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birdbaddie · 1 month

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Caved In

*Screams* How are you doing this fine day? Just a heads up, shit goes from 0 to 100 real quick so yeah. Also I can't stop writing angst??? help??? thanks and toodles!!!

--SUMMARY-- You go on your first mission and almost your last.

Satoru Gojo x f.Reader

Darting your eyes around, you’d never felt a place so eerie before—the gravel path leading you to your destination with thick bushes surrounding you so you can’t deviate. For a first mission, it was already starting out rough and you weren’t even where you had to be yet.

And why did you have to do this in the dark?!?!?

It made you more aware of your surroundings as your instincts told you to check around constantly. You had to tell yourself that it was no different if the sun was there instead but it was hard to believe it when all of your senses were being tested.

“The more nervous you are about this, the more likely you are to fail”

Nanami’s voice made you jump as you briefly forgot he was there too.

You were told he’d be coming along only to assist. The school wanted to gauge your ability on a real mission so they could train you appropriately. It made you feel a bit better that someone was here if anything went wrong but Nanami was only a first year just like you- you weren’t doubting his abilities or anything however you thought it would make better sense if someone with more experience would help you.

You didn’t fight it though, You’d take anything they’d give you.

You let your wings slightly curl around you as you made your way forward. It was impractical if anything surprised you both, but it gave you some sort of comfort so you could focus more.

You stole a glance at how Nanami was currently handling himself and you only saw a bored face that screamed ‘I just want to go back to bed’.

It made you realize that Nanami probably had more experience than you initially thought but he was still human, he surely can’t be as emotionless as he seems.

“Hey, Nanami-san?”

Your meek voice gave away your fear immediately and it made you embarrassed. But you didn’t dwell on it as Nanami only sighed, still not turning to look at you which you were grateful for as you were as red as Suguru’s bike.

“Just call me Nanami”

Your embarrassment flared again but you tried your best to ignore it.

“Ok…….I was just wondering how many missions you had done before this one”

Nanami rested his hand on the handle of his blunt sword as he took note of the sign for the aquarium up ahead. He was never one to be too careful.

“Only 9, and most of them were more difficult than what this one is going to be”

The mission description told you about a grade-3 curse living in an abandoned aquarium in the middle of Chiba. It was only an hour and a half drive from the school and with Nanami with you, you hoped the thing that took the most time would be the driving.

However, when you got there, you saw the aquarium was just part of a big abandoned safari park- Meaning you would have to do a bit of trekking. You thought about flying to the building but that would suggest leaving Nanami behind and you definitely weren’t strong enough to carry him. And one thing you knew, is that you did not want to do this alone.

The silence came back as you and Nanami continued on, you knew Nanami wasn’t the most talkative person you’ve met (Even though you’ve only known him for not even 3 weeks yet) but your uneasiness was still present and burning through your body so you had no choice but to force conversation with the first thing that came to your mind.

“Nanami, What do you think of Gojo?”

Instantly turning red again when you realized what you asked. This was just a humiliate yourself night huh?

At this question, Nanami finally turned to look at you. Confusion and annoyance were present on his face- with a little bit of suspicion.

For another long moment, Nanami didn’t say anything and just kept staring at you.

Getting confused yourself by his lack of answer, you looked up to see what was going on only to lock eyes with his.

Suddenly feeling intimidated, you were malfunctioning as you didn’t know what to do.

‘Why is he looking at me like that?’ ‘What does he want me to do??’ ‘Does he think-’

“What about you?”

“Huh?”

“What do you think of that idiot?”

You stopped walking as you didn’t think Nanami would throw the question back at you.

Why was he the first thing that came to your mind anyway?

“I-”

But you paused yourself as you really thought about it. You tried to think back to all of the interactions you’ve had with him since joining the school but you couldn’t comprehend any of them as his blue eyes took up all of your thoughts like a virus.

You’d never seen eyes like that before, they were enchanting. You only got one glance at them when Satoru took his glasses off briefly to clean them one day when you were going to ask him something. But as soon as he looked into your eyes, you completely forgot why you were there and ran off like a weirdo.

But in the few seconds you were able to see his unnatural irises it was like you could see everything.

Everything, including his thoughts. His eyes were like two mirrors to his consciousness that gave you more questions as you ran away.

You thought you could see hope and determination- but you also thought you saw fatigue, detachment, and longing.

You mulled over it for days after that encounter but you weren’t brave enough to ever ask Gojo himself about it. You’d known each other for about a week, so you didn’t think it was your place at the time.

“I think he’s……cool”

You briskly walked past Nanami to prevent the conversation from carrying on. Cursing at yourself for trying to talk in the first place.

Nanami raised his eyebrow at your response. He was expecting a whole paragraph to spill from you as you seemed to think hard about how you were going to answer.

Truthfully, Nanami couldn't care less what you thought about your upperclassman. Always seeing him parade around the school grounds with that big ego of his and how he would flirt with just about any female out of the school grounds. Satoru Gojo had zero respect for himself and the people around him so Nanami avoided him as much as possible.

He expected you to fawn over Gojo like all of the others, but nothing more.

So he didn’t know whether your one-word answer was better or worse than hearing a paragraph.

When you first joined the school, you were like a baby fawn tripping over its own legs. Now- he would say you’re still like a clumsy baby fawn but you knew the basics at least.

He, Haibara, and Shoko have been the main ones to help you on your journey so far. And from where he’s gotten to know you, he hoped you’d never get involved with the Gojo heir. If he managed to get his claws in you, that would be it. He knows Gojo’s stance on love and he doesn’t want to see you get treated like some pawn in Gojo’s game but he also can’t control you.

He just has to put his trust in you to make the best decision.

Ok so maybe he did care about what you thought of Satoru Gojo, but only in the way a big brother worries for his little sister.

Quickly catching up to you, you guys had finally arrived at the aquarium. Not having to worry about the veil as the secretary that drove you put it up as soon as you got here.

Taking a deep breath you were about to walk through the threshold of the aquarium entrance until Nanami put his hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“Remember not to use your technique too much, the report warned that the building was in a state of decay and could collapse any moment”

Looking up, you were so determined to get this over and done with that you didn’t notice the overhanging huge statue of a cartoon squid barely being held up. Only a few wires desperately clinging onto it so it didn’t come crashing down on you. Vines and dead weeds had crawled up the sides, You couldn’t even guess what colour the building should have been as it was covered in a thick coat of black mold.

The strong smell of rotting fish, rust, and dampness wafts into your face as the building groans and creeks every other minute.

‘We might die in here before we even see the curse’

Taking a step back, your wings dropped fully as you realized the gravity of the situation.

“Nanami……….I’m scared”

He barely caught what you said to him, taking one look at your fear-stricken face- tears threatening to fall- it took him back to the first day you arrived at Tokyo jujutsu high. Face almost an exact replica as you revert back to the shy, closed-off anomaly. What happened during the 24 hours before you walked through the gates of the school was only something you knew, but everyone else could see it made you traumatized.

He was never good at comfort, you surely knew this already too. But he’d try.

“Look, we can always turn back if you want. Some perfectly capable sorcerers could’ve done this mission but they send two first years instead,” he gauges your reaction as he can see you start to think about your options. “No one will blame you”

‘No one will think you’re weak’ is what he wanted to say.

You weigh your options carefully, considering everything.

And honestly, the pros of just leaving right now outweigh the pros of going through with it.

You felt defeated as the statistics were adding up.

“Ok….I want to go back”

Nanami only slightly nodded his head in acknowledgment as he turned on his heel and started walking, expecting you to follow.

All you felt was disappointment as you trailed behind Nanami like a child who had just been told off.

Until a single thought went through your head that stopped you.

Nanami not noticing as he kept walking.

‘What would Gojo do?’

You’d watch him spar with his friend and Nanami sometimes and one thing you gathered from each one is that he never chooses the easiest way.

He’s the strongest. Definitely stronger than all of the other students at Tokyo put together. You’d learned how his techniques work after only a couple of days of being at the school and you’d seen so many openings where he could have won in one fell swoop. Not to mention his surprising ability at martial arts.

You walked up to him one day as he was getting something from the vending machine. And through all of your stuttering and twitching of your wings, you managed to blurt out the question that came whenever he finished a spar.

“Why I don’t just win?” His usually cocky smirk turned into a genuine one as he took one sip from his sweet drink and threw you one you didn’t realize he bought. “Well princess, if I just won in 5 seconds then the others wouldn’t even get to use their technique”

Quickly downing the rest of the bottle he expertly threw it so it landed in the trash can perfectly.

Taking one of your hands that wasn’t holding your own drink, he twirled you once which left you dizzy as he walked off towards the dorms.

“We can’t just have one strong sorcerer now can we?”

Those words struck you as you realised you were just taking the easy option by leaving and not doing anything.

You knew no one was going to be as strong as Gojo, one can only get so close.

And if he were here now, he would already be on the way back to the school from a successful mission. He probably wouldn’t think twice about going in and he’d probably let the curse live a little longer just to play with it.

But he’d probably encourage you to go in and show the curse just who’s stronger, and you want to be stronger. Not just for the people who need saving but for yourself. And if you didn’t go in you’d never know if you were strong enough.

So you did either a brave or stupid thing, no more second thoughts- and flew straight through the entrance

Feeling a whoosh, Nanami turned around to see what happened only not to see you anywhere.

A single feather fell onto the floor right at the entrance of the aquarium and Nanami pieced together what happened quite quickly.

‘Shit’

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You figured out that rushing in was a stupid idea.

No matter where you went you’d hit a dead end. You’re covering ground quickly without disturbing the building too much but at this rate, you’ll bump into the curse without Nanami.

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing that made you regret everything.

Gracefully landing in the middle of one of those rooms where the fish surround you, you take a look at the huge map of the aquarium. You spot quickly where you are and take out your phone. You flip open your phone and send a quick text to Nanami letting him know where you were.

Clicking off his contact, Gojo’s caught your eye.

Running your fingers over the buttons, you bit your lip as you debated calling him. It’s late but he’s probably still awake.

You really had no reason to call him but you were trying to think of a good excuse so you don’t intentionally disturb him.

Before you could decide, a single waterdrop fell on top of your screen.

You wiped it off quickly to not damage the phone the school graciously provided for you.

Thinking this place was just as damaged as the rest of the building, you looked up to see how bad the glass was cracked only to stare into two huge dark eyes of the curse you were hunting.

Your breathing stopped, Wings freezing as you dared not to make a sound.

It strongly resembled a Japanese spider crab only it was about 5 times larger. Its shell was a dark blue and its legs were long and looked too sharp for your liking. But the thing that made your heart race was its gaping mouth. It was about the size of a beach ball, any movement made you believe it would simply jump down and just swallow you in one.

Water dripped from the void of its mouth as it hadn't moved since you locked eyes with it.

With trembling hands, you went into panic mode as you quickly tried to find a way out.

‘If I fly straight away to get some distance I could have a chance to land a hit with my Kusarigama. But I didn’t even see it come in so I don’t know how fast it is, maybe if I use my shield first-’

A text dinged from the phone in your hand and the chaos began.

As you predicted, the crab-curse lunged at you from the ceiling of the glass room. Mouth open ready to end you in seconds.

‘Survive’ was all that was running through your head as you ducked and let your wings propel you as far back as possible.

The curse wasn’t as fast as you thought it was going to be but it was still quick enough to have you making split-second decisions.

It let out a loud screech as it landed on the floor and went for you.

