t know what happens on the other side, but whatever it is has to be better than whatever is happening on the side that you’ve been on.

You’d tried to get to the stairs during your last two rounds, but you’d just missed it. You hadn’t been fast enough and had gotten caged and slaughtered along with the rest. But this time, this time you have more time. It’s just one minute, but it’s enough. You know it is.

The flickering in your heart grows stronger. Hope. You try not to pay attention to it— you don’t want to be disappointed yet again. But you want to so badly. A voice in the back of your mind tells you to focus on the good, tells you that if there was truly no way out of this endless nightmare, then why would you get more and more time with each round to escape your fate?

With that thought in mind, you break out into a run, recklessly rushing through the crowd, shoving anyone who will not yield to the side. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the stark white of Satoru Gojo’s hair as he descends upon the platform.

You need to get up those stairs.

Now.

If you remember correctly, the roots and vines don’t close off the area the moment he touches down, but a little after they start talking, so you think there is probably some time, but you can’t leave it to chance.

The stairs are packed, and for some reason no one is moving. The escalator right next to it is just as full and the power doesn’t seem to be working. You don’t have time for this. You clamber onto the escalator’s rubber handrail, ignoring the weird feeling that passes through your body as you do so. You don’t have the time to worry about whatever that is. The people around you start exclaiming around you, but you don’t care, you don’t listen. You wobble as you try to balance yourself and when you think you’re steady you try to run.

But you trip.

And you die for the twenty-sixth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

This marks the thirtieth time.

And you have, finally, finally made it up the escalator, up the stairs with barely a second to spare. You pause, glancing back as the roots or vines or whatever the hell they are seal off the entrance to the platform. You notice that the area where the plants come down is actually fairly clear, despite the crowd. It seems weird, but you don’t dwell on it.

A strange feeling envelops your entire body and your legs turn into jelly. As you sink to the floor, you realize what you’re feeling is relief as all the tension, maybe thirty iterations of Halloween 2018 worth, seeps from your being. You don't remember the last time you felt anything other than fear and dread; it’s weird, but not unwelcome.

That voice in the back of your mind tells you that you can't relax just yet: October 31st isn’t over. Even though you have repeated this night again and again, burning the events that play out on the platform into your memory, you do not know a single thing that happens over here. It would be smart to scope everything out.

Legs still shaky, you rise to your feet and start walking. You think it’s probably for the best to try and head up to the surface and you make your way up to the next floor.

It’s packed with people here too, but relatively peaceful, especially when you compare it to the pandemonium taking place beneath your feet. Still, you can make out the undeniable hum of displeasure resonating throughout the crowd. People complaining about how uncomfortable their costumes are, people complaining about how much they want to go home, people complaining about how much their nights have been ruined because they couldn’t meet up with their friends and—

A thought hits you like an eight car train.

You were supposed to meet up with your friends.

That’s why you were on the platform in the first place— you were waiting for them to arrive, but then the trains stopped working, and people just started pouring into the station out of seemingly nowhere (you think you heard some people say they’d come from the crossing?). Soon after that is when everything went to shit.

You check your phone, though, for once it’s not to look at the time (8:56PM). Instead, you open LINE to check your friends’ group chat. There’s no signal here, for whatever reason, so if there are any new messages, you haven’t received them. The last one was from Kei, mentioning he was enroute, but as far as you know, you’re the only one who made it to Shibuya before the trains stopped.

Did one of them maybe make it here though? Surely, you would have run into them if—

The image of a woman in a magical girl costume fills your vision, burning to death before your very eyes as her screams echo in your ears. It is the first time in what feels like forever that you’ve thought about her and your stomach churns violently. You couldn’t help her, you can’t even help yourself, so how could you even expect to do the same for your friends if they were here? The mere thought of having to watch them die over and over is almost enough to send you over the edge. You don’t know if you could do it.

Would you even have a choice?

No. You can't think like that. You have choices. You've had choices. If you didn’t then, you would still be down below, among the fire and brimstone. Dying, if not dead already. However, instead, you are up here, where, for the moment, it is quiet and peaceful.

That thought, in of itself, is enough to give you a shred of solace, a glimmer of hope.

You take a deep breath and fiddle with your phone a little more, changing your lock screen to a picture you and your friends took at a photo booth not too long ago. The four of you are huddled together, faces squished as if you're all struggling to fit in the frame, despite there being plenty of room. You're mid-laugh because it's the first time you've been in a photo booth in years, Mio and Shin are grinning mischievously and finally, Kei is smiling, but only just slightly, the embarrassment clear on his face. It's probably only been a few months since you all took this picture, but the fact that it feels like it's been years makes your heart ache.

You press your forehead to the screen, like a prayer, like a promise.

You will make it out of this nightmare.

No matter what.

A shrill scream yanks you from your thoughts and you are instantly on your feet, alert as your eyes flit around frantically to identify the source. It doesn't take long for you to find it and when you do, you think you might have stumbled upon a new layer of horror to this nightmare.

It’s not the corpse, dangling by a noose, that terrifies you— by now you’ve seen dozens upon dozens of dead bodies that the sight of just one more doesn’t faze you in the slightest. The thing that’s the most mortifying, that’s the most disturbing is that right next to where the body is tied are two girls, two teenage girls still dressed in their school uniforms.

You can accept monsters and weirdly dressed men being responsible for the carnage tonight, but children too? Both girls look like they’re barely in high school and try as you might to rationalize things, to chalk it up to coincidence, you cannot ignore the ominous energy radiating from them.

The very notion that these two children could have killed someone here is a hard pill to swallow, but so is the fact that you’ve died.

And you’ve had to swallow that pill thirty times now, so what’s once more?

“Listen up!” one of the girls yells over the crowd, but she is mostly ignored; you don’t think everyone here has noticed her and the corpse dangling from the rafters. She scowls and turns to the other girl and says something quietly to her. The other girl nods and almost instantly she’s stringing up another person, another example. You want to look away so badly, and yet you cannot bring yourself to and you watch the poor soul choke to death.

“I said listen, you dumb monkeys!” the girl shouts, and this time she’s caught most of the crowd’s attention. “If you don’t want to end up like these two, you’ll listen to what we have to say!”

There is clear dissent among the crowd, people dismissive as they utter their disbelief. Some seem to think it’s a prank, but you know better. It takes two more examples before the crowd goes silent before the two high schoolers.

“About damn time!” The girl roars and then points toward the atrium, which is currently covered by roots and branches. “All of you move over there!”

You have a bad feeling about this.

Still, you comply; the girls have made it abundantly clear that failure to do so will result in death, though, at this point, you're almost certain this iteration is a bust and death is all but imminent. You try to keep positive— thinking you can at least gather information or, who knows, maybe there's a chance that this one is the one.

Yet when you step onto the mound of vines and branches that cover the atrium it feels as if you've crossed the threshold into hell. Your footing is stable… but for how long?

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

It's faint, but you can hear the announcement from below. The liquid in your stomach curdles at the sound as you recall the train and, in particular, what is on board. Soon enough, those monsters will be swarming the platform, massacring everyone in reach, guzzling down their blood, feasting on their flesh—

It dawns on you that the people on the platform are the monsters' first course.

And you, and those around you here in the shrubbery, are the second.

As you realize this, the branches and vines disintegrate beneath your very feet and suddenly you are mid air— falling, falling into the abyss below.

You die for the thirtieth time.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

You've done this nearly sixty times now.

After countless failures, you've decided that you're just not going to go upstairs any more. No matter where you try to go, you still end up herded onto the death trap above the platform where you ultimately fall to your death. You've tried positioning yourself in the same spot, tried bracing yourself for the drop— but nothing seems to work: upon landing, assuming you manage to land without hurting yourself or dying in midair (which has happened a couple times) you get grabbed and killed by one of the monsters from the train. It's probably not impossible, you just don't have the physical prowess or reflexes for it.

If anything, you can try again later, but you sincerely hope you don't have to.

It's 8:32PM, and you have plenty of time to get to your chosen spot for this loop— it's close to the stairs, in the very center of the platform. Here, there's little risk of getting pushed off onto the tracks when the gates open. You'll probably have to move when the train comes, or even before (assuming you survive) to avoid the monsters, but you'll get to that when it's time.

You can't really see the fight once it breaks out after Satoru Gojo arrives, but you still try to keep track of it as best as you can. You see when he hurls both monsters across the platform and you're not sure if it's muscle memory or what but you have to fight the urge to move to the side and watch. It's been a while, yes, but you've seen the fight countless times before— it doesn't change. Satoru Gojo will give chase. He will rip the branches from the branch eyed monster's skull. He will use some kind of power to eviscerate them.

You don't need to watch, but there's something in you that wants to.

It doesn't make sense, you've seen it all before; if you're unlucky you'll see it all again.

The lights go out and people start screaming; Satoru Gojo is ending the life of that one monster. Soon enough he'll be back on the platform, in pursuit of the other. You think at that point it would be good to move, reposition yourself as far from the incoming train as possible.

When he rises from the tracks like a demon straight from hell, you realize it's the first time this loop that you've actually gotten a good look at him. You remind yourself, again, that this isn't the first time you've seen this man, this scene. You can't help but watch, but stare at Satoru Gojo as he stalks through the crowd in pursuit of his prey. His expression is an eerie sort of calm that's at odds with the acts of violence you've seen him commit— his eyes an unnaturally bright blue.

He's a terrifying sort of beauty and you can't help but be captivated by him.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

The sound of the announcement sends your heartbeat into a frenzy, snapping you out of your little trance. The train is coming and you need to get moving. As you dart to the edge of the platform, the thought occurs to you that even if you avoid the initial wave of monsters, it's likely you will inevitably be caught by them and killed. It wouldn't be impossible for Satoru Gojo to turn his attention to them instead of the two he's currently facing, but he's just one man— can he truly defeat all those monsters?

You can see the train pulling in and you brace yourself, praying that it'll work out somehow.

The doors hiss open and the screaming starts again as the monsters come bursting out of the train, biting and mauling anyone they can get their hands on. Those who were lucky enough to not be at the front start to scramble away and the monsters give chase. Your body is taut, ready to try and dodge any that come your way.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice something moving through the air. A person? With blue hair? You take the risk to look— they're attacking Satoru Gojo. He tries to punch them but they fly away from him to dodge— disappearing into the crowd.

You hear a loud cracking sound over the cacophony of the crowd and your stomach twists; you know what that sound is. The roots above the atrium disintegrate and bodies from above start to rain down onto the platform.

And then, you're not sure what happens— it's so quick that you only manage to see what looks like an explosion of blood surrounding Satoru Gojo. Corpses litter the ground around him and even from here you can tell he is shaken by the carnage.

The monsters have finally reached where you're standing, and you duck under one as it lunges at you. Although it's big and scary, you realize it's moving kind of slow. Right after it another one comes at you and you take a side step to avoid it; this monster is kind of slow too.

Maybe you can do this.

As soon as you think that a strange feeling courses through you. Every hair on your body feels like it's standing on edge and the voice in your head is telling you to look at Satoru Gojo. You don't understand why because you think he's the least of your worries right now, but you do it anyway.

He's in some sort of stance, one hand raised to his face, fingers bent in some kind of gesture. There's some sort of aura, oppressive and frightening emanating from his form.

Satoru Gojo is doing something.

You just can't tell what.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are utterly confused.

Barring your first few loops when you weren't fully aware of what was happening, you have very distinct memories of how each of your previous iterations of this night have gone— of each and every one of your deaths. But for your last round, the last thing you remember was feeling the immense power radiating from Satoru Gojo's body, but that's it.

You do not remember dying.

In fact, you don't think you did.

And yet, here you are again, back at the start: it's 8:32PM and the monsters and strangely dressed man are standing on the subway tracks waiting for the arrival of Satoru Gojo.

You don't understand what's going on; you didn't die but you're still stuck in this damn loop. Up until now, your death has served as the trigger to restart the loop. It's not impossible that maybe you suffered a quick and painless death but you're almost certain that isn't the case.

Something else must have happened.

Something having to do with Satoru Gojo.

You have to find out what. If you don't, you won't know how to avoid it, and if you can't do that, then you really might spend an eternity stuck in this nightmare. And so you take great care to repeat the steps of your last round. You need to make sure to survive to the same point you made it to last time.

Miraculously, you do.

The moment you feel that sensation again, a prickling sort of feeling that envelops your entire body, your eyes are on Satoru Gojo— trying to figure out what the hell he's doing. His eyes are crazed with a desperate kind of focus. You see his mouth move— he's saying something. A spell? A prayer? A curse?

You don't know.

You do know.

Your brain feels like it's going to explode.

Again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

Again.

You do not know how many times it's been the night of Halloween in Shibuya: you stopped counting around the hundredth loop. It feels like it's been a while since then. Or maybe it hasn't? You don't know any more.

What you do know is that this night ends up going one of two ways before you are forced to repeat it. Either you die, in some way, shape or form or something happens just after nine that forces you to reset. You still don't know what it is exactly; you only know that Satoru Gojo is responsible for it.

You do prefer it to dying— it's far less painful.

But if anything, you wish you could just die permanently and never have to repeat this night ever again.

Unfortunately, you know better.

The only good thing you’ve noticed about all of this is that you really do seem to keep waking up earlier and earlier. The last time you checked, it was at around 8:30. It might take hundreds of thousands of loops, but eventually you’ll certainly wake up early enough to avoid this damn entire mess.

But by the time that happens… will your sanity still be intact? Will you really be able to go back to a normal day to day life after living the equivalent of hundreds of years, repeating the same night over and over again? You don’t even know how you’ve managed to stay sane all this time and as much as you want to believe you could do it…

There has to be a breaking point.

For both your mind and this time loop.

If you’re lucky, you’ll reach the latter first.

There’s a dull ache in your head that feels foreign yet familiar. Your mind is foggy, all your thoughts hazy as you try to recall what the word for this feeling is.

Groggy.

It feels as if you’ve woken up from a nap and you blink the sleepiness away from your eyes. When was the last time you took a nap? It’s been a while… You think you maybe tried once or twice, but you were too nervous, too on edge. Awake or asleep, it didn’t matter because, either way, you were doomed to repeat this nightmare.

As you think this, you realize that something is different.

You’re used to how the start of each loop feels like waking up suddenly and abruptly and it becomes clear to you that you haven’t looped. This is completely uncharted territory.

You need to find out what’s going on.

The first thing you notice is that it’s quiet. Almost eerily so, especially when the last thing you remember was screaming and chaos. You glance around you and find that it looks like all the monsters from the train are dead, the ground littered in their bloodstains and corpses. There were so many of them, you don’t know how someone could have wiped them out so quickly… Could it possibly have been Satoru Gojo’s doing?

More concerning than the complete eradication of the monsters is the fact that nearly everyone else on the platform is standing stock still, their mouths ajar with blank expressions on their faces. It’s almost as if their souls have completely vacated their bodies…

Were you like that too before you woke up?

You hear voices, and your body immediately goes tense as you turn your head in their direction. A little ways ahead of you, you see a man dressed as a monk conversing with the blue haired person from earlier and before them is—

Your heart nearly stops: it’s Satoru Gojo, restrained and on his knees.

Honestly, you can’t make heads or tails of the conversation they’re having; it’s more shounen battle manga nonsense. Satoru Gojo doesn’t seem to be enjoying their conversation either, and he interrupts them, clearly annoyed.

“Are we gonna do this or what?” he asks. “The view sucks and I’m just kinda bored.”

“I wanted to enjoy this sight for a little bit longer, but you are right,” the monk says. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen— gate, close.”

When he says that, Satoru Gojo’s restraints move, the weirdly shaped cubes at the ends of them closing in around him, trapping him in a giant red cube. It starts to shrink until it’s small enough to fit in the monk’s hand.

You gulp and hope they don’t notice that you’re awake. The fact that they haven’t slaughtered the rest of the people standing around you is a good sign, but you don’t want to find out what happens if they know you’re cognizant.

It’s not hard to play the part of a living statue, especially when you compare it to everything else you’ve had to suffer through on this night. You watch as the monk’s allies, the ones who had attacked everyone on the platform, wake up, but before they can do or say anything, the box holding Satoru Gojo slips through the monk’s fingers and makes a dent in the concrete. The look on the monk’s face makes it clear that it’s a problem he wasn’t expecting.

You don’t know a damn thing about Satoru Gojo, but you feel like this kind of thing is the norm for him.

The blue haired person suddenly looks in your direction and you nearly stop breathing. Have they noticed you? It takes everything in you to keep perfectly still, in hopes that maybe they didn't, that maybe they’re looking at something else. They raise their arm and it extends, their hand acting like some kind of projectile. You almost shut your eyes and brace yourself for impact, but their hand flies upwards and hits something on the ceiling, destroying it.

Inwardly, you breathe a sigh of relief— you’re still safe.

For now.

You listen to their following conversation and while you still don’t fully understand everything, it’s clear they’re talking about what to do next since they’ve taken care of Satoru Gojo. Something having to do with someone named Yuji Itadori? The group seems split on what to do about him but it’s clear he’s their next target.

Eventually, everyone but the monk (you heard the blue haired person, who is apparently named Mahito, call him Geto?) runs off, probably to find this Yuji Itadori person. Once they’re gone, Geto speaks and, at first, you think he’s talking to you, but it becomes clear he’s addressing someone else. “Those cursed spirits are actually smarter than the two of you.”

“Give him back!” a voice hidden among the crowd hisses. Your blood runs cold at the sound. You recognize it; it’s one of the high school girls from the upper floor.

“We cooperated with you fully and kept dropping monkeys for you,” says another voice; it must be the other girl that was with her, the one who hung all those people.

“Now give us back Master Geto’s body like you promised!”

“Don’t toy with Master Geto any further than you have!”

You blink in confusion. Isn’t the monk named Geto? The way the girls are talking it sounds like they’re talking about someone else… Is it possible that the body is ‘Geto’ but the person they’re talking to is someone else possessing it? It sounds kind of crazy, but then again, so is every single thing you’ve experienced tonight.

Your suspicions concerning this ‘Geto’ are confirmed only seconds later as he says, “Now begone, or is it your desire to be killed by this body?”