All eight of its legs dug into the concrete as it sprinted for you, its pincers stretched to get you as fast as possible.

Flying out of the room, you grabbed the two mini scythes with matching hanging maces from your hips as you swung them around to get used to their weight.

Gojo imbued them with his own energy as he said ‘A princess needs the strongest weapons!’ you missed his wink as you were too fascinated by the way the scythes were changing because of his energy.

You’ve been training with them for the past week and the traces left from Gojo’s energy always left you with a tingling sensation in your hands. It feels familiar, letting you ground yourself as you plan your next attack.

The curse is still running at you with no intention of slowing down so you think you could use that to your advantage.

Circling the large cylindrical fish tank in the middle of the large room you charge at the curse head-on.

‘No more running’

Turning at the last second, you swung one of your Kusarigama- effectively slashing off one of the curse’s pincers.

However, the curse also moved to follow you and at the last moment managed to dig its other pincer into your left wing. And at the speed you were going, the pincer was forced to drag back and leave a big jagged rip in the middle of your wing- pulling some feathers out.

The searing pain was almost instant as tears immediately sprung up and started to flow down your cheeks.

Your wing- now almost in two pieces, was quickly turning red from the steady blood loss.

Moving them causes you to yelp in pain, so you are forced to land on your feet roughly.

‘This is bad’

You struggle to get your bearings again as a burning sensation starts to spread through your wing. It felt like someone just took a hot iron rod and was digging it into your wing, slowly dragging it and not letting up.

Through your tears, you could see the curse coming at you quickly again. The missing pincer seemed not to faze it one bit.

‘What do I do?’

You took shaky steps back as you were running out of options fast.

You only had one more edge on the curse, after that, you’d be as defenseless as a non-sorcerer.

Holstering Your scythes, you let your technique flow through you.

Waiting for the perfect moment to activate it as you’d only be able to use it for 5 seconds max.

Holding your hands in front of you, you waited for it to get closer.

20 yards, then 10, then 5.

And as it felt like there was only a breath between you and the curse, you activated your technique.

Ducking so it practically flew over the top of you, you created a shield coming off of your arm in a sharp point so it almost resembled a sword.

It ripped straight through the shell of the curse- through its neck.

You swung your sword-shield sideways, decapitating it as black sludge exploded from the body.

The tar-like substance covered you as you scrambled to get out from underneath it when you saw the body beginning to fall.

Panting, you think carefully about what just happened in the past 5 minutes. Now covered in old tank water, blood, and the smelly black liquid from the curse.

A wide grin spread across your face as excitement started to build.

“I actually killed a curse!” You started to hop on your feet as you were still somehow full of energy until the movement jostled your wing too much and almost made you crumple to the floor from the pain.

After a minute of it happening, you guessed the adrenalin kept you from feeling the pain too much. But now it was starting to come down and the pain was unbelievable.

But you were distracted again by the sound of rushing footsteps coming closer to you.

You turned your head to confirm it was Nanami running towards you. His blunt sword was held tightly in his hands as you saw him assess the situation.

“Y/N!!!”

His face was the epitome of rage but the pain was making you too delusional to notice.

“Nanami! Look! I killed the curse all by myself!” You picked up the head of the curse and started waving it in front of Nanami to show off.

“Put that down! I need to look at how bad your injuries are”

Sensing no danger, he sheathed his sword as he angrily stomped to where you were.

“It tried to get the jump on me but I was like WHOOSH and did some crazy moves- and then I slashed through its arm- it managed to get me but-Nanami it was sooo cool!”

You animatedly threw your arms to accentuate your words and at this point, Nanami was sure you were going crazy. From the situation or the pain, he didn’t know.

He rubbed his forehead in frustration as he knew scolding you in this state would do nothing.

“Where did it get you?” Reaching for the mini first aid kit he brought with him.

Putting your arms into a waltzing position, you did a twirl which only made you giggle as you thought of Gojo dancing with you.

You imagined a grand ballroom as you two danced like you were the only ones there. It put a big smile on your face as it felt like a far-away fantasy.

“Y/n focus. I need to-” He looked up from his first aid kit to see you mid-twirl.

Your one wing was drenched in so much blood, Nanami almost couldn’t see your injury in the dark and smelly room.

Your usually folded wings were hanging limply and almost dragging on the floor. Blood steadily dripped from your left wing and left a trail as you danced. At first glance, he thought you might’ve broken your wing as it had a weird shape to it. But as you twirled, he could see the messy rip through it when it would move differently from the rest of your wing.

Nanami had to hold his hand to his mouth to stop the bile from coming out.

The matted feathers and exposed bones looked excruciating. Nanami knew this was a problem bigger than his first aid kit.

“Change of plans,” Grabbing the small roll of gauze, he hoped it would slow the bleeding with the time they had. “I’m going to call the school so Shoko can come and help you”

Stopping mid side-step, you looked back at Nanami as he made his way towards you with the gauze.

“Shoko?? We don’t need Shoko, I’m finnneeee”

As you tried to stumble away, Nanami maneuvered around you and started to wrap the gauze around your wing so it closed the wound.

You hissed when Nanami started touching your wing so you stayed still to not tug the gauze.

It grew quiet as Nanami had to keep bending to reach the bottom of your wing, The silence letting you recall what you did.

Nanami was hyper-focused on wrapping your wing most effectively until he heard a sniffle.

“I'm sorry Nanami”

He continued wrapping your wing as he heard you silently cry, He could tell you were genuinely apologetic. Since the moment he met you, you have always done things with your whole heart. It was one of the things he admired about you.

“What you did was idiotic and dangerous,” He accidentally tightened the wrapping and you flinched. “You could have easily died”

Tying the knot to the bandage, he stepped back, and the dead body of the curse caught his eye.

Fixing his hair by sweeping it to the side, he examined where the head was cut off and also noted the missing pincer.

“But you did manage to kill it without my help”

A small smile appeared on your face as you wiped the tears away and slowly made your way to stand next to Nanami.

“Thanks, Nanami”

He only grunted as he stepped away to walk toward the exit.

“Just don’t do that again, That’s something only Gojo can do and get away with”

“He really is amazing isn’t he?”

Nanami only rolled his eyes.

Wincing from every step you take, you were about to finally exit the room but there was a noise ahead.

“Wait Nanami, stop”

“I heard it too”

He moved in front of you, taking his blunt sword back out.

You two waited with bated breath for something to happen.

The noise was different from the usual creaking sound from the building.

The sound became frequent as it seemed it was getting closer.

Stomping becoming more clear.

Until it stopped.

Your hands hovered over the kusarigama attached to your waist. Praying it was anything but a curse.

But you weren’t so lucky as another grade 3 curse lunged out from the darkness straight at you two.

Gripping your scythes, you were going to ask Nanami what to do but he’d already taken care of it.

The curse now lying in a perfect 7:3 ratio on the floor.

‘...what’

“Nanami”

He only looked as confused as you.

The mission report stated only one curse would be here. And the fact that two 3-grades had shown up definitely meant one of two things.

Number one- The scouts got it wrong and the second one was hiding

Or two- The mission report was wrong on purpose.

You’d hoped it was the former because just thinking of the latter made a shiver run up your spine.

“If there was another curse we didn’t know about, we need to leave. There could be more”

Before you could agree, two more curses came at you from the dark.

You were forced to put up a temporary shield to stop the one curse as Nanami quickly handled the other.

After those two were killed, they just kept coming. They were all either grade 3 or 4 so they were ok to deal with.

But the repeated ratio technique and the curses slamming into walls because of your shields- were causing the building to crumble and break faster than you realised.

The constant bombardment was causing you and Nanami to also move further away from each other.

“Nanami! What do we do?! It’s like they keep multiplying!”

“Keep using your shields, we’ll try and hold them off until we have a clear path through the exit!” Nanami yelled over the congealed screams of the curses.

You had no choice but to trust Nanami, he had been in more situations with curses than you, and even though you were starting to get light-headed for over-using your technique, you had faith that Nanami would get you both out of this.

After another minute of the curse stampede, Nanami finally saw an opening as the numbers started to dwindle.

“Y/n come on let’s go!”

He looked around to find and quickly grab you but he saw why the curse’s numbers were starting to slow down.

“NANAMI!!!!!!”

You were surrounded, about 20 to 30 different curses trying to get to you.

He could see you constantly using your shields to keep them back but that’s all you could do.

Seeing no other way, Nanami prepared to do one big slash. He was already feeling pretty tired from using his technique over and over again, but this was the best way to kill most of them and grab you simultaneously.

You could see black spots starting to cover your vision as your reaction time started to slow. The slashes now hitting your body every now and then as you fail to block every attack.

You saw an attack aim straight for your face that you were too slow to stop, so closing your eyes you braced for the pain until you got rained on by the black sludge.

Opening your eyes, you saw Nanami’s hand reach through the bodys now starting to fall to the ground and you didn't think twice about grabbing it

He dragged you through the carnage and continued to pull you towards the exit.

You let him navigate you as you were too tired and beaten to do it yourself.

Running through the hall, more curses appeared at the end of it. And with about 15 curses still behind you both, Nanami was forced to take a sharp right into a different hall.

In the open space, Nanami spotted an emergency exit sign pointing to the left.

“Hang on Y/n, We’re almost out”

Following the directions, Nanami ignored the terrifying sounds of the curses behind you two- any hesitation could mean death.

As you stumbled and tripped trying to keep up with Nanami you saw a blue flash cut quickly across the room.

Your heart jumped as your eyes widened at what it was.

At the school, one of the first things they teach you is how to identify the different grades of curses.

And what was standing there, watching you two, wasn’t a grade 3 or even a grade 2.

It was a grade 1.

Your voice got caught in your throat as it just watched you two try an escape.

Nanami was too focused on leaving to notice the extra presence. So you kept your eyes on it, waiting for it to move.

You were so close to the final hallway.

The wide smile mocked you as if it knew you both were going to die.

And as you watched it take one step, it was as if a newfound strength took over you.

You let go of Nanami’s hand and shoved him towards the exit, You’d need both of your hands if you wanted to create a shield large enough.

The grade 1 curse flashed in front of you so you activated your technique and slammed the curse into the wall opposite of you.

The effect was instant and the walls of the room started to fall.

You saw the grade 1 curse get crushed by the rubble and some of the other curses also suffer from the same fate.

But what you didn’t see was the two walls quickly crashing around you. They closed you off from Nanami and trapped you in a small space.

Gripping your hair you started to hyperventiliate.

‘Why is this happening??’

‘Is this my fault??’

It was pitch black now as you tried desperately to feel around for any gaps.

“NANAMI?!?!?!”

The sound and vibrations of the weak walls tumbling had gone quiet as you started wailing in anguish for any semblance of hope.

“NANAMI PLEASE!”

Your nails were starting to bleed from you trying to claw at the heavy stones around you. Moving around, you hoped a stone might’ve dislodged behind you but it was like the floor was suddenly heavy.

Moving your foot around to see what was wrong, you felt the familiar density of water.

Leaning down to touch it, you confirmed your suspicions and also noted the slowly raising level of the water.

“NANAMI THERE’S WATER!”

Outside of your concrete cage, Nanami was trying hopelessly to get to you but the stragglers from the large group of curses were slowly pushing him back into the hallway of the exit.

This situation just went from barely manageable to impossible and he knew there was only one way left to save you. Or rather there was only one person left that could save you.

Every second counted and Nanami wasted none as he quickly made a decision.

Turning on his heel, he ran out into the hallway where he saw the emergency exit door- Whipping out his phone at the same time.