One of the girls vows her revenge and you hear shuffling somewhere else in the crowd as they scurry away. Now you think it’s just you and whoever it is that’s puppeting Geto’s body. You see him plop down in front of the box (the prison realm, you think he’d called it) that’s holding Satoru Gojo.

“You can come out, you know,” he says after a while.

You freeze. The rest of the platform is completely silent. This time you think he might actually be talking to you.

“I know you’re there,” ‘Geto’ adds, his voice casual. “If you’re insistent on hiding, you should know that I’m not afraid of using whatever means necessary to smoke you out.”

Given everything his allies have done, there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s serious. You were hoping to hide out among the crowd until he decided to leave, but it looks like you won’t be able to now.

Looks like this loop is a bust after all.

Your heart starts to race as you weave your way through the crowd. In every single one of your loops, you were always treated like a bit character, never noticed or singled out by any of the major players of the night. Although this is your first time encountering this ‘Geto’ it’s clear to you that he’s involved with everything that’s happened here and honestly, you get the feeling he might actually be the mastermind behind the massacre.

That makes you even more nervous.

You come to a stop in the place where Satoru Gojo was once kneeling before he was put in that box. Now that you’re out in the open, ‘Geto’ looks you over with some sort of nonchalant curiosity.

“You’re…” he starts, sounding thoughtful, "not a sorcerer, are you?”

Sorcerer. You heard that term thrown around by him and his group a few times. It’s what they’ve been referring to their enemies as. It probably wouldn’t be smart to lie and say you are one; you get the feeling he’d see through your lie anyway. “I’m not.”

He hums. “How interesting.”

“...what do you mean?” you ask before you can help yourself.

“It’s just you have an abnormally large amount of cursed energy for a non-sorcerer,” he explains. “Though, I suppose that all just sounds like gibberish to you."

You nod and look down at the box lodged in the floor. It has eyes, big creepy looking eyes. "...are you going to do the same thing to me as you did to that man?"

He laughs, "...fortunately for you, the prison realm only holds one person at a time and I need him sealed away more than you."

"...does that mean you're going to leave him in there forever?"

"If I'm feeling nice, I might unseal him in a hundred years or so."

One hundred years? At this point, you've probably lived roughly that amount of time through your loops alone, but for Satoru Gojo… "Won't he die first?"

"Only if he decides to," 'Geto' says, looking completely and wholly unbothered. "Time doesn't doesn't flow in the box, so when I unseal him, he'll be the same as he was just now. Physically anyway. Who knows how deteriorated his mind will be after all that."

Time doesn't flow in the box.

The words echo in your mind over and over. Time doesn't flow in the box. In other words, that means time has stopped in the box, and if that's the case then—

"Anyway, rather than worry about him, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself?"

You look at 'Geto' and he's smiling at you, it's friendly, but ominous. There's no doubt what is going to happen next, though you had already resigned yourself to this iteration being a bust; it was only a matter of time.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I was thinking I might keep you around, even if you aren’t a sorcerer, your wealth of cursed energy would serve my plans well," he muses. "But… it would be too much trouble trying to teach you how to use it in time."

As he talks, you realize this is probably the first time your death is intentional— every other death you've suffered has just been a byproduct of the ongoing slaughter. You were just another casualty, a victim, never a target.

You're scared.

Even though you know that once he kills you, once you die, you'll just loop back to around 8:30 again. You'll be on the platform again. And you'll play out some sequence of events before you eventually die again. And again and again.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

"I'll be nice, though," 'Geto' says, raising a hand and another monster appears out of nowhere. You don’t even bother trying to figure out from where. It doesn’t matter, especially since this monster will surely be the one to end your life. "I'll make it painless."

"...I appreciate it," you say and close your eyes hoping that he's not lying about it.

Time doesn't flow in the box.

He didn't lie.

You die again.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you're trapped.

You don't know how and you don't know why, but you are stuck in a time loop— forced to suffer through the horrific events of the night before you die and begin it all again. It's been a long time since you stopped counting how many loops you've gone through, but if you had to guess, it's probably somewhere in the hundreds now.

You are so very tired.

But it doesn't stop. It won't stop no matter what you seem to do. You are stuck. You are trapped. You are doomed.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

Ever since that first loop where you heard whoever is possessing Geto's body say that, the words have been stuck in your head, playing on loop.

You finally realize why.

“Time doesn't flow in the box.”

It's 8:25PM when you wake up; that should be plenty of time.

You need to find Satoru Gojo.

After hundreds of loops you've come to a singular conclusion: you need to prevent him being sealed in the prison realm. You've witnessed it enough to know that you won't be able to do it alone; you'll need his cooperation.

You rush upstairs as fast as you can, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine as you step onto the stairwell. According to your previous loops, Satoru Gojo arrives on the subway tracks at 8:40PM. With how crowded the upper floor is, you don’t know if you’ll have the time to intercept him and talk to him, but if you can at least figure out where to find him, then you can try and talk to him during a subsequent loop.

When you reach the fourth basement floor, however, you don’t know where you should even start. He’s pretty tall so you think you could spot him in the crowd, but… there are still so many people. It occurs to you that maybe it would be better to try and look from a higher vantage point so you head to the stairs that lead up to the third basement floor. You check your phone again. It’s 8:35PM; you need to hurry.

Luckily for you, you find him very easily on the third basement floor.

The only problem is that he’s in a hard to reach spot— squatting above a sign hanging over the crowd.

You check your phone again. It’s 8:38PM and he’s starting to move, presumably to meet with those waiting for him on the subway tracks. It’s good that you found him, but there’s no doubt about it.

You’re going to need more time.

The moment you wake up, you immediately bolt toward the stairs. It's taken many, many more loops, but you've finally brought the time you wake down to around 8:15. You're still not sure if it's enough time, but there's only one way to find out.

You barrel your way up to the next floor and zig zag through the crowd to get to the next flight of stairs. By the time you get to your destination, you're completely out of breath, your chest heaving as your lungs clamor for air. You’ve done this so many times, yet your body acts like it’s always the first. It sucks, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You slow to a brisk pace to catch your breath and check the time. It’s 8:27— a new record. Hopefully it’ll be enough.

The goal is to catch Satoru Gojo before he moves to his lookout point above the crowd. While not impossible, it would be difficult for you to follow him there. You eye the safety barricade that blocks off the area where he’ll be moving in just a few minutes warily.

Yes, getting over there would be extremely difficult.

You don’t want to think about it right now; you’ll deal with it when the time comes.

Especially since Satoru Gojo has now entered your field of vision.

Your heart starts to race at the sight of him and it feels like it’s beating a million times a second. There isn’t a lot of time. You need to talk to him, but your legs only wobble, your feet planted firmly to the ground. This is not good. You need to move. You need to move.

Finally, after what feels like both an instant and an eternity, your feet finally budge, propelling you in Satoru Gojo’s direction. The beating of your heart only grows louder as you make your way toward him, mingling with the single thought that’s echoing throughout your mind right now: will he even hear you out?

You need to make him.

“Excuse me!” The words nearly come out in a stutter as you realize that you are actually talking to Satoru Gojo. You have watched this man at a distance for so long that it almost felt like he wasn’t real, like he was just another fixture in this nightmare that you’ve been living for far too long. And yet, here he is, right in front of you, in the flesh.

And his attention is on you.

All sound stops: the crowd around you, the thoughts in your head, the beat of your heart. Even though you cannot see them through that blindfold of his, you know that Satoru Gojo’s eyes are on you and the thought of that, the knowledge of it is actually a little overwhelming. Your mouth is dry and suddenly you don’t know what to say, but you need to say something. You need to say something before he thinks maybe you bumped into him by accident and just walks away without a word.

“I need to talk to you!” The words just burst out from your mouth and something about it is just absolutely embarrassing. You’re not sure if it's desperation or the fact that you haven’t really talked to anyone other than the existence occupying Suguru Geto’s body in nearly forever.

Satoru Gojo’s lips slowly start to form a smile, “Oh, yeah?”

The sound of his voice makes your mind go blank. There’s something different about it right now; more playful, amused even. Maybe it’s because he’s talking to you, a harmless human being and not a monster trying to kill him. It’s almost kind of jarring, but you know, with certainty, what Satoru Gojo’s voice sounds like. And the fact that he’s actually talking to you right now has you kind of excited. You nod, doing your best to not show how thrilled you are that he’s not ignoring you.

He hums thoughtfully, “Sorry… but unfortunately I kind of have some business to attend to right now.”

“I—” You start to say that you know that he’s headed down to the platform below to fight with…Choso and Jogo, you think their names are— you don’t know the name of the monster with the branches for eyes. “It’s— it’s really important!”

Gojo tilts his head a little, clearly thinking. You should probably say something else, something to try and convince him to stay a little longer and hear you out, but your mind is both full and blank. Where do you start? From the beginning? Or do you start with what is most important? Maybe you should say what you think will get his attention. You’re not sure, and you realize you really should have thought about this earlier because you’re running out of time right now.

“...mind handing me your phone?”

You stare at Gojo, completely and wholly confused, but he just holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t move, he wiggles his fingers a little, a silent gesture telling you to hurry it up. Without thinking, you reach into your bag and unlock your phone before handing it to him.

“Kind of sucks that cell service isn’t working right now,” he remarks as he types something into your phone before handing it back. “But! Here's my number.”

You look down at your phone and, sure enough, Satoru Gojo has added himself as one of your contacts. He’s even added a little star to the end of his name. That’s… a little unexpected. Why his number though?

“Are you… hitting on me?” you mutter in your confusion.

He laughs, “Well, you said you had something really important to talk to me about, right? So just give me a call when you get home or some time tomorrow and we can talk then!”

You’re not going to make it home, or even to tomorrow, and neither will Satoru Gojo. As you start to tell him this, he steps past you. Desperate, you try to grab him, but somehow, for some reason, you can’t. You remember he did this with Jogo and the other monster, made himself untouchable.

This is not good.

He gives you a little wave, cheery as he says, “I’ll talk to you later!”

You watch, helpless as he hops over the barricade beyond your reach.

Gripping your phone tightly, you take a deep breath. It's fine, it's not like you didn’t expect things to go well anyway.

You'll just have to try again.

Every time you’ve tried to solicit help from Satoru Gojo, it has gone the same way. He just won’t give you the time of day, and in some ways you can’t blame him; he’s clearly here to deal with the monsters down on the platform. You’re fairly certain that he probably thinks that whatever is going on with you is a much lesser issue in comparison.

Plus, it probably doesn’t help that in the times that you’ve approached him, you haven’t been able to articulate yourself particularly well. Once you start talking to him, you just get hit with something akin to stage fright and the connection between your mind and your mouth just stops working. It’s gotten better with each attempt, but…

It’s just so frustrating.

It is interesting that Gojo has given you his number every time, star symbol and all. You’re not sure what kind of person you were expecting him to be, but after witnessing him literally and viciously rip monsters apart, you’d figured he’d be a little more somber. However, in the fragmented conversations you’ve had with him he’s come off as far more friendly and playful than you would have thought. Is he the type of person to get more serious when the situation calls for it? You can’t help but wonder, but ultimately, it doesn’t really matter.

What really matters is that you’re able to convince him to help you.

You have to convince him.

“Excuse me!” you say, stepping in Satoru Gojo’s path. You don’t stutter this time, and your voice is more sure. This is good.

“Yes?”

His head turns in your direction and you gulp. Gojo’s gaze, despite that blindfold of his, still feels just as overwhelming as it did the very first time you approached him. You have no doubt that he’s sizing you up, but there’s just something about it that makes you feel like you’re being picked apart.

You take a deep breath and step closer to him, hoping your voice sounds firm enough as you say, “I need your help. I’m trapped.”

He chuckles a little, “I know, but yours truly is on his way to go beat up the bad guys keeping you all trapped here, so soon enough you’ll be all free to go on your merry little way.”

Right. You were so caught up in your own plight that you nearly forgot that technically you’re not the only one ‘trapped.’ Satoru Gojo obviously knows that everyone else is confined to this station, but you doubt he knows that you’re confined to this night alone.

“That’s not what I mean!” you sputter.

“Then what do you mean?” Gojo asks. Should you tell him that you mean that you’re trapped in a time loop? You’re honestly not sure— in the movies and manga you’ve read about time travel, revealing that sort of thing risks creating a time paradox which seems to be a bad thing. If you have to tell him, you will, but— “Oh, I get it.”

You stare, bewildered. Did you maybe just spew all of that aloud?

Gojo gives you a mischievous smile. “You’re hitting on me, aren’t you?”

“No!” The word comes flying out of your mouth. You can’t deny he’s attractive— you’ve thought it all this time, but that is not what’s happening here.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he continues, ignoring you. “I totally get it, so if you want, I’d be happy to give you my number!”

Again? You’ve received Satoru Gojo’s contact details in every loop you’ve talked to him, star symbol and all— you even have his number memorized. There’s something kind of odd about how he keeps giving you his number. Part of you wonders if he’s got some sort of ulterior motive, but you haven’t thought too deeply about it. There are way more important things going on.

“I don’t need your phone number,” you say. “I need to talk.”

Your response seems to give Gojo pause. Did you somehow manage to get through to him? No way. Your suspicions are all but confirmed when he gives you that familiar apologetic smile.

“Like, I said, I’m sort of in the middle of something, but…” Gojo reaches into his pockets and rummages around until one hand fishes out a folded up piece of paper. The other hand keeps digging around in his pocket and when Gojo seems to give up on whatever he’s looking for, he turns his attention back to you. “Got a pen?”

What?

Gojo tilts his head. “Well?”

“I do, but…” You trail off, unsure why he’s asking.

He holds out his hand waiting for you to just hand him the pen. You still don’t get it, but you reach into your bag’s front pocket and pull out the pen and hand it to him. Gojo looks almost like an excited child when he takes it from you, quickly scribbling something onto his paper before shoving it and your pen back into your hand.

You look at the paper; it looks like a receipt. For a disturbing amount of mochi that Gojo bought earlier today. The amount of money he spent is almost sickening; way too much to be paying for mochi. More importantly, you notice something juxtaposed over the receipt’s print.

It’s Satoru Gojo’s name and number.

He even drew a little star next to his name.

“If you change your mind later, just give me a call!” he tells you cheerily. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while!”

You gawk at him. He cannot be serious. You literally just told him that you didn’t need it and yet he still gave it to you. He must want you to contact him later, but you can’t even begin to understand why. It can’t have been something you said or did, right? Unless, he’s actually—

“Later!” Gojo’s voice cuts through your thoughts and you notice him walking off with a wave.

You can’t let him get away.

Again.

You crush the receipt in your hand and rush after him. Despite the crowd, Gojo seems to move through the people with ease and it almost seems like they are yielding to him naturally. It’s good for you. Makes him easier to chase.

“Wait!” you yell, but Gojo doesn’t even look back. Bastard. Your muscles strain as you try to run faster. You know you won’t be able to grab him if you get to him, but there has to still be something you can do to stop him. Circle around him? Cut him off before he—

Satoru Gojo reaches the barricade.

“Wait!” you yell again. “Satoru Gojo, wait!”

He does not even acknowledge you.

You’re almost there though. Almost. If you reach out your hand, then maybe, maybe you can grab him. Something in your head tells you that it’s useless; you’ve never been able to touch him. But, you don’t care, you don’t care because you have to try. You stretch out your hand, desperate and hoping, but just as you do, Gojo effortlessly jumps over the barricade, moving to survey the crowd.

Due to your momentum, you almost collide into the barricade, but you manage to stop yourself. You stare at Satoru Gojo through the glass. He watches the crowd for at most three minutes. Is this just another bust? Is there really nothing you can do? There must be a way you can get his attention. Is it possible to climb over the barricade? No, it’s too high. There’s nothing you can grasp onto or use as footing either.

This fucking sucks.

Another minute or two and Gojo will be on the move again, and there will be no way you can follow, no way you can get his attention. You press your hands against the glass, pushing against it. Naturally, it doesn’t budge. Why would it? If only you could get it out of the way. If only you could break it. This stupid barricade is the only thing between you and Satoru Gojo and there’s no way you can climb it, but if only you could break it.

If only you could fucking break it.

Suddenly, the glass feels warm. Satoru Gojo’s image starts to look a little distorted as the warmth beneath your fingers grows. Something is happening. The glass starts to vibrate and shake. Violently. The tremors grow stronger and stronger. You should stop. You should back away.

You don’t.

The barricade starts to crack and fracture and soon the sound of shattering glass resounds throughout the entire room. Everyone starts screaming. No one knows what’s going on— not even you. But you don’t care. It’s gone. The barricade is gone.

You take a step forward, toward Satoru Gojo. He’s on a beam that’s about a two meter drop from where you’re standing. That’s fine. That’s okay. You can make it. You have to. Without a second thought, you jump—

And you land on the beam. You look up and Satoru Gojo’s attention is back on you. He’s finally, finally turned toward you, face twisted into an expression you can’t decipher or even comprehend, but—

Something’s wrong; your world is turning on its axis, but—

Satoru Gojo is looking at you, and—

Up is very quickly becoming down, and—

Satoru Gojo is coming closer, but—

You’re slipping—

But he’s right there, and—

You’re falling, but—

He’s trying to catch you, but—

It’s too late. It’s too late.

The last thing you think you feel—

—is Satoru Gojo’s arms around you.

It’s October 31, 2018— Halloween in Shibuya.

And you are causing a commotion.

“Shit! Fuck!” you curse loudly. The people near you start to shift away but you barely notice; you don’t really care.

You were so close, so fucking close and yet… yet here you are again. It’s quarter past eight and you are back on the goddamn platform. You don’t know what happened; you remember falling and thinking you were going to die, but you are absolutely certain that, once again, this time, you didn’t die.

Is Satoru Gojo at fault again? Did he do something? Like he did all those other times you looped without dying? When you think about it more, you don’t think so. You don’t know what happened; all you know is that you tried to get to him, but you slipped.

And he caught you, you definitely remember that.

You still don’t understand why you looped, but there’s not much you can do about it now; it’s not like you can go back anymore. It just sucks, because you think he might have actually listened if you’d talked to him.