‘We’ll save you’

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“Satoru, stop eating Nanami’s Mochi”

“Well maybe he shouldn’t leave them out in the open”

“They were in his part of the freezer and it was locked- it’s 11 pm anyway, why did you drag me down here”

Satoru closed the freezer door with a plate full of mochi of different flavors and made his way to where Suguru was sitting at the table.

“Couldn’t sleep”

Suguru watched as Satoru stuffed his face with the mochi. It’s not the first time he’s seen this exact scene but it is the first time he’s been quiet.

Granted, he is Satoru Gojo so he can never be fully silent but Suguru could easily see the change.

“You have something on your mind?”

Satoru stopped mid-chew to look up at Suguru over his sunglasses. (Suguru had to squint as Satoru’s eyes were so god-damn bright in the dark room) He swallowed what was in his mouth as he played with the half-eaten mochi.

“.....No, not really”

Suguru raised an eyebrow at his obvious lying.

“Your face doesn’t agree with what you just said”

Said teen had eyebrows so furrowed they were almost touching, and his eyes looked so dull with a far-away look.

Quickly trying to fix his expression, he gave Suguru a wide smile with his signature wink.

“I’m fine see!”

“Now you just look like a baboon sat on your face”

Satoru deflated as he didn’t feel like eating more mochi.

“You’re so mean Suguru” Satoru whined as he dramatically put his head in his hands.

“And you won’t tell me the truth”

Suguru had a feeling why Satoru was acting the way he was but he wanted to admit it himself.

Satoru gave him a sheepish look as his true feelings started to show. He could never hide from Suguru and he didn’t know why he bothered trying.

Satoru gave a soft sigh as he fixed his glasses back over his eyes.

“ 'm just confused I guess”

Suguru stayed quiet to let Satoru continue.

He brushed his hair back with his fingers as he desperately tried to find something to do with his hands.

“I know they’re both capable but this mission just feels off, right?”

Suguru opened his mouth to reply but Satoru beat him to it.

“I mean, they send two first years to take care of a grade 3! And with no extra help! That seems a bit suspicious right???”

“Satoru-”

“And (Y/n) barely knows how to throw a punch! And they say she’s ready for a full mission? Yeah-no”

Suguru just watches now and waits for Satoru to finish as he knows he won’t be able to stop him.

“And they make them do the mission at night! What’s up with that?”

Suguru almost falls asleep in his chair until Satoru stops talking and throws a mochi at his head.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Were you even listening to me???”

Suguru rubs his head where the mochi hit him as he gives Satoru a specific look.

“Not really- but! I can guess what you were trying to say”

Satoru chuckled sarcastically as he leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head.

“Ok wise guy, what was I saying?”

“You are worried about them, and you wish they told you to go too”

Satoru only blinked at Suguru’s guess and stared hard at his face.

“Specifically, you wanted to be with (Y/n)-”

“Now hang on a minute-”

They started to bicker back and forth, both teens fighting over the fact that Gojo may or may not have a crush.

“C’mon Satoru, even Haibara can see it!”

“That’s because he only ever sees rainbows and butterflies!”

“Just accept it-”

“I’m not accepting anything!”

Mochi was flying back and forth now as neither of them was willing to take it seriously.

“Ok- ok, Truce!” Suguru held up his hands but quickly ducked from a stray mochi. “I said truce!”

Satoru was glaring at Suguru, holding another mochi as if daring him to bring it up again.

Suguru’s arms sagged as he shook his head. He should’ve known Satoru was going to be stubborn about it, It’s just something he should handle himself in his own time.

Satoru’s own expression warped into one of guilt as he observed just how tired and frustrated Suguru was. He woke him up and dragged him to the communal kitchen just because he didn’t want to deal with his feelings by himself. He wanted a distraction and it just blew up in his face.

Honestly, these emotions were confusing to him. And scary but he was Satoru Gojo, he’s never scared of anything and refuses to believe he could be scared of his own feelings.

He’s only known you briefly, but whenever you’re around he knows he feels something. But that was just it, and that something could easily be nothing. He guesses he wanted Suguru to help him figure it out as he was begrudgingly more emotionally mature than he was (But not by much). However, his pride was still stopping him from confessing anything.

Getting irritated at his own arrogance, he wonders if this was karma from not taking literally anything else in his life seriously.

He felt the mochi in his hand pop and stared shocked since he didn’t even know he was gripping the frozen treat that tightly. The sticky, gooey substance had exploded all over his hand and some got on his expensive sleeping shirt.

“I guess I deserved this huh?” Satoru sighs.

Suguru notes how disheveled his best friend looks and decides to throw him a bone.

“C’mon idiot, I just got the new Zelda game on my Wii” Suguru stands and notices Satoru’s eyes light up at the prospect of gaming.

He quickly strides to the sink to wash the mochi off his hand.

“How do you have it already? It only came out the other day” He didn’t really care how Suguru got it, he was just excited to play it.

Before Suguru could say how, both Yaga Sensei and Shoko came rushing into the room with unfamiliar frantic faces.

Both boys felt the air shift and put all of their attention on the two people who looked like a pair of deer in headlights.

“You fucking idiot!” Shoko was the first to speak up as she menacingly stalked to where Satoru was at the sink.

His confusion only grew as she struck him across the face- too befuddled to activate infinity to stop her.

“What the hell was that for???”

“Too full of yourself to check your phone?? Why weren’t you picking up??” Shoko looked positively livid.

Shoving his hand into his pocket where his phone was, he grabbed it and gave Shoko an incredulous look.

“What do you mean? I haven’t been getting any calls-”

Turning on his phone, his breath hitched as he saw all of the notifications of Nanami trying to call him.

Over fifteen times he failed to pick up, exactly 9 minutes since the first phone call.

In the past 4 minutes, he’s had text notifications, but there were still around twenty of them.

He quickly skimmed through all of them and two phrases absolutely terrified him.

‘(Y/n) trapped’

And.

‘Grade one’

Suguru grits his teeth as he can only imagine what’s happening by how Satoru’s face contorts.

“What’s going on?” Suguru stares at Yaga, expecting answers.

Yaga's face hardens as he gives a curt answer.

“(Y/n) and Nanami encountered a grade one,” His eyes found Satoru’s wide ones until they disappeared in a blink- probably gone to change into his uniform quickly.

“And (Y/n) is trapped inside with it”

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

Warping to the site of the mission, Satoru let go of Suguru and Shoko as he used his six eyes to quickly locate Nanami.

Which wasn’t too hard because of the absurd amount of curses all grouped up in one spot near the left side of the Aquarium.

“What the hell…” Suguru stared at the hoard like it was an illusion.

“We don’t have time to figure this out- Let’s just go. Shoko stay here on standby” Satoru made his way quickly to the ring of curses and started exorcising them one by one.

Suguru frowned at Satoru’s recklessness but readied the dark portals of his technique anyway.

“He’s being an idiot but I can’t blame him, The injuries Nanami described sound almost fatal. We'll bring (Y/n) back as fast as we can and then you can do your thing.” Suguru follows quickly behind Satoru with his curses.

Shoko rubbed her forehead as she felt a headache coming on. She didn’t know if it was from staying up later than usual, the situation, or the combination of both. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the closest sign to try and settle her irritation.

It was far too early to lose a student- scrap that, they should never even have to worry about losing a student. But the world of jujutsu was cruel and these things were to be expected.

Shoko lets the smoke puff out of her nose as she fiddles with the cigarette.

‘I hate this’

Satoru and Suguru made quick work of the grade three’s and four’s, it was almost as easy as blinking.

As the last curse flopped onto the ground in a heap of pitch-black goop, They were able to have a good look at Nanami’s condition.

He had minor injuries which was a relief but he looked ready to collapse from the excessive use of his technique. He swayed on his feet and drenched in sweat.

Panting hard he let himself get caught by Satoru and Suguru as his legs refused to work. The muscles in his hands and arms started twitching as a burning sensation was beginning to develop.

‘How bothersome’

He was just about ready to have a nap.

“Are you okay?”

“Where is she?”

Suguru gave Satoru a look as if saying ‘Calm down’.

They brought Nanami’s arms around their shoulders and began pulling him to where Shoko was.

“It’s her energy” Nanami coughed out.

“What do you mean?” Satoru hasn’t stopped peering at him since he first saw him and Nanami actually felt some sort of fear.

Although he didn’t appreciate Satoru’s pushiness, he could understand where it was coming from.

“Her energy has been drawing the curses here. I– cough – I don’t know how but it’s my best guess” Nanami slumps more between the other two boys as they easily drag his body weight.

Suguru gapes at Satoru over Nanami’s head and they share a worried look.

“We need to get her out now” Suguru spoke.

“Cough- Just leave me here,” Nanami gasped out. “The building could fall at any time”

Both boys stopped moving as they looked at Nanami’s slouched form. He managed to lift his head enough to look Satoru in the eyes—fierce brown ones managing to outmatch the usual profound blue ones.

“Save her”

Satoru let out a shaky breath and gave Nanami a firm nod.

They let Nanami down carefully against a low wall and sprinted through the front entrance of the building.

Nanami kept his eyes on the pair until he couldn’t, he let the fatigue take over and shut his eyelids. For the first time that night, he felt like he could finally relax.

Keeping their feet light, they followed your trail of energy residue- slashing any curse that was in the way.

The desperation is now fully evident as they both kept quiet the whole way to where they could feel your energy strongest.

Suguru observed the already exorcised corpses through the hallways of the building and tried his best to avoid them. The same couldn't be said for Satoru as he could not care less about the mess it was making on his pants.

Hearing loud bashing coming from the next room, They charged through the small entrance.

They noticed the piles of rubble taking up over half of the room and it made it difficult to move around. Straight ahead, they could see a blue figure scratching and pounding at a rock structure.

“There’s the grade one-”

“I’ll handle this” Satoru interrupted Suguru and started to charge a lapse blue.

Suguru saw what Satoru was about to do and quickly slapped his hands down.

“Are you stupid? Do that and the ceiling will crush us”

“What else am I supposed to do?!”

“Nothing!”

Satoru looked at Suguru as if he had stabbed him in the back.

“What?”

Suguru rubbed the back of his neck, he was done with Satoru’s actions in rushing head-first and now was not the time for him to be ignorant.

“If you use any of your techniques in this room, we’ll die. You can’t control the amount of damage you cause and it’ll only lower our chances of getting (Y/n) and ourselves out of here”

Satoru was ready to retort but Suguru cut him off like Satoru did all night.

“I’ll exorcise this curse and then we will get her out of that rubble,” Suguru was not budging on this as he strode in front of Satoru. “All you need to do is grab her and warp us out, okay?”

Satoru couldn’t believe a word he was hearing.

Well, he could but he was too stubborn to think that was the right thing to do.

“You can’t be serious-”

“Satoru”

He shut his mouth at that.

Suguru only eyed him, challenging him to say one more thing.

And Satoru wanted to fight him on this so bad . Whenever he’s been tested before, he fights with everything in his body- he is the honored one.

So he couldn’t help it when he matched Suguru’s stare, but quickly grit his teeth and shoved past Suguru towards the Grade one. Ultimately deciding that getting you out was more important in that moment.

“Whatever, just be quick” Satoru spat.

Suguru’s surprise only lasted a few seconds before he activated his technique.

“About time you listen to me”

Satoru said nothing as he kept striding forward to where you were- Suguru making light work of the Grade one and only taking about 30 seconds more than what it would take the strongest.