Or he would have come after you for… whatever happened with the barricade. It could have been taken as an attack on the crowd… But if he thought you were doing that, then why would he catch you?

You don’t know.

All you know is that you have to try again.

The only problem is that you don’t know how you managed to shatter the barricade. You think about it as you make your way up to where you’ll find Satoru Gojo. There is the possibility that it wasn’t you and something else happened to it instead, but that feels way too coincidental. It had to be you. That’s the only thing that makes sense. You just can’t figure out how you did it outside of wanting, wishing, praying for the barricade to break. It’s not like you have supernatural powers like Satoru Gojo and his enemies.

Despite your mind being completely and wholly occupied by trying to figure out how in the world you managed to break through that barricade, you still manage to make it to the second basement floor of Shibuya Hikarie by 8:25PM— a brand new record. Satoru Gojo doesn’t show up until around 8:34PM, so that gives you almost ten minutes to try and figure out what you need to do to try and replicate shattering the glass barricade again.

Except—

Except Satoru Gojo is already here.

The thought that maybe you’re mistaken flashes in your mind before it’s quickly dismissed; there’s no way you’d mistake anyone else for him. There is absolutely no denying it: that is Satoru Gojo. Bewildered, you double check the time on your phone. Maybe you misread it and you’re actually late but sure enough you read it right— Satoru Gojo is here early.

What the hell is going on?

Of the thousands of times you have experienced this night, this hell, this sort of thing has never happened before. Everything happens at a specific time, as if adhering to an unseen schedule. It’s likely that what happened in your last iteration did delay Satoru Gojo’s arrival onto the platform, but other than that there has never been a deviation to the time table.

And yet, here Satoru Gojo is, nine minutes early now.

You realize that that’s not the only thing that’s strange: he’s not moving. In previous rounds, when you encounter Gojo here, he’s walking to the lookout spot beyond the barricade. But, right now, he’s just standing there, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. It almost looks like he's waiting for something.

Or someone.

This unexpected turn of events has you rooted to the spot. You’re not sure what you should do. No. This shouldn’t change anything. You need to talk to him. As concerning as a change like this is, the extra time it gives you should be a good thing. Despite knowing that, your feet are still firmly planted to the ground.

The crowd shifts and you see Satoru Gojo start to move. Toward the barricade? No. He’s not heading in his usual direction, rather he’s—

You stop breathing.

He’s headed toward you.

He comes to a stop before you, lips curled up to form an amused sort of smile as he says, “Soooo, you needed to talk to me?”

You try to answer but no words come out of your mouth. Are you dreaming? You have to be, right? There's no way that this is actually happening. Could it be that, after thousands of loops, you’ve finally lost it? Your mind shattering along with the glass of the barricade at the end of the last one?

Gojo tilts his head, indicating that he's still waiting for an answer. When you open your mouth, at first, nothing comes out, the words stuck in your throat. You force them out, your voice cracking, “...how did you know?”

He smiles, looking almost mischievous as he reaches up and lightly taps the side of his head. “I remembered, of course!”

All you can do is stare at Satoru Gojo. He remembered? How is that possible? From his perspective, this is the first time you’ve met and while it shouldn’t be possible for him to remember there’s something in your mind that’s keeping you from completely dismissing the possibility.

Gojo laughs, “I take it from the look on your face that you’re not used to this sort of thing happening. Is this the first time?”

“No.” The fact that the word is out of your mouth before you can even really think about it surprises you and you really have to think. Your face scrunches together as you try to remember. Is this really not the first time? Then, the memories assault you, overlapping as they replay simultaneously in your head— a woman in a yellow and white magical girl costume— begging you for help as she burns to death— smiling as she tells you she made her costume herself. “...it happened just once a long time ago.”

“‘A long time ago,’ huh. Sounds like you've been at this for a while now.”

“...unfortunately.”

Gojo hums. “So when you said you didn’t need my phone number…”

“You’d already given it to me a few times,” you say, figuring that’s where this conversation is going.

“Really now?”

Does he not believe you? Or is he just being an ass? You’re not sure, but since you had taken the liberty of memorizing Satoru Gojo’s phone number you recite it back to him to prove your point.

Just when you think you may have stunned Gojo into silence he starts to laugh, obviously finding something funny about the fact that you know his cell phone number. “Seems like you've got quite the fascinating technique there.”

Technique? What is he talking about? Your confusion must be plain on your face because he adds, elaborating, “The time travel.”

You continue to stare at him. You don't think you'd consider what you've been going through time travel, because traveling implies moving from point A to point B, but you've been stuck walking in circles at point A for a long time. What really gets you is… “What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“You mean you don’t— oh. I get it; no wonder you’re trapped.”

That does not answer your question in the slightest. “Can you please explain what you're talking about? What do you mean by ‘technique?’”

“Right, right… So basically, a technique is like a special sort of power,” he finally explains. “Like I said, your technique seems to be a kind of time travel. Whenever you activate it, your mind is sent back in time.”

What he's saying makes sense, but… “How come you were sent back too?”

He laughs again. “Isn't it obvious? Think back to before— do you remember that I caught you as you were falling?”

You nod slowly. The memory of his arms around you is almost embarrassingly vivid. “...is it because we were touching?”

“Ding, ding, ding! That's correct! Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!”

Something about his tone annoys you, but you try to ignore it. He could have just told you rather than make you guess. “How do you know that for sure?”

“Well,” he continues. “You’ve done your little time loop a bunch of times, right? If your technique affected everyone, or even a few people in a select range you would have noticed for sure. And if it affected only just you then we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now, now would we?”

When you think about it, you do think that the woman in the magical girl costume might have bumped into you before the loop where she remembered.

“That’s honestly just conjecture, but I've got pretty good eyes, so I’m hardly ever wrong.”

Gojo gives you a grin and while you do think that his reasoning is sound enough his confidence is a little grating. More than that, though, you’re glad that this conversation is actually going really well.

“Either way,” he says thoughtfully. “It doesn’t look like you can control your technique. Usually a person’s technique manifests when they’re a kid, but you seem to be a special case… in fact, I bet your technique activated for the very first time tonight— probably under some pretty extreme circumstances, too.”

“...dying counts as an ‘extreme circumstance,’ right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Or legitimately thinking that you’re gonna die, but it seems like your body has been unconsciously activating your technique as a sort of defense mechanism. Which is why you’re trapped.”

“So, if I could control it I’d be able to make it out of this time loop.”

“Yeah, but in this case it probably wouldn’t end very well for you,” he points out with a chuckle. “It’s not like you actually want to die, right? I mean, if you did, then your technique wouldn’t even activate in the first place.”

You don’t; what you want is for this night to finally end. To be free from the endless cycle of dying over and over again and again. You don’t think death is quite the answer; even if you were to learn how to control this supposed technique of yours, there’s no guarantee that you would just unconsciously activate it when the grim reaper comes knocking on your door. No, the answer is…

“Anyway!” Gojo’s cheery voice cuts through your thoughts. “I highly doubt that you’re the type that makes a habit of jumping off ledges for the funsies, so the fact that you’ve been dying tells me that some pretty gruesome stuff is about to go down, so, tell me what happens tonight.”

The sudden drop of his voice sends a shiver running down your spine. If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve seen how serious Gojo can get, the sudden shift in demeanor would probably freak you out a bit, but it doesn’t. This is the Satoru Gojo you’re familiar with.

You do have one concern though. “That… won’t create a time paradox or anything, will it?”

“Nah,” Gojo shrugs. “You wouldn’t cause one with the way your technique works, besides, if you’ve only been going back at most an hour or two in time it’s hard to believe you’d be making a really big impact… unless you really believe in the butterfly effect.”

You’re still not quite sure.

“Trust me, it’ll be fine.”

His voice sounds strange. Gentle. Kind. It's the most soothing thing you've heard in a long time and it makes you want to believe him.

“...okay.”

Anxiety is still gripping at you, but you try to dispel it, taking a deep breath before beginning your explanation. For the sake of brevity, it’s probably best that you’re as concise as possible. There isn’t much need to really get into the nitty gritty of things unless he asks specifically.

Naturally, you begin with his arrival onto the platform and how soon after a fight breaks out and how the crowd is unfortunate enough to be involved. Gojo’s expression is passive for the most part, but he does crack the faintest hint of a smile when you mention how he manages to eviscerate one of the monsters.

It disappears once you tell him about the arrival of the train. Between the dozens upon dozens of people being dropped onto the platform by those two high school girls and the hoard of monsters disembarking from the train, everything devolves into pandemonium.

“Wait,” Gojo holds a hand up and you pause. This is his first interruption since you started recounting the night’s events for him. “Everyone is able to see the monsters?”

You stare at him. What a weird question. “...yeah?”

His mouth twists and it looks like he’s thinking about something. You can’t even begin to imagine what. Finally, he comments, “Makes sense.”

It does not, but you don’t ask him to elaborate. Surely if it was important he would have just done so.

“Anyway, in the middle of all that, you… you do something.” Your brows bunch together as you remember the stance Gojo took, the crazed and desperate look in his eyes, the feeling of your head about to explode. “I don’t know how to describe it. At first, it would just force me to… activate my technique, I guess. But now, it just knocks me out for a few minutes.”

Gojo frowns and he rubs at his chin, obviously thinking about what you’ve said. Eventually, he raises a hand and bends his fingers into a familiar gesture. It’s the one that preludes whatever he does on the platform. “Do I do this?”

“Yeah.”

He hums. “Interesting.”

You wait to see if he’ll explain. He doesn’t. Great. Even if he doesn’t think you need to know, it certainly would be nice to. It’s annoying otherwise, but you ignore the feeling and continue. “I can’t tell you what happens when I’m knocked out, but when I come to everyone is basically a zombie and all the monsters from the train are gone. I think you kill them.”

“I probably do,” he says casually. “But what about Volcano Head?”

“...you don't…get a chance to kill him,” you say slowly. Gojo tilts his head, waiting for you to elaborate, but you hesitate. You have to tell him, you know you do, but…

You have seen the interaction so many times and though you don't know the exact nature of the relationship between them, you can tell that seeing Suguru Geto (or rather seeing his body) shook Satoru Gojo to his very core.

There's no doubt in your mind that he will not take this news well.

“Come on now,” Gojo's tone is light-hearted, unaware. “Don't keep me in suspense here.”

It's as if you're withholding the punchline to a joke. In a way, you suppose you are, but you don't think he's going to find it funny.

You take a deep breath. You need to tell him. The worst thing that could happen is that he doesn't believe you, but if that's the case… you'll probably just end up repeating this all again until you find a loop where he does.

Having made it this far, you'd like to avoid all that.

“Before you can get Volcano Head you get restrained by something called the prison realm,” you say slowly, “by someone calling themselves… Suguru Geto.”

The second the name leaves your mouth, there is a clear and obvious shift in the air. Gone is Gojo’s laid-back and frivolous demeanor, replaced with something more somber and almost frightening. The tension grows more and more palpable to the point that you think it might almost choke you.

You almost wish that it would.

“You can’t be serious,” Gojo finally says, once your words have fully sunk in.

“I—” You start to speak, but come to an abrupt stop when you see him shove his hand into his pocket to yank out his phone of all things.

The both of you know full well that there’s no reception here, but you don’t think that he’s planning on making any calls. Gojo scrolls and scrolls on his phone before he stops and shoves the screen in your face. It shows a picture of three people— a teenage girl with a cigarette in her mouth, a younger, happier version of Gojo sporting a pair of round sunglasses and—

“When you say ‘Geto’ is this who you’re referring to?” Gojo demands, using his other hand to point at the third person in the frame— a handsome young man with long dark hair pulled up into a bun.

“Yes, but—”

“That’s impossible. It can’t be him,” Gojo interrupts, his voice firm, cold even. “He’s dead.”

There’s a note of finality in his words that is definitely meant to leave no room for argument. It doesn’t stop you, though. Instead, you glare at Gojo’s stupid blindfold and say, “...being dead doesn’t mean a damn thing! I’ve died hundreds of times and yet I’m still fucking here, but—”

“Your situation is different,” he interjects, the temperature of his tone hiking up, his words like heated hissing. “I killed him almost a year ago. There's no way—”

“You didn't get rid of the body properly!” You cut him off, raising your voice in hopes that he'll take even just a second to stop and listen. It seems to work and you add something you remember ‘Geto’ saying. “You should have had Shoko Ieiri get rid of it, but you didn’t and now some… some kind of gross brain thing is possessing the corpse!”

The air between you both is silent as the grave. Though you can't see it, you can feel the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. He’s definitely having second thoughts about everything you’ve said so far. There’s a chance he might even think you’re his enemy now. You stare him down though, refusing to look away. You’ve made it this far, you can’t— you won’t back down.

“...you’re not lying, are you.” Gojo’s words are more of a statement than a question. There’s no doubt in your mind that he knows the answer, and yet he’s still asking. You wonder if maybe he’s clinging onto some vain hope that maybe, just maybe this all a sick, cruel joke that’s gone way too far.

“I’m not.”

Gojo holds your gaze for a second longer before he lets out a curse. “Fuck!”

“...I’m sorry,” you say quietly, mostly because it feels like the most correct thing to say at this moment. You don’t know the whole story, but it seems like they were close. If so, then it must have hurt Gojo a lot to have killed him, and must hurt even more to know that someone is desecrating the body. You hate that you, a complete and utter stranger, happened to be the person to tell him, but…

It had to be done, for the sake of getting past this unending night, it had to be done.

Gojo runs a hand through his hair and lets out a ragged sigh. “Okay. What happens after that?”

You give him a rundown of what follows; he gets sealed, the monsters wake up and all but ‘Geto’ leave in search of their next target. When you mention the high school girls demanding the brain give Geto’s body back, Gojo snorts loudly.

“Fat chance of that,” he says derisively.

You nod in agreement. It was clear to you that the brain parasite has no intent on giving it up any time soon. “After they leave, he… talks to me.”

“Probably couldn't ignore all that cursed energy you have,” Gojo remarks offhandedly.

You stare at him, expression twisted in a way that shows that you have absolutely no clue what that means. It should be fine for you to ask this one question; it actually concerns you after all. “What does that even mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, though… probably doesn't make much sense to you, does it?”

You give him a pointed glare and all Gojo does is laugh.

“Just think of it like having a lot of MP.”

“...Like in a video game?”

“Exactly!” Then, Gojo tilts his head, clearly thinking. You don't bother asking; you don't feel like he'll explain.

“He does ask me if I'm a sorcerer, whatever that is. Is that why?”

“Probably. Ordinary people don't have even a fraction of the energy you're packing.”

‘Ordinary people’ he says as if you’re not an ordinary person who got caught up in all this supernatural sorcery bullshit. Or at least you were, but if the time loops are really a product of your own doing…

“Does he kill you when you answer?” Gojo asks to get the conversation back on track.

“Not right away. What happens next kind of varies,” you answer. “He usually lets me have a question or two before he kills me; I've asked him a couple different things.”

“Really taking advantage, aren’t you?” Gojo says and you're not sure what to make of his tone. Is he mocking you or is he easing back into that laid-back persona of his?

“If I’m doomed to repeat the same situation over and over, I might as well make the most of it,” you respond flatly.

“You know, your technique kind of reminds me of save scumming.”

He’s definitely gone back to acting almost completely unserious— all signs of his earlier agitation are nearly gone.

“So what did you learn?”

“Well, the prison realm only holds one occupant. Once they’re sealed, time stops for them and the only way out is if the bearer unseals them or if they choose to kill themselves.”

“I see… And what about our body jacker?”

“He didn’t go into detail but he said something about… striving toward the evolution of mankind?” You frown a little at the memory. He didn’t explain further because he said that you wouldn’t understand.

“Huh. Interesting. Wonder how he was gonna go about doing that.”

“I don't know, but I can't imagine you'd like it since he goes out of his way to seal you into that box,” you say. “Said you’d get in the way because you’re too strong.”

Gojo shrugs his shoulders and grins a little. Cocky. “Well, I am the strongest sorcerer around, you know.”

You would think him overconfident if you hadn't seen the magnitude of his strength first hand.

“Anyway, that's as far as I ever go. When he's decided he’s done talking to me, he kills me and I loop back.”

“So, in short, what you want help with is getting past that point, right?”

“More or less.”

“And all I have to do is avoid getting caught by the prison realm?”

You nod.

“What’s it look like?” he asks. “A big cage with a bunch of metal bars?”

Now that you think about it, you haven’t woken up early enough to see it before it traps him, but you can’t imagine it looks that much different. “No.. It’s a small box with eyes… It gets big enough to fit you in it, though.”

“Huh.” He stretches his arms out above his head as if he’s trying to emphasize how large he actually is and shoots you a grin. “Should be easy enough then. I bet our body snatcher used the shock of seeing Suguru to trap me but since I'll see it coming, avoiding it'll be a piece of cake.”

Gojo makes it sound so easy, and maybe it really is as simple as that, but you can't help but be worried still.

“Don't tell me you don't think I can do it,” he says, tilting his head.

“It's not that,” you admit. “I'm just concerned I might die before we can get to that point.”

Truthfully, since you know that will just result in another loop you're less concerned with dying itself and more worried about losing the progress you've made in convincing Gojo to help you. Even though it's been clearly proven you can loop him as well, there's no guarantee you'll be able to make the physical contact needed to do it upon death.

“You've made it pretty far on your own, though, right?”

“Yeah, but… I’ve messed up plenty of times.” More than you can even count. “There's also the possibility that taking the time to talk to you might have thrown things out of whack.”

Speaking of time, you check your phone. It's 8:39PM. You curse.

Gojo leans over to check your phone. “Let me guess, I'm supposed to be somewhere right now.”

“Yeah, this is when you’re descending down onto the platform.”

“You know where I am down to the exact minute?” He asks and you tilt your head back and forth a little. It’s not exact per se, but it’s close enough. Gojo chuckles a little. “Man, I didn’t realize that you were actually that into me.”

That earns Gojo a glare from you, but he just laughs it off. “I doubt being a few minutes late is going to make a big difference.”

You certainly hope so.

“Don't worry,” Gojo says and you notice he's using that tone from earlier. “You won't die.”