Satoru stepped up to the huge cement block, avoiding the large pieces of wall and the flying body of the curse.

Splash

Confused, he looks down and notices the ripples expanding from around his shoe.

He picks up his foot and moves it from the puddle- seeing the water gradually spreading.

They were in an aquarium so seeing it wasn’t surprising, however, looking more closely he could see this water was isolated.

He took off his sunglasses and placed them on his head and that’s when he saw it.

The many cracks in the cement were slowly trickling water.

Cracks at his eye level that were trickling water.

Meaning there was water inside.

Meaning you were trapped with rising water.

Meaning time was running out faster.

Satoru grits his teeth. “Shit”

Suguru ran up to Satoru as he tried to dig out some of the smaller rocks that he hoped wouldn’t make everything tumble.

Suguru put one of his hands on his shoulder and tried to yank him back. “Satoru, stop”

Satoru only shrugged him off as he started to play a very dangerous game of Jenga.

“She’s drowning!”

Satoru started to get frantic as Suguru finally noticed the surrounding water.

He tried to quickly think of a solution but his thoughts were interrupted by Satoru banging his fists onto the concrete.

“Shit, shit, SHIT!” It was times like these when he wished he was stronger.

“Satoru I might have a curse that could help us, just give me a second”

Suguru closed his eyes as he concentrated and tried to remember if he had eaten any curse that would be helpful.

Satoru kept his eyes wide open as he leaned his forehead against the concrete, focusing his six eyes on your energy and looking out for any changes.

Every other second it would flicker and his heart would skip at the same time.

When it started flickering rapidly, his heart rate spiked.

“Suguru!”

Suguru sighed through his nose as he looked at Satoru.

“I have one, But, There’s a fifty-fifty chance this concrete wall will collapse,” He pointed to a specific wall that was keeping you trapped and trailed his finger along to where the wall met the ceiling. “And if this wall falls, so does everything else”

“So do it, I’ll just do what you told me,” Satoru stepped back from the concrete wall and met Suguru’s worried eyes with his determined ones.”I’ll grab her and get us the fuck out of here”

Suguru gave him a nod and opened a black portal.

A twin-headed eel curse slithered out of it and swam through the air, toward one of the larger cracks in the wall.

Both of them watched as it squeezed into it and disappeared.

It was quiet as the two were left in suspense, eyeing the crack the eel went in.

Satoru’s fingers twitched as he was ready to launch himself in an instant.

The crack suddenly started to move up and went all the way to the ceiling.

Then the whole structure started to form multiple cracks until it looked like just a bunch of small stones stacked on top of each other unsecurely.

The water pressure inside was greater than the force of the wall and it exploded.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion as Satoru moved as fast as light when he caught a glimpse of your wings.

Though the water and rubble were blasting him and threatening to get in his eyes, he wished he’d practiced his infinity more.

But none of that mattered as he gripped Suguru’s collar and reached for you as the ceiling fell.

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

You felt the soft sheets underneath your hands before any of your other senses fired up. But immediately after, you felt the tightness of your lungs and the stiffness of your limbs.

Trying to sit up, you struggled and gave up when your arms grew too painful.

Looking around the room, you could tell you were back in the school infirmary as you would visit Shoko here whenever she had training.

Hearing the beeping of your heart rate monitor you weakly turned your head to the left and spotted a mop of white hair on the couch across from you.

Your eyelids were still droopy from the drugs in your system and you hissed through your teeth when you shifted a bit too much.

‘What happened to me?’

Watching Satoru’s calm face as his chest raised up and down rhythmically while he slept was making you feel tired again.

Your eyes were starting to flutter closed when it all rushed back to you.

You lurched forward and fell back from your lack of strength when a sharp pain ran right through your left wing and your lungs felt like they were surrounded by molten lava.

Your throat felt like it was closing tight so you couldn’t even scream for help.

Images of the curse you killed were running wild in your brain as well as the first-grade curse that appeared. The fear returned as you felt the start of the first few tears start to roll down your face silently.

And oh god the water.

You’d never had a fear of the ocean or any type of fear to do with water.

But the foreboding of watching the water rise without being able to do anything about it just felt like waiting for your death to happen.

You’d never felt so petrified of something that has always been so docile to you.

Feeling like you were still there, you tried hard to flail your arms and escape.

Satoru stirred at the noise being made in the room. This is one of the latest nights he’s stayed up in a while and he could already feel the headache from waking up too soon.

He turned around to try to fall back asleep when he remembered where he was.

Snapping his head quickly to where you were on your bed, he saw that your rapid heart monitor was what woke him up.

But seeing the state you were in snapped him out of his surprise.

You were trying to get off the bed and rip the nasal cannula off.

He scrambled off of the couch clumsily and reached your bed in no time.

Grabbing your arm and your waist, he tried to gently place you back to where you were but you kept squirming away from him.

“Princess” he spoke to you firmly, hoping his voice was going to ground you.

You didn’t seem to calm down at all so Satoru had to think on his feet to try and help you.

So he threw his glasses off of his face and placed both of his hands on your shoulders- having you face him.

“(Y/n),” Being this close to you he could see the tear tracks and the the fresh ones constantly falling down your face. He could tell you were having trouble breathing and he didn’t know if that was from the damage from the water or the panic.

“Look at me”

Trembles racked through your body as you looked into his familiar enchanting eyes.

“It’s ok…You’re ok”

Satoru kept saying short comforting things and eventually your heart rate slowed down and you stopped struggling, being able to finally breathe.

Once he saw you were stable, he let out a sigh of relief and let go of you- grabbing a chair and pushing it up close to you.

You were quiet and Satoru could tell you were processing everything that happened. So he also kept his mouth shut and waited for you to say something first- if you wanted to say something.

“Why are you here?”

He was not expecting that to be the first thing you say.

He crosses his legs and arms and avoids eye contact.

“We’ve been taking turns watching over you, Shoko said the damage to your body was critical so someone had to be here when you woke up” Even though it was only a half-truth, lying to you didn’t feel right. He was never a good liar anyway- his body language screamed ‘Phony’.

The truth was- the moment he gave you to Shoko when he saved you was a moment he never wanted to see again.

Your unconscious body with lacerations everywhere felt like he was living a nightmare- the sight making him puke the mochis he had eaten less than 20 minutes ago.

He could only stare as Shoko worked to get out all the water filling your lungs. And when she said they needed to get you back to the school to restart your heart, he swore he almost passed out.

So he stayed on the couch and gawked as Shoko tried her best to heal you with what she already knew.

It was messy and took a while but her skill with reversed curse technique stabilized you efficiently.

He made sure to ask her for future lessons on it as soon as she finished.

“I was so scared,” You fiddled with your oxygen tube as you eyed the ceiling. “I wanted to be strong”

“You don’t need to be strong”

“But if I could be, then I could help you for once”

Satoru sat speechless, he didn’t know how to reply to that.

You carefully rolled onto your side to relieve the pressure on your wings and to see Satoru more easily. “Since I’ve come to this school all I've done is try and catch up to everyone. And I knew it couldn’t be helped so I never wanted to complain about it but…after last night I’m not sure I'll ever be able to catch up”

You took a deep breath as your lungs were still feeling really sore and talking was not helping but you had to get this off of your chest.

“After we spoke at the vending machine that day, I believed I could get as strong as you, and the mission was my one shot to prove to myself that I could do it”

Satoru kept that same indifferent look so you took that as a sign to continue.

“But you had to come and save me because I was too weak-”

“Actually we had to come and save you because you were too strong”

It was your turn to be speechless as Satoru shifted.

“We came to two conclusions about what had happened” He brushed his fingers through his hair and started tapping his one foot.

“Either, Your energy is so strong it was basically a beacon for all curses within a 5-mile radius or,” He clenched his fists and grit his teeth. “It was an assassination attempt”

Your breath hitched and you coughed, The information taking you by surprise.

“But why would anyone want to kill me?!?!”

“The higher-ups. They control what missions go to which sorcerers. The missions are brought to them by scouts who go all over the country looking for high curse activity”

He swings an arm behind the chair and tails his eyes over each of your mostly healed injuries. “Simply put- you’re different. And different means a threat to the higher-ups. They don’t understand you and so throwing you into a mission with a grade one curse, another student in the same year as you, and far enough away from the school to not easily get there and back was the quickest option”

He made sure you understood him so he summarised.

“They were scared because they didn’t know how strong you were so killing you was faster than figuring out you- or it could still be that and the energy thing together”

You took a minute to let it sink in, comprehending the situation. Coming to this school, you are expected to be in dangerous settings. But expecting it and living it are two very different things.

“Gojo, will it always be like this?”

“That depends, do you want to leave?”

“Leave?”

Satoru made a bold move and reached across to hold your hand. “The jujutsu world does not let you be happy, If you want I could help you leave. I’ll give you money, find an apartment, and sort out the higher ups- You almost died and I-” Satoru stopped before saying too much.

“But if I leave then I’ll be alone. I think I’d rather fight for my life every day to be with you guys than sit alone in an apartment waiting for someone to pick me up off my feet”

You brushed your fingers over Satoru's knuckles. Too focused tracing over the scars to see how red his face had become.

“We need strong sorcerers right?”

Satoru felt your grip on his hand tighten and met your eyes.

You felt your eyes flutter as the sleepiness was starting to come back.

You gave Satoru a small smile. “I’m gonna train every day so I can be as strong as you, Gojo”

He watched as you got comfortable to go back to sleep, the happiness on your face genuine.

“Call me Satoru- for saving your life and all” He couldn’t believe how brave he was being, giving himself a mental pat on the back.

You giggled. “Hmm, I think I prefer ‘Toru”

The smile didn’t leave your face as you drifted off to sleep, Still holding Satoru’s hand.

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

Bonus-

“I’m gonna snap your knees Yuji!!! Get back here!” Nobara chased Yuji in the shallow water of the beach.

Yuji ducked as Nobara started shooting him with her massive water gun that Satoru bought.

“Get away from me you psycho!-GAH” Yuji was shot right in the nose. “Megumi help me!”

Megumi didn’t bat an eye, already annoyed that he was dragged away from his book.

“Leave me out of it” He threw the volleyball back at Satoru.

Yuji ducked behind His freakishly tall sensei, hoping he was enough to shield him from his crazy friend.

“Sensei you have to save me!” Yuji peeked around him to gauge where Nobara was.

Satoru only laughed and ruffled his hair. “Why don’t you go hide by (Y/n)?”

He pointed to where you were on the private beach, much further away from where they were. Sitting on the sand under an umbrella and playing your son.

Yuji had to squint to see what you were doing.

“Why is she so far away”

Satoru laughed again but it was more curt this time.

“You ever tried drying wings with a 7-meter wingspan?”

“That makes sense” Too distracted from the situation he didn’t see Nobara sneaking up on him, rapid firing on his face.

“You villain!” he sputtered and tried running away.

But Nobara accidentally aimed a little too much to the left and hit Megumi.

They both stayed still, waiting to see what Megumi would do.

And as soon as they saw the demon dogs appear they ran away screaming.

Satoru only chuckled at their antics and warped to where you were.

He plopped down next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you both watched your son play with his tiny sand molds.

“You ok princess?”

You had a cheeky smile on your face as you picked up your son and held him in your arms.

“I’m good ‘Toru”

You leaned up to kiss Satoru and he bent down to meet you halfway.

But before your lips could touch, you shoved him away and ran with your son towards the students.

He could hear your laughter and your son's giggles as you got further away. But his own determined smile grew as he decided he’d play your game.