It’s hard to argue with him when he uses such a reassuring sounding voice and yet, you still open your mouth to try— to voice your doubts, but what he says next silences you before you even can.

“I'll protect you.”

You think your heart stops beating in your chest and your words dissolve in your throat.

He grins at you. “Did you fall in love with me just now?”

That catches you a little off guard. You're willing to admit he's hot, but surely he must be joking. “How could you even think of something like that at a time like this?”

Gojo laughs again. “Well, since someone is so worried about their time table being all messed up, I better head down there; can’t keep Volcano Head and friends waiting, right?”

You blink. Is that it? “Wait, shouldn’t we make a plan or something?”

“Isn’t the plan for me to not get caught in the prison realm?”

Yes, but… “But what about me? Is there anything I can do?”

Gojo stares at you, or at least you think he does. “...I don’t know, is there?”

You’ve seen the encounter between Satoru Gojo and those monsters so many times and you try to picture a version of it where you intervene and… all you can see is yourself getting in his way. You’re no fighter, no… sorcerer, or whatever he is, you’re just some ordinary person that was unfortunate enough to get all caught up in this mess. The most you can probably do is kick the prison realm out of the way when the time comes, but otherwise… “...no, I guess not.”

His expression turns sympathetic. “You’ve done plenty by telling me everything that happens. So just wait up here, and let me handle the monsters.”

You almost nod. Almost. But then you remember what transpires up here above the platform. You know it sounds safer up here where you’re less likely to get involved in the carnage, but… “Wait, no, if I stay up here then I’ll fall to my death when those girls—”

Gojo laughs, interrupting you. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll be fine.”

“How?”

“Just trust me.”

“I…” It’s hard to. After everything you’ve gone through it’s hard to trust in anything, to believe in anything. Even though you’ve made it this far this time, the worry that something will go wrong and that you’ll have to do it all again still lurks in the back of your mind.

Despite all that, you want to believe.

You want to believe that you can make it past this unending night, that one day you’ll wake up and it’ll no longer be October 31, 2018. And the first step towards that is trusting in Satoru Gojo.

“...okay,” you say quietly. “Okay.”

Gojo chuckles then asks, “Anything else before I head off?”

You start to ask if there’s anything you should say, in case things don’t work out, but you stop yourself. You’re choosing to trust him, to believe in him— you can figure out that stuff later if things end up going south after all. So, instead you give him a smile and it feels a little weird because you don’t remember the last time you did. “Good luck!”

For a split second, Gojo looks almost surprised, but then he laughs again, beaming widely at you. He starts to move past you and reaches out to give you what you think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze of the shoulder and then he’s off. You turn to watch him go, the crowd, once again, parting almost naturally for him.

When he reaches the barricade, he pauses, raising his hand as if he’s giving you one last wave. Then he jumps over it onto his little perch and then less than a minute later he’s gone, descending to the platform below.

Now, all you can do is wait.

You check your phone again and it’s 8:44PM. If you remember correctly, the high school girls start threatening everyone right before 9PM. With Gojo’s arrival being shifted back almost five minutes, does that mean that they’ll be shifted back too? It would make sense, but you’re not too sure.

Out of habit, you keep checking your phone and at nearly 9PM, you hear the shrill voice of one of the girls over the crowd, commanding everyone to do what she says, her partner stringing up bodies until everyone listens. Everything plays out just as you remember it, which is mildly comforting, though you know that the events that happen up here are more or less independent from what happens below.

Surely, just as Gojo said, a few minutes aren’t going to change anything, but—

No.

You agreed to trust him. To trust that everything would be fine.

When the girls start to demand that as many people as possible climb onto the roots and vines covering the atrium your heart starts to hammer in your chest. In just a few minutes, all the foliage will disintegrate beneath you, and you and everyone else here will fall into the abyss below.

You are afraid.

There isn’t a single loop where you’ve really survived this fall. If you don’t die in midair, you die right after landing. It’s a death trap, and that’s why you’ve stopped coming up here. There’s a part of you, the part that knows what’s about to happen, that wants to try and run back onto stable footing. But you can’t, because you know if you do then the girls will kill you for sure; you have to stay.

It’ll be fine, you tell yourself, it’ll be okay.

You just have to trust Gojo.

An eight car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line.

You hear the announcement faintly below you. It’s almost time. You brace yourself and try to stay calm. Gojo said he would protect you, that you wouldn’t die. You don’t know how he intends to keep that promise, but all you can do is believe in his words.

It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.

The vines and roots start to crack and the ground beneath you starts to give out. You squeeze your eyes shut as that sickening weightless feeling overtakes you. It occurs to you that this is actually quite literally a trust fall— will Satoru Gojo really be able to catch you?

As you fall, you realize almost instantly that something is different.

You’ve experienced this fall dozens of times and so, even though it has been a while since you’ve gone this route, you are very familiar with what it feels like. Something is different. You’re falling faster. The trajectory is changing. It’s like some force, other than gravity, is pulling at you.

Is this Gojo’s doing?

Just as your body collides with the ground you hear the sounds of mutilating flesh meld with the screams surrounding you. Blood and severed limbs litter the ground, but you try to ignore it. You need to focus on your own survival right now. Quickly, you scramble to your feet scan the area around you; you’re on the platform right now and right in front of you is—

Right in front of you is Satoru Gojo.

His back is turned to you, his focus currently elsewhere. Looking at him you realize you recognize this scene, though it’s much closer and at a different angle. He’s about to do that thing, that thing that knocks you out.

Something in you tells you to move closer to him, after all, he used his mysterious powers to deliberately bring you closer to him, right? You rush toward him and as you do something he said earlier pops up in your mind.

Anyone you happen to be touching when you activate your technique gets affected by it too!

Whatever he’s about to do… Is that his ‘technique?’ And if it is, would it work the same way as yours? If so, there’s only one way to find out: you need to touch him. You dodge monsters and other people as you run toward Satoru Gojo and—

A monster still manages to grab you, its large hands wrapping around your wrist. You try and yank it free, but it's much stronger than you are.

“Shit!” you hiss as the monster starts to pull you toward it and away from Gojo. What do you do? Your other hand is still free, should you try to punch it in the face? Or—

Before you can do anything, something blasts the monster’s head clean off. Shocked, you stare as the monster’s body slumps onto the ground, its grip loosening on you instantly. You whip your head around to find that while Gojo still has his back to you, his arm is bent back in your direction, his palm open as if he fired some invisible blast from it.

Then you feel it again, something pulling at you, but this time it's more forceful. Your body is yanked toward Gojo and the second you feel his hand press against you, you see him make that gesture with his other hand.

“Domain Expansion,” he whispers in a strained voice. “Infinite Void!”

Something happens and your vision flashes for a fraction of a second. And then—

The room is enveloped in an eerie stillness; all the violence and bloodshed coming to an abrupt stop. Monsters and humans alike stand like the living dead, unconscious with their eyes wide open as if they are staring into an infinite abyss. You recognize this scene, you’re familiar with it because it’s similar to the one you wake up to after being hit by Gojo’s ‘domain expansion.’ The only difference is the presence of the monsters, who are all but gone when you regain consciousness.

The pressure from Gojo’s hand is gone and he says to you, his voice still low. “If you’re squeamish when it comes to blood and gore, it might be best for you to close your eyes.”

And then he’s gone.

You do not take his advice. You do not close your eyes. How many loops were you unable to witness what’s about to unfold? A few hundred? A few thousand? And if all goes to plan, then you will never get another chance again: there’s no way you could possibly look away.

And what you see unfold before you is that Satoru Gojo was right.

He is the one to kill all the monsters.

It’s not as if you really had any doubt, after all, it seemed like the most logical conclusion to come to and yet…

There’s a difference between knowing and seeing.

All the violence resumes and the platform is engulfed in the sounds of carnage and slaughter once more. The lack of terrified screams makes everything more disconcerting— without them, all you can hear is the squelching echo of mangled flesh and blood splattering all over the place. You can’t really see him, but you can tell where Satoru Gojo is in the crowd as he leaves dozens upon dozens of decapitated heads soaring in his wake. Once or twice, he leaps out of the crowd and even from where you stand you can see the crazed glow of his inhumanly blue eyes as he massacres monster after monster.

Even though you don’t think you have anything to be scared of, you are still terrified: Satoru Gojo is no longer a man, but violence incarnate. You want to move closer to where Gojo gets trapped, but you’re afraid to. What if you get in his way? What if he kills you by accident?

Dying again when you’ve made it this far is definitely not ideal, but isn’t being killed by Gojo the best case scenario? Because then the two of you would probably loop together again and—

No.

Gojo said you wouldn’t die.

He said he’d protect you.

It’s hard to believe when he’s in the middle of a massacre, slaughtering monsters left and right, but you remind yourself yet again that you have to believe in him.

You take a deep breath and start moving, taking care to keep an eye on where Gojo is. You don’t know how long this is supposed to take, but you do know where he ends up when he’s just about done. The closer he gets to that spot, the sooner the prison realm will be unleashed upon him.

There’s a small group of zombified people nearby and you settle yourself among them. It’s not super close, but you think it's close enough that you'd be able to run over and kick the box away from Gojo if you have to. You do a quick survey to see if you can spot the body snatcher, but he's nowhere to be found. Hopefully, he hasn't noticed you moving around, or, if he has, he's more concerned with Gojo than he is with you. Given that you always seem to be the last thing he acknowledges, you'd like to think that he doesn't consider you a threat.

Which you're not, not really anyway.

The sounds of slaughter start to die down and you look to see Gojo approaching the spot where he gets caught. He looks beat, his eyes unfocused and his breathing heavy. You do another quick scan around him and notice a small box a few meters away from him, wrapped in what looks like paper charms or seals or whatever they're called. That has to be the prison realm— though it looks different than what you saw before. Gojo seems to notice it right after you do, his gaze honing in on it, examining it with some measure of bewilderment. Then, some invisible force slices through all the paper seals covering the box and it expands, the corners of the box floating up in midair to reveal what looks like a large sheet of dark red flesh with a large bloodshot eye stapled to the middle.

Disgusting.

If Gojo didn’t realize before, he seems to now, because he takes a step back, away from the grotesque thing. Good, good—

“Hey! Satoru!” Your blood runs cold at the sound of the body snatcher’s voice. He emerges from the crowd, smiling widely as he gives Gojo a wave. “Long time no see!”

Satoru Gojo’s entire body goes rigid. Shit. You told him, you warned him about what was going to happen, who he was going to see, but was that not enough? It’s possible that no amount of warning would have been enough to mentally prepare Satoru Gojo for the sight of the man he said he killed a year ago. After all, you know that there’s a stark difference between knowing and seeing. Even then, if Gojo doesn’t gather his wits and move now then he’s going to get caught and you can’t let that happen.

Your body moves before you can even think about it.

You scramble out from your hiding spot in the crowd and throw yourself in between Satoru Gojo and the prison realm. There’s no way you can kick it away from him now, not when it’s in this form, but maybe, if you get between them you can at least keep it from capturing him.

The eye quivers erratically, as it flits from Gojo to you. Every hair on your body stands on end as it watches you, the pupil dilating and contracting uncontrollably. You can’t look away from it, your own gaze fixed to your image reflected in the black abyss of the pupil. Something in the back of your mind tells you to stop, to get away, it’s dangerous, but you keep your feet firmly planted to the ground.

A second, or maybe even a minute passes and the prison realm shifts, its fleshy form morphing to restrain you.

The body jacker looks at you, his frown tinged with disgust. “Don’t you think you’re being rather rude by butting into what could have been a touching reunion?”

You scowl. Is he still trying to play the role of Suguru Geto?

He sighs and looks past you at Gojo. “Satoru, I thought bringing lesser sorcerers to fight alongside you was more trouble than it was worth?”

You hear Gojo snort from behind you, “It is… but this person here isn’t a sorcerer… Just like you aren’t Suguru Geto.”

The faker almost pouts and presses his hand to his chest as if Gojo's words have wounded him. “Satoru, I’m hurt, how could you say such a thing to your best friend?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Gojo snarls. “You can’t fucking fool me. You might be in Suguru’s body but I know with all my heart and soul that you’re not him.”

The corpse snatcher stares at Gojo, expression blank before he sighs once more. Then, his gaze shifts back to you, his eyes narrowed as he looks at you with sheer disdain. It feels as if you’ve been drenched in ice cold water. There's no smile this time but you already know what's going to happen.

He’s going to kill you.

“I intended to deal with you later since you seemed harmless enough,” he says, raising a hand to summon a monster— the same one he always uses to end your life. “But you’re in the way. So, I think it’s for the best if I just get rid of you right now.”

Instinctively, you try to take a step back but the prison realm’s restraints keep you in place. Not that it would have mattered much, even in the loops where you’ve tried to escape the faker’s monster, it still kills you, too fast and too agile for an ordinary human like you to avoid. All you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and wait for the monster to kill you. At least, it’s always painless.

Something touches your back.

Your eyes shoot open.

Before you is the monster, wiggling and writhing only mere centimeters from your face. It gurgles and snarls at you, desperate to fulfill its master’s wishes and kill you but it doesn’t move any closer. You stare at it with wide eyes, unsure of what to do.

Someone behind you clicks their tongue— Gojo. You try to turn your head to look at him, but your movements are too limited, the most you can do is turn your head to the side. The sounds the monster is making start to change, sounding more frenzied, almost as if it’s in pain, and you flit your eyes in its direction just in time to see its entire body explode. The monster's guts and bright purple blood fly off in every direction, getting on the floor, the ceiling, the zombified bodies of the people unfortunate enough to be nearby, but not on you.

This is Satoru Gojo’s doing.

He steps in front of you, half turned towards you as he moves in between you and the body snatcher. His hands are shoved in his pockets as he loudly says, “Did you really forget about me?”

You’re not sure if he’s talking to you or the body snatcher.

Past him, the imposter scowls, raising his hand once more, probably to summon even more monsters, but Gojo’s quicker, and it almost looks like his eyes are glowing even brighter, the blue looking almost white as he whips his head in the faker’s direction. The sound of mangling flesh and breaking bones echoes throughout the room as Gojo, using that mysterious power of his, seems to break the faker’s arm.

The body snatcher hisses loudly and despite the fact that his face is twisted in very obvious pain, he tries to shoot Gojo a mocking smile. “Do you really think you can kill your best friend again?”

“I already told you,” Gojo turns to fully face the monster inhabiting Geto’s corpse. He tilts his head a little to the side and some force starts to squeeze at the faker’s neck. “You’re not Suguru.”

You hear a loud crack as Gojo telekinetically snaps his neck.

The head rolls onto the ground and you almost look away, but then you notice his eyes still moving, looking around. Is he still alive? Then you remember: the thing possessing Suguru Geto’s body was some kind of parasite. “Gojo! Wait! The brain!”

He reacts almost instantly, head turning and in an instant the skull is crushed and all that remains is red splotch on the ground.

You almost relax. Almost.

But the body is still standing.

Horrified, you watch as it quivers violently before falling to the ground. Then what looks like dozens of black spirits start to erupt from the corpse and the entire room is engulfed with a shrill howling.

What the hell is going on?

“Those must be all the cursed spirits he consumed,” Gojo explains uselessly, voice barely audible over the screaming. “Guess he was empty before.”

You don’t bother asking what he means. There are bigger problems right now. “What do we do?”

“No choice to exorcise them,” he answers plainly.

For him to exorcise them, he means. You both know that there’s not much that you can do. You still can’t move and honestly, you don’t even know if it’s possible to get out of the prison realm’s restraints. Not without dying. And if you die now…

Everything will have been for naught.

You’ll reset time and have to do this all over again— assuming you can even get to this point again.

There has to be something, you just have to think outside the box.

Or rather—

“Gojo!”

He glances back at you.

“You need to seal me in the prison realm!” you exclaim. He turns to face you fully, looking bewildered and you start to explain as fast as you can. “Those things are going to attack any minute right? I can’t move or try to hide and I can’t expect you to protect me the entire time and if I die then I’ll end up looping time again, but— but, if you seal me in the prison realm then that won’t happen.”

Gojo frowns, looking conflicted. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“Wouldn't it be easier if you didn’t have to?”

He tilts head and you think he’s conceding your point.

“Please,” you beg, staring at him desperately. “We don’t have much time. The other… cursed spirits will wake up soon too!”

You don’t have to explain that you mean Volcano Head and friends.

It takes only a second for Gojo to consider the very few options you have. “...how do you seal it? Do you know?”

“I think so,” you answer. “There’s no guarantee it’ll work but I think that if you say ‘prison realm, gate close’ it should seal me inside.”

If anything, it’s worth a shot.

Gojo nods. “Do you know how to break the seal?”

“I… don’t,” you confess. You never asked, and you don’t think the body snatcher would have told you even if you did. He only told you that it holds one and that…

That time doesn’t flow in the box.

“...you don’t have to break the seal.”

Gojo frowns, “Wait a sec—”

“Even if I make it past tonight… What if this all happens again? What if I inadvertently trap myself in another time loop?” you ask. “I… I don’t want to have to go through all of this again. It’s better for me in a place where time doesn’t pass.”

You don’t know for sure if it’ll be better, but right here, right now, it seems like the best option.

It feels like an eternity passes before Gojo says anything.

“...fine,” he agrees and you don’t quite know how to feel about it. The howling around you all grows louder. You wonder why the cursed spirits haven’t attacked yet. Maybe Gojo’s power is holding them at bay… for now anyway. You both know that he can’t ignore them forever.

“...before I do, though, mind if I ask you just one thing?”

You blink. “Not sure what I can do for you in this state…”

He laughs. “I just want to know your name.”

What an odd request. Though, now that you think about it, you don’t think that during this loop or any other loop really, you’ve ever told him your name. It only seems fair to tell him, since you’ve known his for longer than he’s known of your existence.

You tell him your name.

He nods, looking as if he’s committing to memory. Probably easier to remember than his phone number. “Any last words?”

You try to think of something. Nothing comes to mind and you just shake your head.

Gojo takes a deep breath, “Alrighty then… Prison realm, gate close.”