He never thought this would be achievable when he was a teenager, and he had to thank you for making the impossible- possible.

#gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #dad gojo #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #megumi fushiguro #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #yuji itadori #nobara kugisaki

63 notes · View notes

howtofightwrite · 1 year

Note

Just a casual question: What lightsaber style do you prefer out of one-handed, two-handed, double-bladed or dual wielding?

We’ll leave out the Lightsaber Forms from the EU, because they are inconsistently defined between sources.

No, no, no. You ask me what my favorite lightsaber is, you get the answer whether you want it or not. The answer may surprise you. It’s (probably) considered the second dumbest lightsaber weapon ever invented in the extended universe with the exception of the lightsaber nunchaku.

Are you ready? Do you have your guesses?

The Lightwhip.

The chosen weapon of Dark Ladies of the Sith and the Nightsisters of Dathomir back when the Sisters weren’t all dark side practitioners and rode rancors.

(This is my favorite. For reference, Starke’s favorite is single blade Form IV: Ataru. He’s boring.)

Now, I agree with the general fandom that the lightwhip is a dumb, impractical weapon that’s more likely to dismember its wielder than it is their opponent. Only someone with a high level of skill, prescience, and telekinesis could make effective use of a lightwhip’s dismemberment murder frenzy without killing themselves. Fortunately, that’s exactly the base level of skills most Force sensitives possess. Probably most important, the lightwhip is the exact sort of dumb we see with real weapons in the real world. This includes the more wild examples like the urumi, the chain whip, and the three-section staff. And, it should be said, I have watched living black belts concuss themselves with the three-section staff while trying to figure out how to use it. All for the Rule of Cool. So, while I accept its impracticality, I refuse the argument that the lightwhip being any more unrealistic in use or invention than the rest of the lightsaber weapon family. Does it have a high skill floor? Absolutely. Is it a safe weapon compared to the rest of its very dangerous family? Absolutely not. Would a student potentially dismember or murder themselves learning to use it? Yes, and that’s why it’s fun. (I’ll add a small caveat that the average student could also dismember themselves with a normal lightsaber, so this isn’t just a danger posed by the lightwhip.)

The lightwhip is a weapon of the Dark Side. Its battle style would be (and should be) wild, chaotic, and nigh uncontrollable. There’s no way to use it safely and it belongs in the hands of a wielder who is straight up thrilled to cut down both their allies and enemies in equal measure. This is the weapon of a murderous lunatic in black leather, and gets even more wild when it switches to a Cat o’ Nine to bring on nine weaving laser tendrils instead of just one. The lightwhip is the sexy Catwoman reference that transcends its genre when we really start to think about how intimidating it’d be to see that thing on the battlefield in the hands of a novice and, especially, an expert.

The standard use for a whip in the real world is as a support tool for your primary weapon, such as a rapier. The whip doesn’t do much damage on its own, leaving only small, painful cuts and lacerations so it transitions into a means of harassment. The advantage of the whip is that it attacks at odd, circular angles which are difficult (if not impossible) to block and will curve into a strike around the opposing weapon. The rippling movement makes it difficult to see and even more difficult to predict. If kept in constant motion, this difficulty triples because the disparate movements blend together.

Now, take this setup and add the lightshow. Instead of a weapon that does light lacerations, we have a weapon that deals massive burns if it doesn’t straight up dismember. It will cut through everything and everyone. Conventional fighting styles fall apart against it. More importantly, because it is a burning plasma ribbon, it doesn’t need to follow the standard rules of physics. The lightwhip is beautiful in its raw, chaotic brutality, it’s high risk, high reward nature, and I love the way it hard counters the standard philosophy of lightsaber combat with a literal curveball. Any opponent who faces it is forced into new, creative approaches for their very survival.

Lastly, I love what the lightwhip says about its wielder as an expression of their vicious, ferocious, highly aggressive personality. This weapon requires commitment and dedication. It’s absolutely fair to say the person who wields a lightwhip has a fanatical, if not suicidal, bent. After all, they’d willingly risk death to master it. They love destruction. They don’t care about outside consequences or property destruction. They go it alone.

I’ll admit the lightwhip’s true potential is too violent for most of Star Wars and, like most Star Wars weapons, it very much lives on the Rule of Cool. One of the sadder aspects with the lightwhip is that, while I love the weapon and its potential, any discussion of it gets mired in sexism. Every appearance of the lightwhip comes with the sexy NSFW Dark Side Dominatrix bent and leads to the lightwhip not being given the consideration it’s potential deserves.

My favorite saber is Darth Maul’s saber staff from The Phantom Menace, because versatility allows for use of both one and two. My favorite lightsaber form (which should now surprise no one) is Form VII: Vaapad.

All that said, I do enjoy a good Dark Side Dominatrix as much as I enjoy a moody and hooded Dark Side Goth. And I genuinely love dumb and, seemingly, impractical weapons when the reward justifies their risk. If there’s a general writing advice takeaway here, always consider the practicality of an impractical but cool weapon, address i’s rewards as well as its risks, and pair it with a suitable personality. The lightwhip is not a weapon that belongs in the hands of a Jedi or, really, any individual who possesses any degree of restraint. It’s for a character who merrily expresses raw, raging power at every opportunity and willing to risk destroying themselves along with everyone else for victory.

There’s a weird angle with the Star Wars EU where they tried to establish the lightwhip as weaker than the lightsaber (*cough* woman’s weapon *cough*) with less cutting power even when it doesn’t use a physical cord, which makes absolutely no sense. The lightsaber is the more versatile weapon, while the lightwhip is more specialized and circumstantial. Which fits with the patterns of real world weapons technology.

This a long circle round to saying that the weapons we choose for our characters act as personality tells. Which is why it’s important to give a lot of thought and consideration to any weapon’s historic use and purpose before attaching it. Weapons communicate more than we might expect, both via their situational viability and associated cultural myths. It’s important to choose whether you’ll address this, especially if you’re not planning to intentionally communicate that message or make those personality traits part of the character’s identity. Weapons are tools and, like with all tools, different tools attract different personalities. In fiction, we the authors often decide this from an external perspective. Once a choice has been made, always give yourself a chance to think about it from a character’s internal perspective. Why did Character X choose this weapon? Why do they want to use it? What does this weapon do for them that another weapon doesn’t? Or, what makes that other weapon less attractive?

You might find yourself with an answer or story beat you hadn’t previously considered.

Food for thought.

-Michi

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#star wars #lightsabers #michi answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #how to fight write

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denial-permanente · 3 months

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i’m a college student really interested in chastity but unlike most people here it seems. i’m single. this is kind of a 2 part question should i get into chastity single. and 2 if im looking for a keyholder and my goodness i am do you have any ideas of the best way to go about that while not forcing my kink on any unsuspecting vanilla friends?

🔏I moderate a few Reddit groups, and I am surprised at the number of young guys who are into being locked. Unfortunately, most of them do not have a keyholder, and come up with all sorts of impractical ways to approach this. Personally, I do not understand the mindset. To me, being locked would end up being boring (if not pointless). I like to know that @mrs--edge has the control over me; that's what makes it exciting.

That said, it's really harmless to try it out. For like, $30 or less you can get an inexpensive cage on Ebay or Amazon or someplace and start experimenting.

The keyholder aspect is something else. If you spend any time on Tumblr, you'll run across any number of women (or accounts that present as women) who will be happy to hold your key for a price. I have no idea what a fair price would be, but there's nothing stopping you from interviewing a dozen or two. There are also Reddit groups for Keyholders where you might find someone.

Personally, I think that it's a mistake to ask one's friends, unless you already have a very kink-aware friend group in which you already discuss such things.

Good luck out there.

#chastity question

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thetfchangingroom · 11 months

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You always wanted to be a bodybuilder, and to be a great bodybuilder, you need a great personal trainer.

But you didn’t want any old trainer. You wanted someone you could aspire to be, someone you looked forward to seeing at the gym each day, towering over you as you worked out.

Enter Joshua, with his XXL tank tops and shorts so short they may as well be underwear. The guy is so big he has to walk sideways out of the bathroom. He drives a pickup cus it’s the only car he can fit in. He practically lives at the gym.

He’s perfect, you thought.

But Joshua’s training methods are… unconventional. In your first session, he asked a lot of personal questions: where you worked, where you lived, etc. You didn’t think much of it at first, but then the bodybuilder snapped his fingers and suddenly you were staring at yourself from across the table.

See, Joshua prefers a more “hands on” approach with his clients, and with the ability to swap bodies with the snap of his fingers, that means getting in your body and doing all the work himself.

As for you? You get to experience life as a bodybuilder first hand, and see if it’s the right life for you.

For the next three months, you’ll lug around all 290 pounds of Joshua. You’ll endure 6 meals a day to satisfy his impossible mass, ogled gazes from every onlooker you pass, and a constant cool breeze on your perpetually exposed skin.

Yeah, those gym clothes are about the only thing that fits good ol’ Joshua. No wonder he spends all his time at the gym. I suspect you’ll spend the rest of your time naked—either sleeping or standing at the mirror, flexing and posing and massaging those titanic muscles.

Not the life you expected? Life never is. Most of Joshua’s clients quit after the first few months. The ones that don’t end up exactly like him: impractically big and impossibly vain.

On the bright side, having Joshua’s body also means having his cock to play with when you get bored. It’s hard to tell under the tank, but he’s 12-inches full mast, and uncut so the head is super sensitive. All his clients say that was the best part.

Happy training! 💪

Click the link and follow my Instagram for more short transformation captions!

#tf #male transformation #transformation #body sawp #male body swap #instagram #bodybuilder tf #bodybuilder

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whatitsdecending · 1 year

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Chokehold: Pt. II

Vessel x Reader x Noah Sebastian

Finding yourself in a strange predicament between two men who had once shared your body at the same time. One with a tight grip on your heart and the other you just can’t seem to let go of.

A/N: thank you for the love on the first part! I decided to continue this an actual fic, rather than it just being a one shot. I will put this out here now:

I do not know anything about Vessel than what everyone else knows, all of this is fictional and made up by me.

Word Count: 4.4k

Content warning: none, fluff for this part and some cutesy moments

—————————

Two months had gone by and it was now November. You were in the lull between tours, the time where you get to sit at home and get extremely bored. You loved being on tour since you did something every single day, even on the off days.

This time around though wasn’t all that boring. That time three months ago where Noah had introduced you to Vessel was really sticking around. Vessel had given you his number, asking you to call him whenever you could. And you did. You never missed the chance to do so, calling him the next day early in the afternoon once the buses had arrived at the next place Bad Omens was performing. It only rang three times before he answered, the croak of his voice being used after he’d been asleep peaked your interest.

From that day on, you two either texted all day until you were able to schedule a time to call. The schedule you were on compared to his was a little difficult to find time where the both of you could sit down and chat.

Getting off tour made that so much easier for you. He’d call you up almost everyday around 2pm your time, even if he was in the UK he didn’t care how late it was for him in comparison. Every call you will talk until he falls asleep, which usually ends up being around 7pm for you. You’d hear the soft snores coming from his end of the line, signaling to you he was asleep.

“Goodnight Ves, sweet dreams.” You always say before hanging up. A small smile remained on your face as you began your nightly routine, something which you’ve caught yourself doing every time.

For hours you’d talk about anything and everything, it felt much different than the long talks you and Noah would have. Usually those talks with him would end in a hookup, but nothing else. You knew what you and Noah did was just casual, no strings attached. But sometimes you wished he’d just sit and listen to you talk for hours on end, let you rant about the crew who are pissing you off on that day or about the book you’d just finished reading.