Just as it did the many times you’ve seen Satoru Gojo sealed away, the boxes and restraints around you vibrate a little before they start to close around you, growing large enough to fit your body as they approach.

You won’t see it, but once you’re inside the box will shrink and become small enough to fit in the palm of someone’s hand.

Will it be quiet inside?

In your final seconds, some words, some last words come to mind, and you say them, hoping that he hears them in time. “Thank you, Satoru Gojo.”

You burn the glittering glow of his brilliant bright blue eyes into your mind.

And then, everything is engulfed in an unending black.

It’s November 30, 2018— morning on the campus of Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu High School.

Satoru Gojo strides through the school grounds, casually tossing a small silver box with eerie blue eyes known as the prison realm up and down in his grasp. Walking at his side is Shoko Ieiri, a pretty woman who’s been unfortunate enough to have been Satoru’s friend since high school.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shoko asks, twirling a few strands of her long brown hair.

“What do you mean?” Satoru responds nonchalantly. “All my ideas are good ideas.”

Shoko hums in clear dissent, but doesn’t say anything more. Even she knows better than to try and waste her time trying to argue with Satoru. “I’m just worried about their mental state. Didn’t you say that time doesn’t flow in the box?”

“I’d be worried if it was some normal person,” Satoru says. “But after what they’ve gone through I think they’ll be fine.”

“...well, if you say so.”

The two arrive at their destination: the largest training area on the Jujutsu High grounds. Satoru places the prison realm at the center and takes a few steps back with Shoko standing behind him, in case anything happens.

He doesn’t think it will, but it’s always good to take at least a few precautions.

“Gojo, are you sure we should be doing this?” Shoko asks again. “Didn’t they want to remain in the box?”

“Of course I am,” Satoru says with his usual air of confidence before looking back at the prison realm nestled in the grass. He grins and then—

“Prison realm, gate open.”

if you made it this far. thank you. it's my sincerest hope that you enjoyed the ride.

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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moonit3 · 1 month

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I've been completely addicted to reading your yanderes since yesterday, especially Harem and the Twins.

Therefore, I would like to request a part 3 of the Harem, if possible with more yandere fem, I am extremely lacking with yandere female, if it is not a bother, I thank you in advance for your attention and I am happy with your stories

𓆩❤︎ YANDERE! CONCUBINES HAREM

⟡ cw: yandere! female (of course), gn! reader, mentioned somnphilia (nothing happens i swear), overthinking from concubines, age gap (but like one line only), mentioned blackmail, pure fluff i guess?

⟡ word count: 1.1 k

⟡ notes: a new format? yep, i got a little tired of the same old ive been using since the very first post and its like it changed a lot…also, i am giving up my life to try to get the new mythic mercy skin (even started playing competitive to get more points) and to have aventurine in star rail (i barely have tickets, so i am going to wait to the anniversary rewards…), either way i am working hard to archive my goals and you should too! enjoy today’s writing, my dear readers :)

earlier today you forget to lock your office’s door to prevent the concubines to enter and spend time with you during work hours, which basically mean they are all over the room in completely silence, observing you working in the documents. it’s wearied to have an quiet audience like this one, but you enjoy hearing the breeze outside your office while working and the ladies definitely know, so they keep to themselves when staying at the room with the only goal to admire you.

you catch most of the ladies moving their gaze away when you stare at them when the files start becoming boring, it’s cute to think about these women who often flirt and shamelessly throw themselves at you acting like this. it reminds you they acted so desperate before as many believed that you would kick them out if any of them showed interest in you, but the ladies now know better.

stretching your arms behind your back, a faint smile slowly made to your lips as you know today’s paperwork is coming to an end. it’s a challenge to stay sit down behind the desk and analyze every new law made by the council as the elections has taken place a few months ago. if you only could ask your personal advisers to finish the work so you could take an hour or two to rest, but that won’t be possible as it is necessary to have your signature at the papers.

a yawn came out of your mouth, calling the ladies’ attention towards their beloved one while you didn’t notice their watchful eyes, you did notice how tired you’ve become in seconds. and almost instantly, your body slowly fall into the desk and right there, you began dreaming about tomorrow’s work.

the little noises of snores made all the concubines step closer to check on your sleeping body.

some of them poked your cheeks to try to wake you up, but immediately failed when you just turned out to prevent them from doing so. others had the idea to bring a plate of your favorite meal so you could smell it and suddenly wake up to thank them, but you payed no mind for it. and the remaining ones just accept that you won’t wake up any time soon, so just they carried you back to your chambers to have a proper bed to sleep on.

seeing how your chest goes up and down with your soft breathing, the concubines couldn’t help themselves to just stay quiet to watch you sleeping form. it’s adorable how their great leader looks so precious in a defenseless position like this! all the things they could do with you right now are possible, but they aren’t animal, no. never in a million years would these lovely women use your body without your consent. so, the ladies just stay inside your chamber to admire you.

“should we get our love’s plushies to let them feel savior in their dream?” the daugther of a merchant asked.

“don’t be ridiculous, anne. do you think [name] would be happier if we show that we learn about their secret stock of plushies? I don’t think so.” the third daughter of a former general answered. “also, they can’t know we stole some of them.”

the others nodded, a little scared that you would discover of all the things they have stolen from you. would you learn how many of your undergarments just vanished? or would you question they found out about your recent discussions with the former emperor? every single of them loved hearing the old man scolding you for not having any heirs to the throne, even daring to ask you if you are sterile or just a coward.

while they got angry at the your father for speaking nuisances about your body, the women couldn’t be happier when hearing the words coming out of lips. ”i will h-have my f-first night soon! just let me choose someone, okay?” and that only made them more eager to stay around you. all the ladies made a pact to keep their newly found secret away from the man who are part of the harem, after all, they are already rivals and none of them need more people to complicate their plans.

that’s why the women of the harem have become more overprotective over you in recently days, not that you’ve noticed any change on their behavior. you are too busy working to make the nation better and to take care of the harem as a whole that you barely notice the immense change on their behavior.

“it’s been hours that [name] has fallen asleep! can we wake them up to spend some time with us? please.” a foreign princess was immediately stopped from touching your forehead, her hands quickly slapped away by a older woman.

and that woman is no other than a renowned actress who retired of her incredible care to become part of the harem, but still gaining enormous revenue from her previous works. “didn’t we said to let our love to rest? oh, wait. we have been talking about it for the past hour or so and you keep insisting on waking them up? you are dumb.” the woman’s words made the princess’ face go completely red as a tomato, then leading to a silent argument between the two of them. with everyone else to witness it.

the discussion continued for ten minutes until both stopped when noticing that you’ve wake up due to their constantly shifting in their voices. of course, both of their face became red of embarrassment while the rest of the concubines could only watch you yawning, probably thinking on what you would to the troublemakers.

“…how long i was sleeping?” even with your best attempts, you can’t keep an eye open to see how many women are inside your chamber.

“a-around seven hours, your majesty.” one of them answered. “are we disturbing your rest? if so, we can leave.”

“oh, don’t worry…” a yawn escape of your lips, interrupting your words. “…you, ladies, aren’t bothering me at all. i was just thinking if you guys would like to rest with me.”

did they hear correctly? are you really asking that or they are just imaging those words to make themselves calmer of this situation. but they knew this is real when you began patting the bed, asking them once again if they would like to sleep with you for the rest of the day and of course, all of them accept it.

it didn’t took much time to you fall asleep again, this time surrounded by many and many ladies over your immense bed who almost fought each other to gain the opportunity to lay next to you. the only reason a conflict didn’t broken out was because you began cuddling a pillow of yours, leading to the concubines crying to themselves while others took photos of this precious moment to use as an important blackmail material in the future or perhaps just to sell at a high price to the male concubines.

@moonit3 . don’t repost it, don’t modify it, don’t plagiarize, translate it without my permission.

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evewasheretoday · 2 months

Text

Accidents Happen: Chapter 1 - Midnight Encounters

As usual, a new maid arrives to the castle and replaces the former maid who'd died.

This time, however, the maid is younger. Not even seventeen or eighteen years old yet. She seems lost, scared and afraid.

Which is understandable considering the place she's currently residing does not take kindly to anyone. Especially the staff.

But she seems to be doing alright despite the predicament she's currently in.

Green eyes wander around the dining hall as she eats her meal. It isn't long before she spots you staring at her that she looks over and raises an eyebrow at you.

“That's Eugenia” Maria, one of the few maids you've made friends with during your stay, whispers to you. “I've heard she hasn't even turned seventeen and yet she's here, working under Lady Dimitrescu” Maria shook her head with a frown. “I pity the poor girl” She says.

“So do I” You tell her. “But what can we do about it?” You ask her. “The moment we entered this castle and signed a contract with house Dimitrescu, we are trapped here” You sighed.

“We make due of what we have during our times of desperation, Reeda” Maria told you.

“Desperation” You scoffed. “Do you think all of us came here out of that?”

“No,” She shook her head. “But we all came here for a reason, no?”

There wasn't anything you could say to that because Maria was right. All of you, whom work here in Castle Dimitrescu, came here for a reason.

You shook her head before sighing again. “I suppose” You mutter.

Maria gives you a soft smile before patting your shoulder. “Don't be so downhearted” She tells you softly. “It is better to focus on the positive things than on the negative ones”

“You are starting to be very much like my older sister, Camelia” You muttered under your breath. “Thank you for reminding me of her existence”

“Do not speak of it” Maria grinned. “Because I may as well be her twin then” She teased.

You waved a hand dismissively at her. “I need not for another one of her,” You replied.

Maria just chuckled at the comment.