But Vessel does. And you know he’s listening to you because he’ll ask you a follow up question on something you mentioned minutes ago. You longed to be able to see him again, to have these conversations over dinner instead of the phone. Whatever piece of him he left in you on that day remained and wouldn’t allow you to let go of the idea of him.

Which is why when your phone began to ring promptly at 2pm, your heart swelled at least twice its size. You hit the green answer button on the screen, then hit the speaker button.

“Hello darling.” His voice echoed into the room from the speakers.

“Hi Ves, how are things?” You asked, turning your focus on the pile of dirty laundry in your basket.

“Oh you know, same old same old. It’s getting quite boring doing the same thing everyday.” He sighs. “I wish I could just bounce around on stage right now and kiss my bandmates.” The laugh that erupted from you was loud and hearty, earning a chuckle from Vessel. “Maybe even kissing you.”

“Oh well now you’re just out of your mind.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s impractical right now, the idea of you kissing me.” He was silent for a moment, clearly thinking of what to say.

“I don’t think so. It could certainly happen sooner than you’d think.” Now you stood in silence wondering exactly what he meant by that. A notification popped up on your phone, a text from him. You clicked it and gasped at what it was: a plane ticket to London.

“Ves.. what is this?” The shock ran through your body to the point your hands began to shake.

“I did some research and realized there’s a good amount of time between when I go back on tour and Bad Omens does. I bought you a plane ticket to come and stay with me for a while before then.” There was a tone of hope in his voice, you could tell he really wanted you to be there with him. “Y/N I really do miss you, even if we’d only seen each other once in person. Talking to you everyday has only exaggerated that feeling.”

You didn’t know what to say. Well, actually more like you didn’t know how to express what you wanted to say. Your thoughts ran millions of miles per second through your mind. What exactly did he want if you went? Would it just be absentminded fucking like you already did with Noah? Or would it be something more? Soaking up each other’s presence, completing activities the other picks out for fun. Would it actually feel like something was there rather than nothing at all?

“Yes.” After all the thought you’d put into a reply, a simple yes is all that could come up with.

“Yes?”

“Yes Ves. I would love to spend time with you before going on tour again. I think we both really need it.” There it is, slowly coming out of you the more the conversation moves along.

“I’m glad you’re on board. That makes my life a little easier now.” You could tell he was smiling on the other side, just from the cheekiness of his response. “Also I apologize for the late notice, you should probably get packing now and find your passport.” You quickly found the plane ticket again and realized the departure was for tomorrow.

“Oh you dick!” You exclaimed, running over to the closet that stored your two suitcases. Vessel laughed over the phone at the sound of your struggle, clearly enjoying the stress he just put you in.

“I’ll hang up so you can get to packing. Just make sure you text me when the plane is about to take off and I’ll figure out the best time to get you. I’ll see you tomorrow darling.” With that he hung up. You stared at the two empty suitcases in front of you, the bigger one that you only brought along for a tour. You decided it’d be smart to just pack it like you were leaving for tour, then the other one being everything else you wanted to bring.

At the point in which one suitcase was completely full, you had a moment of realization: why the hell did you just agree to go across the sea to a country you’re still very unfamiliar with, and stay with a man whom you’ve talked with on the phone way more than in person. Plus, the time you spoke in person was so minimal because he fucked your brains out.

It certainly was not your brain making the decisions today.

As you sat here staring at the suitcase, it truly put so much in perspective for you. Vessel clearly meant something more to you than you’d thought. He’s had enough of an impact on you in these past two months than anyone you’ve ever met. The universe really works in strange ways and you wonder if Noah’s little fantasy was actually just some sort of strange fate for you.

Or you were going crazy.

—————————

You stood in line at TSA in the airport, watching each person take their personal items and put them into the buckets. It was painful how long you’d been in line and each new person that goes through the process makes you wish it was you. Traveling wasn’t exactly your most favorite thing in the world, but with your job you had to do it, so at this point you just grew numb to the entire experience.

After another fifteen minutes you were finally making your way to the gate. You had enough time to get there so you didn’t rush, but the anticipation of knowing you’re one step closer to seeing Vessel made your legs move in a hurry. The gate already had a lot of people waiting, seeming like it’d be a full flight. How lovely, you thought, I see babies.

Like every flight you’ve ever been on, the boarding process was always the worst. You’d wish you could shove past everyone taking their sweet time putting their carry ons in the bins and just get to your seat, but you decided being kind and helping a few people out would make the experience more pleasant.

As you watched out your window seat while the plane taxied on the runway, you reached for your phone to shoot a text to Vessel:

Hey, the plane is about to take off. See you soon xo:)

You switched your phone into airplane mode as the plane began to shoot down the runway. The friendly feeling of your stomach dropping when the plane lifted into the air put a smile on your face. You were really doing this, some people would run away from an opportunity like this but you decided you had to run right to it with open arms. The flight might be a long one, but in the end, it’ll be worth every second.

—————————

“The time is currently 8:43 pm GMT, the temperature outside is 46° Fahrenheit. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to London.” The pilot said on the overhead speakers when the plane landed, a sigh of relief leaving your body. Landing was always the rough part for you, you’ve seen too many documentaries.

Your phone came buzzing back to life the moment you turned airplane mode off, texts from multiple people popped up and lots of work emails flooding your notifications. You glanced at some of the messages, mostly just your parents asking if you’d landed yet and sending you cute messages. Vessel had sent you a heart in reply to what you sent him before take off, which you immediately sent him a text letting him know you landed.

Then the name you hadn’t seen in a while was there… Noah had tried calling you but resorted to sending texts.

N: Hey, you okay? I’m being sent straight to voicemail each time I call you.

N: Y/N you’ve got me a little worried, you good?

N: If I did something please let me know I don’t mean to seem like an asshole.

You sighed at the messages. Out of all days, he decides to talk to you today. The one time you weren’t going to be able to use your phone for a long time and were actually happy about it. You quickly shot him a text back just as the plane was being parked at the gate.

YOU: Hey I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I was DND for a while and needed some time away from my phone.

N: Shit dude you gave me a heart attack, everything good?

YOU: Yeah! I needed one of those technology detoxes today, you know?

N: I understand that completely. Whenever you get the chance will you give me a call? I miss talking to you.

YOU: Of course, but I gotta get back to my detox. Call you later xo

You stuffed your phone into your pocket deciding to ignore the rest of whatever he wanted to say. Your mind focused on what you were here for, getting to Vessel as quickly as you could. You became extremely grateful the people in this airport knew how to walk fast and weren’t stuck behind any slowpokes. The impatience you had was becoming worse the closer you got to the baggage claim, you think if these people were moving slow you’d mow them down like a damn eighteen-wheeler.

The escalators that lead down to the baggage claim came into view and as you stepped onto one of the steps, you searched the room below to see if you could spot Vessel. About midway down, you noticed him standing further back in all black, he held a small sign that said your name on it and a bouquet of flowers. The smallest gesture he could’ve ever made yet it made your heart flip-flop.

Your feet made contact with the ground and you were running to him. He opened his arms wide for you, letting you leap up and hug him tightly. The familiar warmth and his scent that you’d picked up on that day two months ago was still there, putting a wide smile on your face.

“These are for you.” He put the bouquet in your hand after you’d placed yourself back onto the ground. He had a shyer demeanor about him this time around, it seemed like he was nervous you’d actually come to London to see him. Whatever the case may be, you thought it was sweet. The Vessel you’d met was very different from the one standing in front of you. Despite the different circumstances, you actually preferred this version of him.

“Have you been waiting long?” You asked when you headed to the baggage claim that was only a hundred or so feet from the escalators.

“Maybe an hour or so?” He said with a questioning tone. “I can’t quite remember, I just sat in my car for a while until you texted me that you had landed.” His hand rested at the small of your back under the backpack you’d brought as a carry on, guiding you through the crowded area. “Which bags are yours?” You got to the carousel that was unloading the baggage from your flight and watched for your two suitcases.

“Oh, sick they’re coming out together.” You said and began to reach for them, but Vessel had already begun to lift them from the conveyor belt. “Oh you didn’t need to do that.”

He smiled down at you. “I don’t mind at all, plus you’ve had a long day. You gotta rest those arms of yours.” He started walking towards one of the doors that lead outside when he laughed. “I just realized that made no sense, I just needed some excuse to take your bags for you.” You laughed with him. It didn’t even register in your mind that his sentence made no sense, in fact the jet lag was already hitting you hard. At this point you just wanted to lay down and sleep for an entire day.

You step outside and the chill November air of London hits you like a ton of bricks. The air pierced through your sweater and left you to shiver. The idea to check how the weather would be here when you arrived completely slipped your mind while you packed yesterday, though it would be common sense it’d be cold here in November.

You shadowed behind Vessel, letting him lead the way to where he’d parked. It wasn’t too far of a walk from where the two of you had exited, you were just excited to have the heat blasting on you. Luckily you remembered not to go in the right side of the car this time around, you’d embarrassed yourself pretty bad the last time you visited the UK.

“It’s not too far of a drive to my house from here.” Vessel says as he puts one hand behind the headrest of your seat and begins to reverse out of the parking spot. You couldn’t help but watch his face as his brows furrowed a bit while he pulled from the spot, he bit at his lip with concentration. “I wanted to make you some dinner if you don’t mind. Unless you’re dying hungry then I will happily stop somewhere.” The mention of food took you back to reality, the reality where the last time you ate was at 5am your time.. with the time change you cannot remember how many hours ago that was.

“What do you have in mind for dinner?” You ask, eyes wandering out the window as all the streetlights lit up the road.

“Uhh..” He trails off for a moment, the smallest chuckle escaping from his mouth. Your head whips around to see him trying not to laugh, his hand covering his mouth as his chest heaves with every laugh he stifles. “Spaghetti.” You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, a chain reaction spreading between the two of you as he started laughing just as hard as you were. The car was full of your laughter and the snorts that you cannot help once you start laughing this hard.

You began to calm down, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face. “I have no idea if that truly was that funny or I’m just so jet lagged that everything is hilarious to me.” Vessel patted your thigh lightly as went back to focusing on driving rather than crashing from laughing so hard with you.

—————————

After twenty minutes you were pulling into a long driveway, covered by bushes that lead to a home surrounded by forest. You couldn’t see much in the dark but from what you could see, it was a beautiful older home with a lot of charm to it. There were some lights strung up around the outside, and a wreath that hung on the front door.

Vessel took your suitcases from the trunk and you followed him up the steps of the porch, letting him unlock the door and gesture for you to go in before him. The aroma of sweet cinnamon and pumpkin filled your senses, lamps were the only thing lighting up the rooms in the house but added to the calming atmosphere.

Your curiosity got the best of you the second you noticed the corner of the piano in the living room, drawing you in to see the beautiful instrument upclose. Your eyes grew wide when the floor to ceiling bookshelf came into view, expanding from one wall to the other filled to the brim with books. The piano left your mind as you moved to look at his collection, your fingers running over some of the hardcovers of books you’ve always wanted to read. As basic as you were with your favorite, you pulled The Giver by Lois Lowry out of its respective place. You admired the clear love that Vessel has given this book, some of the creases in the pages from him reading it over time and the breakage in the spine of the book.

You put the book back into the place it was originally and continued gawking at his collection. There was a stack of books on a table near the bookshelf that caught your attention, when you moved closer you realized all these books were ones you’d talked to him about over the phone. You felt that pull in your heart, the familiar tug you always felt whenever somebody remembers such small things.

“I knew you’d come in here.” His voice echoed from behind you, startling you out of your trance. “You like it?” He stepped into the room with a smile plastered on his face. “You boasted about how much you loved those books, I couldn’t resist going to the bookstore the next day and buying all of them to read.”

“I’m going to be in heaven here. This collection is what I aspire to have one day.” Your eyes wandered over the bookshelves again, still trying to process the fact that this was an actual thing he had in his home. “It’s amazing, Ves.”

He smiled softly. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I set your things down in the guest room. If you want to get settled I’m going to get started on the spaghetti.” He trailed off to the kitchen, the sounds of pots clanging and cabinets opening and shutting filled the silence of his home. Your feet pulled you away from the room you’d grown to love, leading you to the stairs where you went to find the guest room.

There were paintings hung along the walls of the hallway, each one depicting a beautiful scene. You knew you’d spend some time staring at them and trying to understand the meaning behind it, but tonight your brain was too exhausted to even try.

A door was opened and light flooded the hallway from the room, you assumed that would be the guest room. Luckily you were right because your suitcases were left in the corner of the room and your backpack rested on the bed. It was a cozy room, not too heavily decorated but also not incredibly bland that it drove you nuts. Vessel clearly had a love for the Victorian style, many antiques littered his home and enhanced the coziness even more.

There was a bathroom connected to the room, a little more modernized than the bedroom itself but still had that same feel. It was lovely. Your hands smoothed over the large porcelain tub that sat in the corner of the bathroom, a window that overlooked the forest in front of it.

You began to unpack a bit and put your clothes away into the dresser, setting aside a pair of your pajamas to change into later on. The smell of red sauce flowed into the room and your stomach twisted into a knot. You were absolutely starving and the way the spaghetti was smelling you knew you’d be devouring it.

After a little more unpacking you decided to head back downstairs to see how close dinner was to being ready and if you could help in any way. As you stepped off the stairs the sound of Vessel’s voice caught your attention, he was singing along to the music he was listening to. His velvety voice was much quieter than you've heard it while he performed on stage, but it was rather beautiful this way.

You rounded a corner and walked into the kitchen, the sight of him putting together two plates of the spaghetti and singing was something that pulled at your heart again. “I was just about to call for you, dinner is served!” He exclaimed as he set a plate down at the table. “Do you want any cheese on yours?”

“No thank you.” A smile tugged at your lips as you sat down, waiting for him to come over with his plate and sit with you. “This smells so good, Ves.”

His eyes lit up as he smiled at your compliment. “Thanks, I tried my best to make it halfway decent.” He sat across from you and stared for a bit. “I’m waiting to see what you think..”

“Oh! Sorry.” You reached for the fork, twirling a bunch of spaghetti with it and placing the food into your mouth. It was delicious, probably some of the best spaghetti you’ve had in a long time. After finishing your bite you gave him a nod of approval. “That was amazing. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

He smirked as he chewed his food, twirling the fork in the pasta. “Cooking shows became one of my favorite things to watch during Covid, so I decided to get my shit together with my cooking and learn to do it properly. Now I actually enjoy it.”

“Do you bake as well or just cook?”

“I don’t bake, it seems like fun but I’ve never really had a reason to.”

You gasped in a dramatic fashion. “You’re telling me you don’t enjoy baking brownies at 2am for no reason at all?” He rolled his eyes at your little performance, a smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “We can have a 2am brownie baking party. Just not tonight because I feel like I’m about to fall over in exhaustion.”

“We’ll save it for another night.” He wiped his face with the napkin. “Did you find the room alright? I realized as you went upstairs that I didn’t tell you what room..”

You raised a brow, the same shyness from earlier was back. “Ves?” He glanced up at you and hummed a response. “Are you nervous that I’m here?” He hadn’t expected that question, so as the expression on his face went from shock to slight embarrassment, you could tell his brain was moving a million miles a second.

“Well… erm- to be honest I don’t have many guests over. Only my bandmates come to visit but they only ever stay for a day or two.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “This kind of company is new for me. Especially for how long you’re staying…”

“I’m a wonderful guest.” You placed your hands underneath your chin and put a big smile on your face. “Just ask anyone who has let me stay in their homes for a while.”

“Alright get me that list and I’ll make some phone calls.” Vessel chuckled, standing up and grabbing your empty plate. He walked over to the sink to start on the dishes, turning on the music again and humming quietly.

“Do you want a hand?” You asked as you stood from the table.

He shook his head and turned to look at you. “I’ve got it, you should go get some sleep Y/N you look exhausted.” He turned back to the sink and you watched as his arms flexed each time he put some force to scrub the dishes.

“Alright..” You couldn’t lie, the jet lag was hitting you hard at this point and the lack of sleep you got the night before has made itself very known. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight!” He responded as your feet shuffled back upstairs to your room. It was very quiet up there adding even more to your exhaustion. The set of pajamas you’d laid out before had quickly replaced the clothes on your back and you tossed them to the floor, making a mental note to clean that up tomorrow.

You turned off the lamp in the room and was comforted by the darkness that encompassed you. The sheets were silk and the comforter was heavy, it reminded you of the ones hotels always had. You slipped underneath the covers and laid there for a bit with your eyes open. Eventually you glanced at the clock on the bedside table, 11:24pm it read. You sighed and laid back against the pillows, sleep pulling at your eyelids and drawing them shut.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #vessel #sleep token

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roseddraws · 1 year

Text

Everything stays (but it still changes)

Chapter one

There is a man watching Martyn.

He caught sight of the man out of the corner of his eye a few minutes ago, a glimpse of red fabric at the edge of the firelight. He stays in the shadow of the trees on the edge of the clearing, completely hidden if you don’t know where to look. He doesn’t know he’s been spotted— or at least, Martyn hopes so.

He hasn’t attacked him so far, so Martyn can only assume the man is also struggling to decide what to do with him (i.e. whether it would be worth it to kill him). He slowly moves his hand to his hatchet, keeping his head facing forwards as he nibbles on his hard-earned fish (he’s not sure what kind it is. A sardine? Anchovy?). The smart thing to do would be to move first, while he still has the upper hand. The smart thing to do would be to attack the man before he attacks first.

“You gonna say hello or just watch me from the shadows like a creep?” Martyn turns his head to look at the figure, who jolts and steps back. He’s never claimed to be a smart man, okay?

The man hesitates, then steps out into the light, revealing himself. He’s wearing a torn red flannel that’s half-buttoned and rolled up to his elbows, as well as ripped jeans held up by braces, but the most unusual part of his outfit (despite how completely impractical it already is) are the dark sunglasses over his eyes, in the middle of the night. His dark brown hair is long and similarly unkempt, all tangled up with leaves and twigs, and it’s not even tied up: he’s just letting it fall into his face. His stubbly beard and the plastic bag over his shoulder only complete the homeless look— though Martyn’s in no place to judge; it’s the apocalypse, not a fashion show.

“Uh… hi,” the man says awkwardly. “Mind if I—?”

“Steal my stuff? I think I would mind, actually,” Martyn cuts him off, stuffing the rest of the fish into his mouth and grabbing the other one that had been cooking over the fire, other hand still gripping his hatchet. “Get your own fish.”

The other man holds his hands up placatingly. “I won’t! I’m not gonna rob ya, dude, I was just wondering if I could sit by your fire a bit? I’ve brought my own, uh… meat.” He pats the bag at his side.

“That’s what he said,” Martyn mutters as the unkempt man says the same thing out loud. There’s a beat of silence as the two stare at each other with wide eyes, before Martyn cracks and erupts into giggles.

The man grins. “I’m gonna take that as a yes,” he says, moving to sit across from Martyn, who doesn’t try to stop him. “The name’s Ren, by the way.”

“Martyn,” Martyn replies, eyeing the bag as Ren reaches in and pulls out a huge hunk of something wet and red. “What, uh… what kind of meat you got there?”

Ren tears off a chunk and stabs a stick into it, resting his arm on his leg as he holds it over the fire, avoiding eye contact. “Just… some animal I hunted. Not patient enough for fishing, y’know?”

Martyn opens his mouth to question further, then snaps it shut again. He’s seen the “animals” that wander the city nowadays, and while they’re not the kind of thing he could ever see himself eating (just the thought of it makes him nauseous)… well, it’s the apocalypse isn’t it? You’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do to survive. And if he doesn’t want to talk about it, he won’t push.

“Fair enough,” he says in answer. The conversation goes silent as the two each get on with their own meals, Martyn trying to stretch out his last little finger-sized fish for as long as possible, which is not very long. He forces himself to look away from the mystery meat, which is beginning to smell delicious.

“So, how long have you been travelling alone?” Ren asks finally.

“A bit of a personal question,” Martyn says. “I dunno, I guess. I’ve been part of a few groups here and there, but they’ve never really stuck. They all kind of fell apart, or… died. Or I just got bored of them and left. I’ve been on my own for a month or two by now.”

Ren looks a mixture of distressed and amused. “Should I be worried that at least one of your groups has died before?”

“Should I be worried about how vague you’re being about your meat?”

Ren opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, changes his mind and closes it, then settles on, “Touché.”

He pulls his stick back from the fire, though Martyn is sure the steak isn’t cooked through yet, and blows on it for a few seconds, before getting impatient and ripping it off with his hands. It must be burning hot, but Ren ignores that and tears into it like a starving lion, blood vessels popping and spewing their contents all over him. The steak is gone in seconds.

Martyn just gapes at this disgusting spectacle, speechless. “Um.”

Ren’s head snaps up from where he was licking the blood off his fingers, reminding Martyn of a wolf interrupted mid-meal. Then his face turns pink and he’s a human again, hurriedly wiping bloody hands on his shirt. “Um!”

Martyn forces himself to look away, concentrating on picking as much meat as he can from the bones of the fish. “Hey man, I don’t judge. I get being a little enthusiastic if you haven’t eaten in a while, which I assume is the case since you apparently can’t make your own fire.”

Ren splutters, but the tension eases from his body when he sees that Martyn isn’t disgusted. “You don’t know that! Maybe I just wanted company.”

“Mhm,” Martyn hums, not convinced. “What happened to your group, then?”

Ren rips off another fistful of meat and sticks it over the fire before answering. “Never had one. I’m a bit of a… lone wolf.” He smirks as if at some private joke.

“You’re telling me you survived alone this long without knowing how to build a fire?!”

“Honestly, raw meat isn’t as bad as you’d think.”

Martyn grimaces. “I’ll take your word for it.” He sets the fish bones on the ground, having picked them clean. Ren follows the movement with his eyes.

“Do you, uh, want a bite?” He asks. “I’ve got plenty to spare.”

To his surprise, Martyn actually considers it. It’s been a while since he’s had a proper meal, and, though he’s loathe to admit it, that meat looks good. But he can’t; he’s not that desperate yet.

“No thanks, I’m good. Not hungry.” He manages, then after another awkward pause, turns and pulls a blanket out of his bag. “‘Night, Ren.”

“Wait, you’re just gonna… turn around and go to sleep? In the presence of a stranger?” Ren asks.

Martyn turns back to face him, confused. He sees that the other man’s expression is baffled, and slightly hopeful. “I mean, yeah? I kind of assumed you’d be staying for a bit, unless you really did just come here to cook food.”

His face lights up like a puppy that’s been handed a bone. “Sure! Alright! I don’t mind sticking around for a bit!”