Surely things would be better sooner or later.

~~~~~~~~~~

You never had troubles sleeping but the sound of pure silence except for the whistling of leaves outside the window was unnerving.

And the lack of lamps in your room did not help either.

You sighed before climbing out of your bed and going out of your room.

Maybe a walk in the halls would help you sleep, you thought to yourself.

“My my,” A voice behind you says. “Aren't you a bad girl, sneaking out at night?”

Turning around quickly, you stare wide eyed at the woman dressed in black silk standing before you.

“L-Lady Cassandra..!” You yelped, immediately bowing your head low.

“What were you planning to do?” She asked you, raising an eyebrow as she crosses her arms to her chest.

“I...was going out to for a small walk in the halls” You answered quietly.

“In the middle of the night?” She asks.

“Y… Yes, my lady” You nodded your head. “I was having troubles sleeping and I thought a walk in the halls might help me to sleep” You explained.

“Hmm” Cassandra hummed. “Is it helping you?” She asked after a while.

“Not quite,” You told her. “I am still wide awake as an owl in the night”

“I see,” She hums once more. “Would you like me to accompany you then?”

“That is very kind of you, my lady” You smiled gratefully at her. “But I'm afraid I must dec—”

“If you do not accept my offer, I may as well send you on your way with nothing but broken legs,” Cassandra threatened you.

You gulped as you slowly met her gaze with yours. “I d-don't see why I should refuse,” You stuttered out.

“Good,” She nodded. “Come then” She spoke, turning around on her heel.

All your head was screaming to you at that moment was to run away and hide.

But to where? You didn't know where you could possibly go. Any place you'll be in, they will find you. They knew this castle better than anyone else.

“Are you coming or not?” Cassandra questioned, turning around to look at you.

“O-Of course, my lady” You stammered out, momentarily biting your lip before you followed behind her.

Prey following its predator.

#alcina dimitrescu's daughters x reader #alcina dimitriscu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #re8 alcina #resident evil alcina #daniela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #I didn't want to label reader as Y/N since it's tiresome and typical so I went with a name that's similar to reader #which you'll know if you actually read this whole thing #and also I'm going with my own view of the dimitrescu women

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earlgreydream · 1 year

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pretty thing.

a sexy christmas party at malfoy manor with a bit of smut and soft dom draco 💚

Piano music floated down the hallway, reaching your ears as you stood, dressing in one of the guest suites at Malfoy Manor. You were a part of one of the pure blood families that attended their annual Christmas party, a chance for whispers about the ministry more than a celebration of the holidays.

Black lace hugged the curves of your body, accentuating your silhouette as you stood before the mirror, applying your makeup. A glittering green dress hung over the door of the armoire, heels below it, waiting to be worn, showing you off to the wealthy heirs that your parents insisted were potential suitors.

“Aren’t you cold, love?” Draco smirked, appearing out of a hidden passage in the wall, one of many that linked the rooms of his childhood home.

“Get out of here! I’m naked!” You hissed, immediately throwing a robe over your body, hiding it from his view.

“Hardly, in fact, if you really want to get a lovers attention, you should just go out in that tonight,” he teased, prowling toward you with his graceful steps.

You pushed him away as he tried to pull open the tie of the robe, always desperate to get a glimpse of you, insisting since you were young that you were all his, as it was always meant to be.

“You’re terrible, Malfoy. You’re not supposed to be up here, anyways. If anyone caught you in my suite, we’d both be skinned,” you reminded, keeping your voice to a whisper in case any nosey parent or household staff lurked in the halls.

“All the more exciting.”

Before you could protest further, he had pushed you onto the vanity, standing between your knees and catching you in a fiery kiss. He tasted like peppermint and bourbon, his lips soft and his tongue heavy. Delicate hands gripped the silk robe, dragging it up, exposing as much of you as he could in the desperate, messy, make out session.

“Really, you shouldn’t be here,” you breathed when he finally broke away for air, his lips ghosting against your jawline.

“I shouldn’t be here, and you shouldn’t be wearing such scandalous lace beneath your dress. You’re going to go to that party like you always do, and flirt with the heirs to appease your parents. And I’m going to get jealous, and before the night is up, we’ll have disappeared to commit even worse sins than we are now.”

Draco was right. No matter how much you pretended to feign interest in others, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other in private. You’d accepted long ago that you did belong to Draco, wrapped around his fingers. He didn’t notice anyone but you, you were everything, so much more than a young heiress he wasn’t meant to corrupt.

“Save a dance for me tonight,” Draco murmured, pressing a tender kiss to your lips before disappearing back into the walls, going to make the appearances expected of him.

You could still taste him as you collected yourself, fixing your hair and putting on your dress for the party.

“You look stunning, dear,” Narcissa greeted you as you went down to the ballroom, finally ready to join their Christmas party.

“Thank you,” you kissed her cheek politely, refraining from asking if she’d seen her son, not wanting to give away anything about your hidden affair.

As per tradition, you were meant to be kept pure, until Draco came along and ruined you in secret.

A sparkling glass was put in your hand by one of the men vying for your affection, introducing himself, telling you about his important position in the ministry. You tried to be polite, knowing eyes were on you, the eligible bachelorette that would secure good favor with the dark lord, whoever you chose.

“Being out in the world has been much kinder to you than hogwarts,” Pansy admired your dress, the compliment as sincere as it could be from her.

“I miss it, though. I’d rather be learning divination and gossiping in the common room than be passed around like a prize to be won,” you rolled your eyes, your mind floating to memories of you and Draco in his prefect room.

“You’re so ungrateful, everyone wishes they were you. All the boys are obsessed with you, and the pure blood families love you.”

You ignored her last comment, your eyes locking with Draco’s silver gaze across the room. He smiled behind a glass of champagne, paying no attention to the girls hanging off of his every word.

“You always wanted what you couldn’t have,” Pansy mused.

“May we dance, my darling?” Draco offered his hand, saving you from the company of several barons of countries you hadn’t heard of.

“Of course, Malfoy,” you nodded, letting him sweep you off your feet, into the dance as someone played the nutcracker on the piano.

You let your head rest against his chest, guided by his graceful movements into a waltz.

“Sick of them yet, princess? I must admit, I’m ready to sneak off with you, to somewhere more private,” he spoke softly, his lips just above the shell of your ear, words whispered into your hair.

“I don’t want to be here any more than you, but I’ve gotten so much attention, I can’t slip away unnoticed yet,” you sighed softly as he gave your hip a squeeze.

“Act as if you’ve caught a cold, make a scene, I don’t care. I cannot share you any longer,” his command was whispered in your ear, sending a shudder down your spine and heat burning between your hips.

As Draco parted from you, you ached for his touch, watching him disappear amongst the party guests. Others had already begun flocking to you, hoping to earn a dance.

“Sorry, I’m actually feeling a bit unwell,” you apologized as you all but ran away from the boy who had sought your attention.

You repeated your apology to your parents, and several other dignitaries you passed, all wondering where you were running off to so early. After their condolences and well-wishes, you tore up the stairs to your suite, locking the door with as many spells as you could summon.

“It took you long enough,” Draco quipped, pinning you against the door from behind, his hands bringing yours above your head, trapping them to the wood.

“You know how they are,” you whined, tilting your head, hoping to catch a kiss from the sensual prince who was prying your legs open with his knee.

“Hush, love,” Draco kissed you slowly, his free hand riding beneath your dress, feeling you beneath the lace.

His fingers rubbed over the lace thong you wore, pulling a whimper from your lips as you began to throb with need.

“Desperate?” Draco teased, feeling your muscles tense for him.

“Please,” your plea was pitiful, your mind already melted from his brief touches.

“Be my good girl and wait patiently,” he scolded with a smirk, delighting in your need.

You were soaking despite the loss of his fingers as he unfastened your dress, helping you out of it and onto the end of the bed. Your elbows and feet hit the sheets, backing up until your head rested delicately on the pillows.

“Look at you, all wrapped up like a present for me,” he praised, tracing the silk and lace that twisted around your body.

“All for you,” you murmured, parting your legs so he could settle between your knees.

His arms wrapped around your thighs as he lowered to kiss your belly, slowly moving downward until his teeth pulled at your waistband.

Draco smirked at the little gasp you elicited when he lightly bit the soft skin between your hips, humming as your fingers threaded into his hair.

He pried the lace off of you, kissing every inch of your bare skin as he did so, distracting you until he could return to his place between your thighs. Silver eyes glinted up at you as he knelt to taste your sex, dripping with sweetness for him.

Your back arched as his tongue pulled more moans from you, Draco knowing exactly how to make you melt.

“Good girl, let me hear you,” he soothed, palming your chest and kissing the inside of your thigh before he went back to eating you out like a starved man.

“Draco, fuck, I need you inside me,” your words were broken and rushed, desperate as your heels dug into his back, trying to pull him closer.

“Pretty thing,” Draco praised, smearing a kiss over your lips, smirking as you leaned up to follow when he pulled away.

You whimpered as he fell back against the headboard, pushing you up on shaky knees before him.

“I can’t—”

“Relax, love,” Draco pulled you to sit on his lap, straddling either side of his knees as you melted against his chest.

A strong arm circled around your waist as he carefully sank into you, nearly coming on the spot at your sinful moan.

“Feel what you do to me? You’ve got me so hard, and you’re taking it so well,” he murmured, snapping his hips up slowly, each thrust filling you to the brim.

Your hands weakly grasped at his biceps for support, your head resting on his shoulder as he pulled you down onto him. His chest heaved under your back, and he kissed on your neck as he fucked you, leaving a mark that was sure to last for days.

You were dizzy with pleasure, reaching over your shoulder and pulling his hair as your legs began to shake. You were surprised you had lasted this long — but now your nerves felt as if they were on fire every time Draco kissed your cervix.

“There you go love,” Draco hummed, drawing quick circles on your clit with his thumb until you were trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

His own release dropped down your thighs, creating wet and filthy sounds as he thrusted lazily as you two came down. Draco gently cradled your exhausted form, murmuring a spell to clean you up before sinking back into the soft sheets with you snuggled on his chest.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispered into your hair, kissing you before your eyes closed for the night.

#grey’s holiday fics #holiday fics #Draco #Draco x reader #Draco malfoy #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #Draco fluff #Draco smut #draco x reader fluff #draco x reader smut

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esther-dot · 8 months

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The problem with Daenerys is that she sees issues from a purely black-and-white perspective. She stops Mirri from being raped and acts as if that’s the complete solution to her problem. Daenerys acts as her savior and insinuates that the rape victim she “saved” much be grateful. However, upon having her people murdered and ravaged, Mirri tries to get back at Drogo. But she doesn’t even really contribute to his death, as we know that Drogo died of his own infection that he refused to treat (he also refused to follow Mirri‘s advice on how to treat it). Sure, she apparently kills Daenerys’s infant, but I doubt that’s even true. Mirri explicitly announces that no one must enter the tent while she’s performing her magic. Yet Jorah and Daenerys enter anyway.

And even if this isn’t true, Daenerys herself believes that Jorah killed her son since he didn’t listen to Mirri and took her into the tent, yet it is Mirri she burns alive.

Ser Jorah had killed her son, Dany knew. He had done what he did for love and loyalty, yet he had carried her into a place no living man should go and fed her baby to the darkness. He knew it too; the grey face, the hollow eyes, the limp. “The shadows have touched you too, Ser Jorah,” she told him. The knight made no reply. (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

You know, you're right that there's a distinct pattern of misapplying or refusing to accept guilt when it suits her. While her feelings may be alleviated by "saving" people,

"She will do no harm." Dany felt she could trust this old, plain-faced woman with her flat nose; she had saved her from the hard hands of her rapers, after all. (AGOT, Daenerys VII)

Perhaps Dany needs to reconsider what put them in that position in the first place, and whether it might actually have been Drogo and her choices, her war, that ruined their life,

"Saved me?" The Lhazareen woman spat. "Three riders had taken me, not as a man takes a woman but from behind, as a dog takes a bitch. The fourth was in me when you rode past. How then did you save me? I saw my god's house burn, where I had healed good men beyond counting. My home they burned as well, and in the street I saw piles of heads. I saw the head of a baker who made my bread. I saw the head of a boy I had saved from deadeye fever, only three moons past. I heard children crying as the riders drove them off with their whips. Tell me again what you saved." "Your life." (AGOT, Daenerys IX)

And I think the reader should be alarmed that while Dany thinks she's saved a life here, she promptly turns around and takes it:

"You will not hear me scream," Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing. "I will," Dany said, "but it is not your screams I want, only your life. (AGOT, Daenerys X)

I suppose this is similar to her freeing people but the situation being so bad they’re desperate enough to want to sell themselves back into slavery and instead of that being a wake up call about the results of her choices, telling Dany she hasn’t done what she thinks she’s done, Dany decides to take a cut, to profit off of their suffering.

#dot chat #anti daenerys

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rainyestcloud · 4 months

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MAG146: Threshold. An Excruciatingly Deep Analysis. Word Count: 6702 .

The Final scene in mag146 is something i think about often. It wasn't a scene of the three assistants confronting Jon at Martin's behest, it was a scene of desperation for a tangible target that couldn't overpower them the way every other monster had, that could be loosely quantified as deserving every ugly emotion they've had to direct inwards. I think a large part of season four as a whole, is the lack of a "big bad guy" and how the absence of one big pure evil enemy can actually. make things worse sometimes. because back when Elias was present everyone had someone to blame. all their anger about their respective situations could be tied back to Elias and so everyone had common ground in their hatred for him, they had an outlet. Tim and Melanie both lashed out at almost everyone but in the end it was Elias Melanie tried to kill multiple times. It was Elias that Tim's rage always traced back to, and they he held as the true evil until his bitter end. Basira could blame Elias since he's the one who practically forced her into joining the institute to save Daisy. It made things easy. It was simple because it's so easy to direct all your hatred towards the person who's the obvious big bad antagonist. But as soon as Elias was not present anymore, none of them had that outlet anymore. That's a large part of the reason that Jon’s the one being scapegoated. He's the only one with no connection to them all. And the only one they can safely turn their rage towards. Basira and Daisy have a bond near unbreakable due to their history, Melanie and Basira went through the trauma of the Flesh attack together, Daisy and Melanie have the common thread of both being people attempting redemption despite it being what feels like their nature. And through this, they all have something connecting them all. With Jon, there's a lacking in that common thread. Especially since it was Tim who saved everyone from the unknowing. Plus, what makes Jon easy, is the fact that they can trace even just the littlest something involved with him. The point is, when Elias was there, everyone had something they could tie reeeally directly to their issues. But now thats he’s not. Jons the next closest thing. And many aspects about who he is as a person makes it ever so easier to put blame on him. Not only is he non confrontational and self blaming, so he doesn't have it in him to be a danger to anyone who may confront him. But, with the rapid deterioration of his mental state, he's been making bad decisions. He's been unintentionally hurting a few innocent people. And those two things combined are just enough to make him the perfect replacement outlet. Because god with everything they're going through they need something. Because, all in all, it's nobody's fault. And that is the hardest fact for anyone in their situation to accept. Because blame is easy. Blame is simple and blame lets you cast all your misfortunes onto one person without having to take painful responsibility for them. And right now? Fate is the one at fault. Everything is being subtly influenced by the web in a way that simply makes it so fate was the sole decider all along. The end was decided from the beginning. Nothing could have helped that fact. Everybody wound up in their positions because fate deemed them unlucky souls and no matter what they hoped or dreamed or wished to do there was nothing that could have been done because every single one of them was just a plaything for destiny to reel at. And that is the absolute most excruciating thing to accept in their circumstance. Because none of them can handle what they've gone through. And to accept that there's absolutely nothing that ever could have been done about it is. Devastating. Because why should Jon have been born to suffer, why should Melanie have had to live a life built off a burning stick tower of shaky rage, why should Daisy have had to live the life of a desperate predator that she can barely redeem herself for, why should Basira have to dedicate her life to something that-

has only ever backfired on her, and went through so much trauma because of. Every single one of them is at the absolute worst possible spot they could be at for one reason or another (except possibly Daisy), so what other option do they have besides creating blame when the alternative is accepting it was hopeless all along. They're all desperate. Now, to further explain my next point i'm going to bring in some historical context for the term "scapegoat. Based in the Bible, a scapegoat is one of two baby goats; the other is sacrificed, while the other is sent into the desert, carrying all of the sins and impurities with it. The idea is initially mentioned in the Book of Leviticus, where a goat is assigned to be sent into the desert in order to carry away the sins of the community. Historically, this can be seen in many concepts. All of which are corrupt, and yet simultaneously used as one massive coping mechanism for the ways things are. The term though, interestingly (and ironically seeing a trend in historical scapegoats) enough, is rooted in ancient Judaism. Once a year, during Yom Kippur, Cohen Gadol sacrificed a bull as a sin offering to atone for all the sins he had inadvertently committed during the year. Then he took two goats and brought them to the door of the tent. Two goats were chosen by lot: one offered as a blood sacrifice, and the other as a scapegoat to be sent into the desert and pushed down a steep chasm where he died. The blood of the slain goat was taken behind the curtain into the Holy of Holies and sprinkled on the closing plate, the lid of the ark of the covenant. Later, the high priest confessed the intentional sins of the Israelites to God and figuratively placed them on the head of another goat, the scapegoat Azazel, who would symbolically "take them away". Now this is a very important analysis of a "scapegoat" because of how it narratively fits into the magnus archives you'll notice, that in the more ancient torah based description, it's abundantly clear that rather than simply an instrument for atonement, the goat is a sacrifice. The sins of the world were all placed on a rather innocent creature, and due to this, it met its untimely demise for reasons none other than fate. I like this specification, because I think it shows a really important context for the situation Jon is is. He isn't just being blamed for other people's problems, he's being utterly destroyed by them. Jons mental deterioration throughout the season has been nothing but noticeable in every way possible. And really? It's mostly due to that. He has an i n s a n e amount of survivors guilt at this point as pointed out by Daisy in Scrutiny, "And of course, for John, there’s survivor’s guilt in there, too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very… self-destructive.". So to have such an immense amount of guilt, and then have all the people around you, who you strive to have some sort of trust with, place all this blame on you, is detrimental. Not only is it a punishment perfectly tailored to match what Jons weakest point is, but it's also one that puts him in a cycle of agony that makes the entire situation worse. A sacrifice. It sends him into a vicious cycle of [ deteriorating due to being blamed -> not being able to sustain the pressure and agony of it and needing more statements -> taking more statements -> scapegoated for taking statements -> deteriorating due to being blamed ]. He's caught between a rock and a hard place with the situation because the ways the assistants are coping with their situation is directly contributing to exactly what they get on him for. They see him as a monster for doing what he does, and continue to deliberately try and make him feel worse, which only makes him need to do more of what they hate him for and no on and so forth. It's a vicious cycle full of unhealthy coping that none of them know how to withstand.

So, now that we have down the motives for scapegoating Jon and where Jon stands in the situation and what narrative role he's playing, we can now move on to the scene itself and the fundamentals of each character's stance in it.

Coping: and how it interferes with regression of development.

Firstly, I'm going to be starting with Daisy and there's a chance it's because she's my favorite and there's a chance it's because her stance is the most interesting. I lied, it's because she's my favorite! But either way, Daisy in this scene is the most conflicted character, and for extremely good reason. You'll notice that in her speech, she's almost desperately trying not to take sides, because she's the most aware of all the characters. She's undergone the most development and because of it is able to understand perspectives to a point where taking one is just something that's too difficult for her. After escaping the grasp of the Hunt, she's dedicated herself to atonement. Daisy has done terrible, inexcusable things in the past in order to feed the hunt. And since escaping it has done every single thing in her power to make up for it, no matter how hard. But the thing is. She's just as affected as all of them. And that's what makes her actions in this scene so interesting to look at. Because she can. not. blame Jon. She was Jon not too long ago she sees herself in him to a point where its painful. Because she too was caught in a place where she had to do things she knew were wrong simply to satisfy the desire of the hunt. She knows just how hard it is she knows the agony that Jon’s having to go through so she can't stand to see Basira and Melanie acting like he has full control. And yet at the same time, she can't bring herself to go against Basira. Because just as much as she knows where Jon is, she was on the police force with Basira. And cant help but see the justice side of the argument. She can't help but see how her circumstances differ from Ions in a way that Basira points out. So as much as she can see herself in where Jon is, she's incapable of not also being able to understand the points being made by the rest and where they are coming from due to how she knows that the logic for herself cant be applied to Jon. Since Jon knows what he's doing and she didn't. Since Jon hasn't been able to resist but she has. And a part about that fact is that it's Basira making it. She also still has a loyalty to Basira that makes it. Very, very difficult to fully go against her. So she becomes caught in a place where taking full, distinct sides, becomes a difficult endeavor. In the interaction, she's never the one making the points against Jon, but she's also not the one ever advocating for him. She makes a single comment about how Jons situation was similar to hers to try and reason was Basira slightly, but shut up about it after a few vague comments once she saw how driven Basira was in her convictions. BASIRA - You’re a danger, John. A monster. You’re hurting innocent people. ARCHIVIST - So did Daisy. BASIRA - Shut up. It’s not the same thing at all. DAISY - Basira. He has a point. BASIRA - You didn’t know what you were doing. [DAISY MAKES A PAINED SOUND, AS IF TO CONTRADICT HER, BUT STOPS.]. In this interaction especially, you can see just how tied she is between her understanding of both sides. She knows what Jons going through, but she also knows the differences in their circumstances, and it's not something she has solid ground to argue for. Now, bringing the regression topic in, I'll talk about how playing into this coping regresses her development as a character. Daisys current arc, and the one she's been having, is about fighting against her own monster hood. It's about resisting herself. About recognizing what she's done and atonement for it. It's about trying rather than succeeding. It's about fighting against your nature for what you know is right. So when upon seeing someone whos in as pained and monstrous a condition as she was, she cant bring-

herself to fight for them due to inconsistencies with what she believes, she regresses back to the person she was. The one who let their own morals get in the way of what was right. The one who allowed people to get hurt simply because it was "for the greater good." The way that regression is highlighted for her in this scene is how a blinding sense of morals and justice becomes too bright for her to act on the right thing. Even when staring at a pitiful version of the person she used to be. Character regression here works in the way where when tasked with empathy and understanding, she instead prioritized her own personal way of seeing things.

Second, and much more simple of a spectacle to observe: Ms Melanie King. Melanie is a lot simpler to talk about, and mostly since her motives and ways of thinking are very direct and straightforward. Melanie is a character plagued by anger. She drew an unlucky hand in life, and the only way she was able to rise up to become a person she could be proud of was through fighting her way there tooth and nail, scratching and kicking and biting. So when everything comes crashing down on her. When everything she fought with her life for is suddenly destroyed, she can not blame herself. Because if she admits to herself that it was simply fate's fault that her career collapsed and that it was her fault that she joined the institute in the first place, then it means that everything will have been for nothing. And that her absolute rock bottom in life was all and only because of her. That. is NOT something she can face. And the rage that was once used to build her up in life, is redirected towards the ones who she sees fit to blame. First it was Elias. He hired her, he's the one commanding under the name of the eye, he's the one whose fault it is, and he's the one who she's going to take her rage out on. And so she did. And then Elias was gone. And her rage was taken over by the slaughter. In the time Jon was in a coma her anger festered, it grew, it empowered her and became more a part of her than ever. So once Jon was back, she had an outlet again. And boy did it make it ever so easy for her, though all through good intentioned. Jons surprise little surgery to help release her from the slaughter, the fact that it was her statement she made to him that got her involved with the institute at first, the fact that he's becoming less and less human. So many things about what Jon was doing and had done made it horrifyingly easy for her to place her rage on him. And so, all her anger was redirected towards the archivist that ruined her life. I think at this point it's also worth mentioning Melanie's pride and how it plays into her as a character. She's undergone a l o t of character change. But aside from her frustration the one thing that's stayed stagnant about her as a person is her pride. She took great pride in where she managed to get herself in life back when Ghost Hunt UK was up and her life was at its peak. It was her pride and joy and it's what boosted her ego so high because it's something she did for herself with her own bare hands. So when that collapsed, one of the massive reasons that she needed to blame someone so bad was due to the fact that if she admitted that it was her fault, then all that pride would have collapsed with the rest of her life. Navigating blame away from herself and avoiding acceptance is her way of preserving her ego, which is the only thing she really has left after all she's undergone. And due to this ego, it's also what makes her the most stubborn and fierce during this scene. And so, so willing to go against Jon at any and all costs. But tracing back to this pride of hers, I think it's an aspect that's actually quite a lot during the intervention. The moment Jon refers to her as being a character in an explanation of his she immediately assumes he's trying to blame her for it all. [ ARCHIVIST - The second was… it was after I got stabbed by Melanie. MELANIE - You are not putting this on me ]. She does this again, but this time when Jons agrees with her, this being a blow to her ego that someone like him could even think to agree with an idea of hers. [ ARCHIVIST - She does have a point. MELANIE - I did NOT ask you.] So now that motives and reasoning are out of the way, it's time to explain how regression is doing its work on Melanie here. Melanie's key point in her development as a character is. actually almost hilariously obvious to a point where she's actually seen as reasonable for a split second of her life. She got therapy.

An honestly hilariously smart solution to the arising problems but. It was impressive for Melanie. Because her getting help after never once leaning on anyone around her was a massive step for her. It was a release of her pride, a recognition of her needing help from someone, of realizing she wasn't ok, and going out and getting it. Which god is more than can be said for most characters but essentially what therapy meant for her character development, was that she was finally taking a step to acknowledge her irrational anger and work to fix it. What happened in this scene for her, was a messy entanglement with the automatic unleashing of anger that she's always been so accustomed to, and the fact that she just took a massive step to stop that habit of hers. Regression is present here in the way that here, it's that automatic unleashment that ends up dominating, and becomes what overtakes her in this scene. The person she's been trying too hard to become fades away, and she moves back into the bitter, angry, spiteful person she was at the beginning of season four, still infected with the slaughter.

Basira is. undoubtedly the most complicated one. Daisys motives are the most contradicting, but Basira is the most dominant figure in what's happening, making her actions the most intense, and controversial. Basira is. complicated. She's extremely justice oriented and will do just about anything if it's for the wellbeing of the innocent and good of the world. She doesn't have the same "maul and kill the bad protect the good '' philosophy as Daisy, and is much less violent, but nonetheless lets her judgment of if people are good or not define her actions. And this goes for just about everything she has an opinion on, even changing what she thinks drastically if someone's morals shift. The only exception to this rule is Daisy, who seems to always have some affection towards whether what she's doing is good or not. The only time she's ever intervened with Daisy's immoral behavior is when she was going to kill Jon, who was someone Basira saw as moral. This type of mindset of hers got to the point where she completely turned on the police force the moment she recognized it as corrupt without even a second thought or dilemna about what she had sacrificed years upon years of work for. Unlike Daisy, who's developed to be able to see in shades of gray, Basira is still stuck at a point of black and white thinking. Deeming people as either "good" or a "monster." However over time, what went from just a mindset, became an utter and absolute crutch for her. She kept having to save herself from more and more situations. Rayners incident where she had to save herself from the chaos of the situation to when she had to rely entirely on her own head and wits to survive the unknowing, Basira slowly yet surely gets to a point where she can only trust to rely on herself, and her logic. After being through hell and back in Section 31 and then the institute she longs for stability, and gets this by having a rock solid state of mind that develops into the one and only thing she can depend on This gets especially reinforced in season four, when she's forced to take a leadership position. After the unknowing, her one, true last anchor besides herself disappears. Daisy was the one thing she could always count on, the one thing that was always there as an undeniable constant no matter what. But after Daisy was gone, she was left truly alone. So with Jon gone, Elias in prisoned, Martin out on his own agenda, and everyone else besides Melanie dead, she's forced to take leadership of the operation that is the archives. This in itself makes her extremely self sufficient. Becoming more and more self reliant and she increasingly loses anchors. This is likely around the time that she started really looking up to Gertrude, someone who all by herself did an unbelievable amount of justice for the world no matter what it took, or who had to be sacrificed to do it. Gertrudes self sufficiency, her effort, her efficiency, her image, everything Gertrude was, Basira strived to be. She's entirely independent, researching her own things and going all around the country without telling anyone about what she's doing. Leading all the operations such as the stopping of the dark ritual and now, going to investigate hilltop roads. She's undeniably retreated into herself, and no longer is used to being anything but autonomous. Because relying on herself for everything is how she copes. She turns herself into a pillar of stability which she must never leave, terrified that she would otherwise collapse. However despite seeming logical, she also greatly uses Jon as just as much of a scapegoat as Melanie, albeit more subconsciously. The problem that arises with Basira a bit more, is bias. Bias towards what's helpful to her personally, bias towards stability, and a strong bias against things that both destable her, and don't fit her view of justice.

I'm going to have to try and word this simply because Basira is a little complicated, but essentially, her black and white view of the world mixes with her biases very badly. Being either extremely tolerant, or extremely intolerant. Due to her self sufficient development, she has automatic favor towards anyones who's useful to her. Aka: Melanie. During the flesh attack, Melanie saved her life. Melanie got Helen as an ally. Melanie helped her research and upkeep of the archives when nobody else was around. And otherwise, has stayed out of her way. Due to Melanie having been useful to her, she sees Melanie as a person on her "good" list. And is willing to excuse Melanie's emotional outbursts, and justifies them. She also has automatic favor towards people who provide her stability: Daisy. Daisy has had her back for likely at least a decade. She's always worked together with her, always helped her, always provided a sense of stability for her to rely on, and was a powerful unstoppable force that Basira found comfort in depending on. Daisy was also someone Basira became extremely trauma bound with, enforcing the fact that Daisy would constantly be relied upon. Because of this, Basira looked past her immoral behavior on the police force. Daisy also earned a spot on her "good" list. However, Jon has ever provided for her in a way where she can have this favor towards him, and if anything goes against the exact things that she values Melanie and Daisy for. Unlike Melanie, Jon has never helped her or been of use to her. He's never saved her, never gotten her in the nick of time, never assisted her in something great, and overall has really never been a person that has been of good use to her. Unlike Basira, he's extremely unreliable. He's messy, jumps into action without thinking, he's self sacrificial in the stupid way, always gets himself into danger, is sloppy with plans, puts himself and others in danger, and is the last person you can rely on as a sturdy boulder. So not only does Jon not possess the qualities she tends to favor people over, but similarly to Melanie she associates him with being put in danger due to him being unhelpful at some of the most dangerous places shes ever found herself in, including the unknowing, the stopping of the "dark ritual". And most other scenarios where she's been put in danger, and needs someone to assist her. That being said, this means that she's not willing to look past anything he does due to lacking in the favor that people like Melanie and Daisy have. This especially works in the opposite of Jons favor when the things that he happens to be making mistakes on, is exactly what Basira values. Justice of the innocent. So when you combine ALL these factors.

Combine her need to be bold, black and white, stubborn and unmoving at all costs [ BASIRA - How many. ARCHIVIST - Basira…BASIRA - How. many. ] [ BASIRA Enough. ]. [ BASIRA -Then we go. Now. Unless, anyone has any objections. ]

With her newfound need to be independent, autonomous, self sufficient, self reliant at all costs [ BASIRA - No. if he is being controlled, we need to know. And we need to know now. Tell me where she is. ] [ BASIRA - Fine, I’ll go, then. I’ll do some recon on my own, and update you. ]

And finally, her biases towards those she favors mixing with her strong sense of justice [ BASIRA - Why do you think? Because he was ashamed. ] [ BASIRA - You’re a danger, John. A monster. You’re hurting innocent people. ARCHIVIST - So did Daisy. BASIRA - SHUT UP. It’s not the same thing at all. DAISY - Basira. He has a point. You didn’t know what you were doing. BASIRA -And since you did, you’ve spent every waking hour resisting. He knows exactly what he’s doing. ] [BASIRA- You don’t get a vote. ]

Now that I've discussed the individual characters and their stances and motives, I want to give my personal review of this scene and it's mostly just. My goodness. Jonathan Sims is scarily good at writing characters. I feel like a lot of writers often don’t go into the messy details of what trauma does to you as a person. A lot of the time characters will go into scarring events and come out only slightly affected. But what's really done so, so well, is the realism put into the coping styles and reactions of each character. They don't react to their trauma in pretty, romanticized ways. Melanie especially depicts this. She has rage outbursts that have ruined her almost all her relationships, she becomes violent out of fear, she reacts irrationally due to defense mechanisms, shes messy and shes vengeful and shes angry and the ways in which she acts in order to protect herself whether its stabbing Jon and other violent outbursts, or a general inability to communicate without thinking the other person has bold intentions to hurt her. She screams at Jon, blames him for all her problems despite him being responsible for dead zero of them, and turns fearful and livid at the sight of him. She's traumatized and it's not depicted in a way that's supposed to get the point across while still preserving love for the character. They aren't afraid to make characters genuinely unlikeable for the sake of realism and it's represented s o well. And she isn't the only character who does this when faced with trauma. Tim becomes bitter towards everyone around him and vents his rage on anyone who comes too close. Martin becomes hateful, spiteful, and self isolating. Basira takes complete domination in order to be in control of situations, and becomes accusatory, cold, selfish, unfair. I could go on and on but there isn't a single characters whose reactions art brutally honest to what anyone would say or do. they are unpleasant and messy and excruciating but they're human, they are unapologetically human. heres a perspective that wasn't so easy to see coming, but it actually fairly crucial to this entire scene and what exactly it means. Martin. Martin was the one took the tape of the bystanders interaction with jon, and left it out for the others to see. A silent instruction to intervene. Which. Dear god shows a lot about who he is as a character and just why the lonely is benefitting so much from him. Martin cares about Jon. It's undeniable. Daisy and Basira and Jon and Martin have always worked quite well as foils because as Daisy is Basira source of stability despite Daisy being rather uninvolved, Jon is Martins source of stability, despite Martin purposefully not involving himself. We already know that one of the main reasons Martin is working with Lukas in the first place, was a promise that doing what he's doing is protecting Jon. Everything from his self isolation to his purposeful self sabotage with his peers to every ounce of work he's doing..is really just all for Jon and the promise of his safety. However, despite his care he refuses to get involved. He digs himself in such a deep self sabotage hole that he refuses to even try and do what Jon really needs from him due to being so deep into what he's doing that he can't really turn back. He's so incredibly focused in on his own agenda, that he ends up endangering what he says he values. He's so uninvolved with the happening of things that he sent a tape containing an example of jon acting “evilly”, to the exact people that push him to do so and without considering the danger that may put him in with his coworkers.Martins perspective on this isn't really something you can tell? So it's hard to guess if i did that knowing what would happen and thinking that would be for the best, or did it thinking things would end differently, not realizing what he was doing. is really just all for Jon and the promise of his safety. However, despite his care he refuses to get involved.

He digs himself in such a deep self sabotage hole that he refuses to even try and do what Jon really needs from him due to being so deep into what he's doing that he can't really turn back. He's so incredibly focused in on his own agenda, that he ends up endangering what he says he values. He's so uninvolved with the happening of things that he sent a tape containing an example of Jon acting “evilly”, to the exact people that push him to do so and without considering the danger that may put him in with his coworkers. Martin's perspective on this isn't really something you can tell? So it's hard to guess if i did that knowing what would happen and thinking that would be for the best, or did it thinking things would end differently, not realizing what he was doing. Either way, it's very interesting to see just how dedicated Martin is to Peter Lukas’s plans to a point where even the main motivation to what he's doing in the first place becomes something he avoids at every single cost he can, even when attempting to better things. Of course there's a lot about Martin I could talk about, but it wouldn't be relevant to this episode. Instead it's just interesting to focus on the action Martin takes, the inaction he takes, and just why he does these things.

Martins. certainly an interesting one right now. I keep trying to decipher his motives by leaving the tape out but it's honestly near impossible to fully know what he was counting on happening or not.

Now when you think about this scene in the context of psychologist "Leon Festinger's" cognitive dissonance, it gets even more interesting. For starting context, cognitive dissonance is when ones belief differs from physical evidence at hand. You may have heard of musical dissonance, when two notes in different keys are played in a rather jarring timeframe, made to make the listeners uncomfortable or shudder. Cognitive Dissonance is just this. When someone's belief doesn't line up with the evidence at hand, it creates a jarring discomfort quite similar. An example used by Festinger (1957) may assist in elucidating the theory. A habitual smoker who learns that smoking is bad for health will experience dissonance because the knowledge that smoking is bad for health is dissonant with the cognition that he continues to smoke. He can reduce the dissonance by changing his behavior, that is, he could stop smoking, which would be consonant with the cognition that smoking is bad for health. Alternatively, the smoker could reduce dissonance by changing his cognition about the effect of smoking on health and believe that smoking does not have a harmful effect on health (eliminating the dissonant cognition). He might look for positive effects of smoking and believe that smoking reduces tension and keeps him from gaining weight (adding consonant cognitions). Or he might believe that the risk to health from smoking is negligible compared with the danger of automobile accidents (reducing the importance of the dissonant cognition). In addition, he might consider the enjoyment he gets from smoking to be a very important part of his life (increasing the importance of consonant cognitions). Cognitive dissonance is seen here, particularly in Basira, very starkly. Basira and Melanie believe Jon is a monster. An inhuman thing that's instinct is to only harm others. She views him as this broken twisted thing that needs to be handled and managed so he doesn't destroy the people around him. However, at the same time she's still wholly devoted to Daisy. She holds no blame towards her, and excuses her every action due to her repressed feelings for her and the loyalty she feels towards her, despite Daisy having done far, far worse than Jon. but despite the hypocrisy, they make her feel safe. They give her stability. Because this way, she has a clear opposing force (Jon), and a clear allied force (Daisy and Melanie) and having that gives her the groundedness she longs for. However, cognitive dissonance comes into play. very quickly with this. For example: the evidence of Jon trying to be better. The fact that Jon does everything in his power to help others, the fact that Jon continuously resists using his power if he can't help it, the fact that Jon has a kind heart, the fact that Jon has worked tirelessly for others, the fact that Jons intentions are never once bad.

Basira sees this. Basira sees every. Little bit of this. But she denies. She feels that uncomfortable dissonance between what she believes about Jon and about what's in front of her eyes. So in order to close this gap between belief and evidence, she makes excuses. She convinces herself that Jon is barely trying and that things would be fully better if he actually cared, she convinces herself that Jon is against her and is being manipulative, she convinces herself that he's deliberately doing what he is. All these beliefs that convinces herself of help close that uncomfortable gap between her belief and logic, making that dissonance go away. As Lauren Slater said in her book on Leons Psychology "Opening Skinner's Box": “dissonance is really not about looking at how people change. The theory just didn’t concern itself with that.” Which describes her feelings towards Jon, really quite well. Its doubt of progress. Doubt of character. Doubt of the human ability to change and grow and live. Someone else along with this happens with her relationship with Daisy.

Now for this part if we are to take a look at some more excerpts from Lauren Slater's "Opening Skinner's box:” "Did Festinger ever consider how our justifications are to save not only ourselves, but others too? Did he ever consider how lies and love are intertwined?” This part relates. Incredibly directly to Daisy. Basiras Justification of Daisy's past actions, every single time she says "It's not the same" when talked about Jon and Daisys inhumanness, it's out of pure love. She doesn't want to admit to herself that Daisy may be as in the wrong as she is, but she also doesn't want to admit it to Daisy. She cares about Daisy deeply and doesn't want her to have to face that pain of truly seeing what she's done. She lies to herself out of protection of Daisy, and out of preserving her morals. Because Basira wants to be a good person. She needs to be a good person she needs to stand for the name of justice as a totem, as a symbol. She can't do that if she stood by someone and let them murder countless people, and excuse it, and love that person deeply, and continue to. So she lies to herself. She tries to close the gap in dissonance by justifying Daisy's actions, because god she just needs to. Now, for how Melanie comes into this. It goes without saying that Melanie pretty much also can be directly applied to all of Basiras cognitive dissonance, except for some details. She experiences the same cognitive dissonance as Basira just in an angrier way, with different motives. And it's exactly this that makes the dissonance with Basira and Melanie worse.

“We spend our lives paying attention only to information that is consonant with our beliefs, we surround ourselves with people who will support our beliefs, and we ignore contradictory information that might cause us to question what we have built.” "Soothing can come only if more and more people sign onto the spaceship, so to speak, because if we are all flying this thing together, then surely we must be right.” Companionship. Because if someone believes the same thing as you you cant be crazy. If someone sees what you see then it affirms you, makes you feel like you must be right since you aren't the only one who thinks this. That's what happens with Basira and Melanie. They both experience with dissonance, and find companionship in it. They think. "Oh, well I'm not alone in this belief, so I doubt it's wrong." Their beliefs are affirmed, and they strengthen due to this. There's no room to doubt yourself when everyones telling you youre right. Another variable when it comes to companionship, is just how much both of them long for it. Melanie and Basira are in such lonesome, excruciating places in their lives. meaning that the companionship that comes with this common dissonance is strengthened simply by the fact that they both long for allies and for support. “The psychological opposition of irreconcilable ideas (cognitions) held simultaneously by one individual, created a motivating force that would lead, under proper conditions, to the adjustment of one’s belief to fit one’s behavior—instead of changing one’s behavior to fit one’s belief (the sequence conventionally assumed).”

#the magnus archives #magnus archives #jonathan sims #jon sims #themagnusarchives #magnusarchives #tma #magpod #basira hussain #daisy tonner #melanie king #martin blackwood #the magnus pod #elias bouchard

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starsreminisce · 4 months

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SJM Romance Week

Day Three

Wedding

AN: has sex/adult language. I don’t typically post sexually explicit fanfic but how can there be a fae if no frenzy.

Hope you enjoy!

Lucien Vanserra had always prided himself on his strength and control, but in the presence of Elain Archeron, all semblance of restraint melted away like wax in a flame. She was his weakness, his greatest temptation, and he found himself utterly powerless to resist her allure.

As Elain slowly squeezed his cock, a wave of pleasure washed over him, and he could feel himself hardening beneath her small hand despite having thoroughly satisfied her moments before. Her screams of ecstasy still echoed in his ears, a testament to the intensity of their passion.

He watched, mesmerized, as she positioned herself on top of him, her movements slow and deliberate as she slid down his length, taking him deep inside her with each languid rock of her hips. The sight of her impaled on him, her body moving with a fluid grace that left her slickness coating him entirely, stirred something primal within him.

When she finally voiced her desire to accept the bond, Lucien's heart skipped a beat, his gaze locking with hers in a mixture of surprise and anticipation.

"I knew you wanted something," he murmured, his voice laced with lazy amusement as he kneaded her thigh.

Elain's gasp was music to his ears as she arched her back, urging him deeper inside her. "It's time, Lucien," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with determination. "Or should I say, my lord?"

Lucien's growl of approval rumbled through the room, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I want to accept it, my lord," Elain continued, her voice filled with conviction. "I want this forever. I want you forever, my lord."

Despite his reservations, Lucien couldn't deny the overwhelming desire that surged within him at her words. "They don't know that you and I have... moved past our differences," he warned, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin.

"I don't care, my lord," Elain replied without hesitation, her movements growing more urgent as she sought to drive him to the edge.

“Frenzy. We can’t frenzy when you’re bound to return in two days,” Lucien reminded her, his voice tinged with regret.

Elain paused, her expression shifting from urgency to disappointment. “We can frenzy in two days, my lord,” she countered, though a hint of longing lingered in her eyes.

Lucien couldn't help but laugh at Elain's persistence, marveling at her ability to turn even the most serious of conversations into something playful and lighthearted. “I need a week. You need a month,” he joked, though his heart ached with the desire to be with her always.

But Elain paid his jest no mind, her focus solely on the intoxicating pleasure they shared. She continued to rock against him, her movements driving him to the brink of ecstasy. "Entirely your fault you feel so good," she teased, her voice husky with desire.

Lucien's desire burned like wildfire, consuming every thought as he surrendered to the primal urge coursing through him. With a low growl of need, he surged forward, his movements fueled by a hunger that only she could satisfy. His hands roamed her body with a desperate longing, igniting sparks of pleasure with every touch.

Elain's response was equally fervent, her gasps and moans echoing in the room as she arched against him, her nails digging into his skin in a deliciously painful grip. Their bodies moved together in a frantic dance, each movement driving them closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As they finally reached the peak of their passion, their cries mingled in the air, a symphony of pleasure that filled the room with its intensity. In that moment of pure abandon, there was only the two of them, lost in the ecstasy of their union.

"I love you, Elain," Lucien whispered, his voice husky with emotion as he held her close, their bodies still entwined in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

"I love you too, Lucien," Elain murmured, her voice soft and filled with tenderness as she nestled against him, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his chest. And in that moment, as they sat together in the quiet intimacy of their shared love, the uncertainty melted away, replaced by a profound sense of peace and belonging.

"There is one more thing I need to do tomorrow before you can accept it," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Elain looked up at him, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Are we really doing this?" she asked, her smile playful yet filled with adoration.

Lucien chuckled softly, his heart swelling with love for her. "It was your idea," he replied, his tone gentle yet resolute. "Tomorrow," he agreed, a smile tugging at his lips. "We'll sort things out tomorrow."

As they settled back down together, Elain nestled into his embrace, her head resting against his chest. Lucien wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as they drifted off to sleep, the warmth of their love enveloping them in a cocoon of comfort and contentment. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the female lying beside him, for the love they shared and the adventures that awaited them.

The next morning, Lucien awoke to find Elain already up and about, the tantalizing scent of bacon filling the air. With a smile, he made his way to the kitchen, where Elain greeted him with a bright smile and a plate of breakfast.

"I made you breakfast," she said brightly, her eyes shining with affection as she held out the plate to him.

“And my eating it means that you accept,” Lucien said cautiously, his brow furrowing with uncertainty.

“Isn't that the one more thing you need to do before I accept it?” Elain asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.

Lucien chuckled softly and tapped her nose. “No,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

He glanced down at the plate and chuckled again. “You made everything into hearts,” he observed, a fond smile playing on his lips.

“Worked extra … heart to make those,” grumbled Elain playfully.

Lucien pulled her into a warm embrace, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t ask Mor to take you away somewhere, please. I promise I’m not resisting. There is just one more thing I want to do before you accept it, and it’s important to me.”

"Tell me?" Elain asked, settling down at the table as Lucien grabbed some bread and cheese.

Lucien joined her, taking a moment to savor the warmth of her presence. "Frenzy for starters," he said with a playful grin. "Though I suppose we could come up with an idea that keeps you and me here until it... surpasses."

Elain regarded him with amusement, a playful glint in her eyes. "You are absolutely miserable, hopelessly sick, and I sought pity on your poor, miserable soul to tend to you."

Lucien responded with a smirk, feigning a cough in response to her words. "How very kind of you," he remarked, his tone laced with playful sarcasm.

Elain chuckled, her smile widening. "Told you you were sick. Can't leave the bed, that's how sick you are, right?"

Lucien's smirk deepened. "But I'll be taking your temperature quite often," he teased.

Elain rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of laughter in her voice. "Lucien!"

With a thoughtful expression, Lucien nibbled on his bread. "That would work. You are tending to my poor, miserable, sick self, and I am on the brink of my death that you would need to stay here."

Elain nodded, determination shining in her eyes. "That settles it. They already know that you are."

Lucien snorted with laughter. "You've really thought this through," he said, admiration lacing his words. "Anything else, Lady Elain?"

Elain's expression turned solemn as she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before speaking. "Well, there is one more condition," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I, Elain Archeron, hereby present a bargain to Lucien Vanserra. Lucien Vanserra is banned from the kitchen now until he accepts and eats any and all food I offer him."

Her words hung in the air, carrying with them a weight of determination and resolve.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You've really thought this through," he said again, this time with awe. "I accept your bargain."

Elain beamed at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She crawled into his lap, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. He could feel the warmth of her body against his, the promise of lazy lovemaking lingering in the air.

But he pulled away gently, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I need to save something for you for frenzy," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

As soon as the words left his lips, Lucien scented her arousal, and he couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He kissed her with fervor, his desire mounting as he pressed her down onto his aching cock. The thought of her being his wife in mere hours fueled his passion, and Elain sensed it too, her movements becoming more urgent as she sought to satisfy their mutual craving.

With a growl of frustration, he finally pulled away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I need to leave, or else I won't get to do what I wanted," he said, his voice strained with desire. He tore himself away from her embrace, his body still burning with longing as he forced himself to leave her side.

With every step he took towards the door, Lucien could feel Elain's gaze burning into his back, her longing evident in the air between them. He clenched his fists, willing himself to maintain control as he fought against the overwhelming urge to return to her embrace.

As he reached the threshold of the room, he turned back to look at her, his eyes dark with desire. "I promise," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion, "we'll have all the time in the world for that once I'm done with what I need to do."

Elain's eyes softened, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I'll be waiting," she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation.

With one last longing look, Lucien tore himself away and left the house, his heart heavy with the weight of desire and anticipation. He knew that once he had completed his task, he would return to her, and they would finally be able to indulge in the passion that burned between them.

***

Elain busied herself in the kitchen, grateful for the distraction that preparing their meal provided. She knew Lucien would likely forgo the breakfast she had made him that morning, but she couldn't blame herself for trying.

She hadn't expected to blurt out her desire to officially bind herself to him last night during their lovemaking. But the way he had reacted, the way he had looked at her with awe and worship as she pleasured him, filled her heart with a sense of joy and contentment that she had never known before.

She had hoped for something more romantic, a surprise for him when he returned home from overseeing the rebuilding efforts. She had meticulously planned the menu based on his favorite dishes, each one a tribute to the stories he had shared from his childhood.

Despite the temptation to indulge him with just half a piece of bacon and watch him surrender himself to her desires, Elain had opted for a three-course meal. She remembered Feyre's casual reheating of soup for Rhys, Nesta's offering of a stale biscuit, and Cassian's agreement to a ceremony. Her own wedding planning with Graysen had been a disaster, and if she could avoid the whole ordeal, she would.

As she worked in the kitchen, Elain couldn't shake the feeling of longing that settled in her chest. They hadn't made love that morning, nor had there been a lunchtime tryst to tie her over until his return. She could only imagine that Lucien would deny her advances when he came home, especially since he had instructed her to dress up for his return from wherever he was.

The clock continued to tick on, each passing minute bringing Elain closer to the moment when she would be reunited with Lucien. Soon, she thought, soon they would be an officially mated pair, bound together in love and devotion. As she put the finishing touches on their meal, a sense of excitement and anticipation bubbled within her.

She dressed herself in a pretty dress, choosing something appropriate for the Spring Court. With a sense of preparation, she made sure to pack some ready-to-go meals, anticipating the frenzy that would likely follow the acceptance. Containers filled with cut-up meat and cheese filled the icebox, ready for them to grab during moments of hunger between their instinctual urges.

As she covered her face with her hands, doubts began to creep in. Had she been too insatiable with him already? Would their newfound union only intensify their desires, making it impossible for them to live apart? Even after Lucien "recovered from his sickness," what would become of them then? The weight of uncertainty settled heavily on her shoulders, and she couldn't help but wonder if her decision had been a terrible mistake.

But then, as the clock dinged and she caught the familiar scent of Lucien at the door, all doubts faded away. With a rush of excitement, she hurried to greet him, her heart pounding with anticipation as she saw his kind, scarred face smiling back at her.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice warm with affection.

With all her doubts cast aside, Elain met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Yes," she replied, her voice filled with conviction.

Her heart skipped a beat when he smiled wider and took her hand in his, his touch sending shivers down her spine.

"I would ask you how your day was, but—" Lucien began.

"I would ask you why you aren't eating something I made you," Elain interrupted with a playful smile.

Lucien chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he leaned in to kiss her hand gently before leading her towards one of her favorite meadows in the Spring Court. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers, and as twilight descended, the bioluminescent glands of the flora began to emit a soft, ethereal glow, casting the meadow in a magical light.

As they walked, memories flooded Elain's mind of the first time Lucien had brought her here, the day after Calanmai. It was then that they had finally given in to their desires, reigniting the magic within the dying court and bringing hope for its revival.

"If you wanted to eat here," Elain said with a soft smile, "I could have made us a picnic."

Lucien shook his head, a mysterious glint in his eyes as he reached into his pocket and procured a letter, her father's seal adorning the envelope.

Elain's heart swelled with emotion as she read the words of wisdom from her father, each sentence a tender reminder of his love and guidance. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as she absorbed every word, feeling her father's presence in every line of his familiar script. It was as if he was there with her, offering his support and encouragement for the journey ahead.

When she finally set the letter down, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Lucien on one knee before her, a dazzling engagement ring held out in his hand—a jeweled lotus, a symbol of their love and the beauty that had blossomed between them.

"Elain Archeron," Lucien began, his voice filled with emotion as he looked up at her with adoration shining in his eyes. "From the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I was meant to be yours. And from the first moment I saw the depth of your soul, I knew that I was yours forever. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?"

Elain's breath caught in her throat as she gazed into his eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his love for her. She felt tears of joy prickle at the corners of her eyes as she whispered, "We're mates, Lucien."

"Yes, as fae," Lucien replied, his smile soft and tender. "But our love transcends our fae nature. I want the whole world to know that you are mine and I am yours, in ways that even humans can understand. I want to stand before everyone we know and declare my love for you, to make a vow that will bind us together for eternity."

Tears streamed down Elain's cheeks as she reached out to cup Lucien's face in her hands, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and the sincerity in his words. "Yes, Lucien," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "A thousand times yes."

Tears of joy continued to cascade as Lucien slipped the ring onto her finger, the sparkling diamond catching the light and shimmering with every movement. She admired it with awe, feeling the weight of its significance settle on her soul.

"Lucien," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Would you... do you want a ceremony?"

His response was filled with nothing but love and understanding. "I want whatever you want, Elain," he said softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "We can tell your human friends we eloped and throw a grand reception, or we can wait and have a disgustingly huge ceremony, or we can simply go down to the priestess to confirm our bond and let people figure it out for themselves. Whatever makes you happy, that's what I want."

Elain bit her lip, feeling overwhelmed by the depth of his devotion. Perching herself on his lap, she gazed into his eyes with all the love in her heart. "I already told you," she said with a playful smile. "There's a meal waiting for you that I want to eat with you, and I want to finish everything before you thank me in a way only a mated male can."

Lucien grinned mischievously. "Finish everything?" he teased. "Are you going to be able to control yourself?"

Elain let out a whimper, her cheeks flushing as desire coursed through her veins. She leaned in close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, "I make no promises."

***

Lucien's heart raced as he felt her warm breath against his skin, sending shivers down his spine. With a swift motion, he winnowed them back to the house, carrying her effortlessly across the threshold. As they entered, he beheld the romantic table setting that Elain had prepared, a smile spreading across his face at the sight.

He took a seat, anticipation building as Elain approached with the first course—a sourdough bowl filled with lobster bisque. Lucien's eyes widened in surprise as he took a spoonful, the familiar taste instantly flooding his senses.

“You told me that Jesminda made this often for you,” Elain began, her voice soft with emotion. “Took me a while, but her sister shared her recipe. I don’t want to replace her memory, but—”

“It tastes just like hers,” Lucien interrupted, his eyes brimming with tears of gratitude.

Elain swallowed, relieved that she hadn't overstepped. She felt a surge of warmth as Lucien took her hand and squeezed it tenderly. “Thank you. I thought I’d never have it again, but thank you.”

As they savored the last spoonfuls of the lobster bisque, the ambiance seemed to hum with warmth and affection. Elain's heart swelled with joy at the sight of Lucien's contented smile, knowing that she had succeeded in bringing him a moment of happiness.

With a graceful flourish, Elain cleared away the empty bowls and returned with the next course—a mini beef wellington accompanied by sautéed green beans. The aroma of savory herbs and spices filled the air, wrapping around them like a comforting embrace.

Lucien's eyes lit up with delight as he took in the sight of the perfectly cooked dish before him. "Beef wellington," he murmured, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "This reminds me of cozy evenings by the fire, with the leaves turning golden outside."

Elain smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for the man sitting across from her. "I wanted to capture that feeling," she confessed, her gaze meeting his. "To create a moment that we could cherish together, just like those cozy evenings you described."

Their fingers intertwined across the table, a silent exchange of love and gratitude passing between them. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their shared affection, they felt as though time stood still, allowing them to savor each other's company and the simple pleasures of a homemade meal made with love.

As the evening wore on and they finished the last bites of the savory beef wellington, the atmosphere between them seemed to crackle with anticipation. Elain's heart fluttered with nervous excitement as she prepared to unveil the final course—a decadent dessert that she had been saving for this special moment.

Moments later, Elain returned to the dining room, a platter in hand, but to Lucien's surprise, she was completely naked, save for a seductive smile playing on her lips. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her, his heart racing with desire and adoration.

Elain sauntered towards him with slow, deliberate steps, the platter held out before her like a tantalizing offering. On it lay a decadent array of strawberries with a small bowl of warmed chocolate, each one a tempting invitation to indulge in the pleasures of the senses.

Lucien's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her, his eyes tracing the curves of her body with hungry appreciation. The air between them crackled with tension as she approached, a coy smile playing on her lips as she held out a strawberry dipped in chocolate.

"Indulge me," she murmured, her voice a husky whisper as she offered him the sweet treat. "Let me feed you."

With a longing gaze, Lucien accepted the offering, his lips brushing against her fingers as he took a bite. A drop of chocolate dripped onto Elain's bare skin, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. With a playful glint in his eyes, Lucien leaned forward, capturing the chocolate with his tongue as he traced a path along her skin.

A shiver of pleasure ran through Elain at the sensation, her breath catching in her throat as he continued to lavish her with kisses, each one filled with a tender reverence that spoke of his love and desire for her.

“You need to finish the meal, my lord,” Elain said in between gasps.

With a teasing glint in his eyes, Lucien accepted a new strawberry from her fingers, his lips parting just enough to capture the juicy fruit. Elain's heart skipped a beat at the sight, her desire for him growing with each passing moment. As he savored the sweet taste, chocolate dripped down his chin, and without hesitation, she leaned in to capture the tempting morsel with her tongue, relishing the intimate exchange between them.

“Where does my beautiful mate want me to thank her first?” Lucien said, his voice husky with desire as he felt her tongue trace a path from his chin to his neck.

“Outside,” she said against his ear, her words sending a shiver down his spine. “Just like the first time.”

With a silent nod, Lucien lifted her into his arms, carrying her outside into the cool night air. As they gazed up at the twinkling stars above, Elain's fingers deftly worked at the fastenings of his clothing, anticipation building with each passing moment. The glow of the moon cast an ethereal light on his golden skin as she stripped him bare under the star-flecked sky.

Reaching for him, her touch sent shivers down his spine as her tongue traced the contours of his length. Her lips trailed down, savoring every inch of him with tantalizing strokes. Lucien's breath hitched in his throat, his desire mounting with each caress. But before she could take him fully into her mouth, he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“That’s not the way I want to thank you, my love,” he said hoarsely, his voice thick with desire.

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I wasn’t finished yet, my lord,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns along his skin.

Lucien's breath grew shallow as he watched his cock disappear into Elain’s mouth. He was powerless, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through him as she took him deeper, her moans vibrating against his cock. His fingers tangled in her hair, a silent plea for her to continue, to take him to the heights of ecstasy he knew only she could reach. With each movement, she squeezed and twisted the base, eliciting a symphony of pleasure that echoed in his mind. The sensation of her throat tightening around his tip sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, driving him ever closer to the edge of bliss.

She looked up at him, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes as she gagged, saliva dribbling from her lips. Her gaze was intense, filled with a mix of desire and devotion that stirred something deep within him. In that moment, he realized just how much he loved her, how much he needed her, and how grateful he was to have her as his mate. With a ragged breath, he surrendered to the pleasure, his release flooding over him in waves of pure ecstasy as Elain continued to worship him with her mouth.

In that moment, as their bodies merged in a dance of passion under the moonlit sky, he knew that in Elain’s arms, he had found his true home.

***

"Nesta," Feyre cautioned as they surveyed the newly revitalized Spring Court. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Nesta adjusted the basket on her arm with a sigh. "Look, I am trying, okay? It’s been two weeks, close to three weeks, since Lucien has been sick, and I'm sure Elain is sick and tired of having to play nurse."

Feyre sighed, her expression skeptical. "Let’s make it quick before Rhys and Tamlin catch on that we're here."

Nesta knocked on the door. Silence. She knocked again, but there was still no response.

"Are they out?" Nesta asked, turning to Feyre.

"They shouldn’t be," Feyre replied, her brow furrowed as she jiggled the doorknob. “Elain said that he’s been sick to the point that he can’t leave the bed.”

To their surprise, the door swung open easily.

"Then why is the door unlocked?" Nesta questioned, her concern growing.

Feyre's brow furrowed deeper as she pushed the door open cautiously. "I don't know, but we should be careful."

As they stepped inside, the air seemed charged with an unusual energy. The sound of soft murmurs reached their ears, and Nesta exchanged a puzzled glance with Feyre.

“It just smells of sex in here,” Nesta frowned. “Like it stained the house.”

“Part of his sickness maybe? She made it seem like he was dying, after all,” Feyre mused, her expression troubled.

Before they could contemplate further, Nesta and Feyre cautiously made their way through the house, their senses heightened with apprehension. They followed the soft murmurs, the tension in the air thickening with each step, until they reached the ajar bedroom door.

Nesta reached out and pushed it open slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. As they stepped inside, the sight that greeted them left them both speechless.

Nesta turned from Feyre, her eyes widening in shock. "Oh."

Both sisters paled at the unexpected scene unfolding before them. Elain hung suspended upside down, her ankles crossed as Lucien held her effortlessly, his expression a mix of concentration and determination as he adjusted her position, grunting about how tight she was. Meanwhile, Elain's face was a picture of pure bliss, completely lost in the moment and unaware of their presence.

They exchanged a stunned glance, unsure of what to do or say in such a situation. Nesta cleared her throat awkwardly, but neither of them made a move to interrupt the intimate moment unfolding before their eyes.

Elain's voice broke through the silence, her words filled with a mixture of desperation and pleasure as she uttered curses and pleaded with Lucien not to stop.

A stunned silence enveloped them as they took in the surreal sight before quickly retreating, their minds reeling with confusion and disbelief.

Without a word, the sisters quickly turned around and dropped the basket on the front door.

"Uh," Nesta stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Well."

"Elain is going to have to tell us how to do that," Feyre muttered, equally flustered as they made a hasty exit.

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