Somewhat bemused, Martyn can’t help but smirk. “How on Earth did you survive this long on your own?”

Ren smiles back. “I have no idea, dude.”

***

Ren would call himself an extrovert.

If you’d asked him a year ago, he would’ve said that was a good thing: he had plenty of friends, and his job was all the more enjoyable when he got to chat with customers. It was fun! His life was good.

Except, these days, it’s more of a curse than a blessing. He wants more than anything to find a group of people and stay with them, to protect them as they protect him, to have a shoulder to lean on and a friend to turn to as the world collapses around them.

But he can’t.

The apocalypse was slow to start. He can’t pinpoint the exact day it began, but if he had to, he’s sure he’d name a much earlier date than most people. Most people would mark the beginning of the apocalypse as the day tree roots started cracking through pavement in the middle of the city, or the day the storms started and didn’t stop, or the day they first saw those wretched not-animals on the news.

Ren marks it as the day he grew a tail.

In hindsight, it wasn’t the first sign: his senses were already stronger than they should’ve been, he was significantly hairier than usual, and he swore his previously brown eyes were starting to look almost yellow. But it was the first thing he couldn’t write off as his imagination; it was as if the universe had gotten sick of him ignoring everything it threw at him and decided to drop all tact and just punch him in the face.

By the time society had officially collapsed, Ren was permanently wearing his hair down to hide his furry ears, and wearing sunglasses to hide his now very clearly yellow eyes, because at this point everyone had heard enough about humans becoming animals to be absolutely terrified if they knew what he was. But even then, it was easy enough to hide his… affliction.

Until it wasn’t.

Until the full moon happened, and he woke up in the ruins of an unfamiliar building, hands and teeth stained with blood. The most disturbing part was that he wasn’t hungry anymore, for the first time since rationing had started; it was like blacking out drunk and waking up with more money than you’d started with.

Since then, he’s gotten better at remembering what he does when in wolf form, and better at switching between forms when he needs to— key word is better, not perfect. There are still relapses, when he gets frightened or angry, and of course full moons, when his control is at its weakest.

Which is why he can’t stay with any group: they’d find out, and they’d be terrified and run away, or just kill him to his face. It’s not worth it, he tells himself time and time again.

And it was easy enough to stay mostly away from people for the first few months, only seeing them in passing, maybe staying for a day and disappearing when they slept. But after a while, people became more and more scarce. Now Ren can go whole weeks without seeing anyone, and when he does they’re more hostile than before.

Last night was a full moon, and he’d spent the whole night and most of the following day as a wolf, not having any reason to bother turning back. The sun set, and he reluctantly switched back to slice up his most recent kill to save for later, when he caught a scent on the wind. He hesitated only a moment, before curiosity got the better of him and he followed his nose down what used to be a street, to what was now a dense wood, to a clearing lit by firelight.

The air was filled with the smell of cooking food, and it made Ren’s mouth water. He hadn’t cooked food since before he’d left home. He hadn’t known how much he’d missed it until he found himself glued to the edge of that clearing, staring hungrily at that fire and the man on the other side of it.

He wore a faded lime green hoodie, rolled up jeans and black trainers, and his chin-length blonde hair was held back by a black bandana. Besides him was sat a white rucksack, open but turned away to hide its contents.

And Ren had meant to leave, he swears, but then Martyn spotted him and spoke to him, and… he wasn’t afraid. He was wary, sure, but he let Ren sit across from him, and he laughed along with his stupid jokes, and he didn’t press him about where he’d gotten his meat (and how human they’d been), and Ren wouldn’t call himself clingy, but… in all honesty, he’d almost teared up when Martyn asked him to stay.

He’s a little attention starved, okay? It’s lonely in the apocalypse.

And not to mention dangerous! It would be irresponsible of him to leave Martyn to wander the city on his own. Strength in numbers, and all that. He’s just keeping him safe, Ren thinks, watching Martyn’s sleeping form as he tears into his second steak.

He firmly refuses to think about the future as he curls up by the fire, clinging to this moment like a lifeline: the smell of good food, and the warmth of the fire and the company follow him into sleep.

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localcryptic · 15 days

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3, 5, n 20 for Ripley and Tal :)

3. Ask them to describe their love interest.

(this is fun since both tal and ripley romance ortega, except tal is romancing julia while ripley is romancing ricardo)

Tal: "She's confident. Strong, in so many ways. So much smarter than anybody gives her credit for. Acts without thinking. She's a force of nature. Stubborn as hell. Too good to me."

Ripley: "Ugh. Stupid sexy asshole who's too charming for his own good. That goddamn idiot with the stupid fucking mustache. Doesn't know when to quit. He's careless, has no sense of self preservation, is a shameless flirt and he's somehow completely oblivious. He keeps dragging me back into his life and I fall for it every fucking time."

5. Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Tal: they would hate giving a speech </3 having all those eyes on them is the nightmare scenario and they're relatively quiet on a good day. they might have the confidence for public speaking when they're acting as their puppet, Eden, but generally i think they'd rather fake their death again than have to talk in front of a crowd. (that being said, i think they have a well rehearsed monologue of things they would love to say to Director Siepen if given the chance. does that count?)

Ripley: certified yapper. i got an achievement on his run of Rebirth because ripley would do a villain monologue literally every chance he got. he like, wrote his thesis on Not Shutting The Fuck Up. as himself, he would shut down if expected to give a speech, but behind the mask of Ruin, he looooves to be a dramatic little fucker and give many, many speeches on the inadequacy of heroes, detailing their failures, verbally decimating them. (this doesn't count as a speech, but it's also very easy to get him infodumping about his interests. ask him a pointed question about musical theater at your own risk, he will talk your ear off for an hour.)

20. What do they like that nobody else does?

Tal: Burnt toast and cheap coffee. Electronic music that sounds like a computer trying to kill itself. Meticulous, boring, repetitive programming work. The shitty mullet they've been growing.

Ripley: The kinds of dogs that the animal shelter labels as "difficult". Shitty punk bands you've never heard of. Cargo pants. Stupid, impractical novelty lighters. Ricardo's stupid mustache </3.

(thank you for askingggg :3 the ask game/question list can be found here)

#my ocs #fhr #fhr posting #fhr sidestep #sidestep #taliesin becker #ripley hawthorn #oc ask game #asks #ask game #cryptic ocs

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anonymousewrites · 2 years

Text

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 1) Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Yellow Graffiti

(Y/N) unwrapped a lollipop as they lay down in the couch. They had helped Sherlock drag the body of a man with a scimitar (impractical weapon in this day and age. And how did he carry it around London without being caught? One mystery (Y/N) wouldn’t solve) out of the flat. Now they were waiting for John to arrive.

“You took your time,” observed Sherlock from where he lounged in his armchair.

“Yeah, I didn’t get the shopping,” said John.

“What? Why?” asked Sherlock.

“Because I had a row, in the shop, with the chip and pin machine,” said John, huffing.

“You had a row with a machine…?” questioned (Y/N).

“Sort of. It sat there, and I shouted abuse at it. Have you got any cash, Sherlock?” asked John.

Sherlock tossed his credit card at John. “Take my card.”

“You sure?” asked John. Sherlock waved him off. “I’ll pay you back.”

“I’ll help carry the shopping if you buy me lollipops,” said (Y/N).

John sighed. “Fine.”

(Y/N) grinned.

When John and (Y/N) returned (with (Y/N) holding a brand new bag of lollipops), they found Sherlock at the computer—John’s computer, to be precise.

“Is that my computer?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Of course,” said Sherlock.

“What?” John glared in exasperation.

“Mine was in my bedroom. (Y/N)’s was in theirs,” said Sherlock, shrugging as if obvious.

“What, and you couldn’t be bothered to get up?” asked John.

“Pretty much,” said (Y/N).

“It’s password protected!” cried John.

“Took me less than a minute to guess your password, not exactly Fort Nox,” pointed out Sherlock.

“Right, thank you,” snapped John. He shut his computer; Sherlock drew his fingers away in time to not get smashed. “You need to get a job, if you’re so bored,” said John.

“No, that’s duller,” said Sherlock. He was quiet for a moment before standing. “I need to go to the bank.”

(Y/N) recognized the look in his eyes. He had a possible case. But he was also…annoyed? Something was making him a little upset.

“Let’s go,” said (Y/N).

Sherlock was deep in thought as they traveled to the bank (this time in a cab not driven by a serial killer). (Y/N) read from him that he was conflicted about this case. They were curious about why, but he did not speak as they went. The second thing that was odd was that they weren’t just at the ATM, they were at the bank—as in bright windows, gleaming metal, polished floors. (Y/N) was growing antsy with wondering what the case was.

“Sherlock Holmes,” said Sherlock to the receptionist, who nodded, expecting him, and began leading them upstairs to the offices of more senior officers. They were brought past the cubicles and sat in a private, fancy office. After a moment of waiting, a man entered.

“Sherlock Holmes!” exclaimed the man.

(Y/N) was immediately reminded of the American high school movies with the one jock who is loud and “friendly” with everyone but in reality is extremely irritating.

“Sebastian,” greeted Sherlock shortly, shaking his hand.

“Howdy, buddy, how long’s it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?” asked Sebastian jovially.

Sherlock nodded stiffly, dislike in his eyes. “This my friend, John Watson, and this is (Y/N).”

“Don’t tell me this is your kid!” exclaimed Sebastian.

“Foster,” said (Y/N), avoiding the handshake. John did shake his hand, though.

“That makes a bit more sense. Girls were never Sherlock’s strong suit. He was too freaky for that,” laughed Sebastian. “Still, thinking of him with a kid in any sense is weird.”

(Y/N) scowled distastefully, and Sherlock stiffened. He cared for (Y/N), and it, as much as he aimed to be sensible, upset him when people tried to suggest they weren’t alright with him. He did his best to keep them safe and healthy.

“Well, grab a pew. D’you need anything? Coffee, water?” asked Sebastian. He shrugged when they shook their heads.

“So, you’re doing well. You’ve been abroad a lot,” said Sherlock curtly.

“Well, some,” said Sebastian.

“Flying all the way around the world twice in a month?” asked Sherlock.

Watch, thought (Y/N).

Sebastian laughed. “You’re the doing the thing.” He looked to John. “We were Uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do.”

“It’s not a trick,” muttered (Y/N).

“He could look at you and tell you your whole life story. Put the wind up everybody. We hated him,” teased Sebastian.

(Y/N) bristled. “I’ve seen him do it,” said John. He was also not happy with how Sebastian was talking about Sherlock.

“You’d come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall, and this freak would know who you’d been shagging the previous night,” continued Sebastian.

“I simply observed,” said Sherlock quietly.

“Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world—you’re quite right,” admitted Sebastian. “How could you tell? You’re gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan. Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!”

Annoyed with his smugness, (Y/N) leaned forward. With the irritation, they weren’t anxious at all (though they would be in a moment when this was done). “Your watch has the time right but the date wrong. That means you crossed the dateline twice and haven’t bothered to correct it. Your watch is a new Breitling that was only released early this month. Put that all together and you get two trips around the world in a month.” (Y/N) smirked at Sebastian’s surprised face. “Freaky what someone smart can do, right?” they teased.

Sherlock smiled to himself. Granting mercy on Sebastian’s pride, he said, “So, Sebastian, why have you asked me in today?”

“We’ve had a break in.” To save face, Sebastian got down to business. He stood and led the group to another office. “Sir William’s office—the bank’s former Chairman. The room’s been left here like a sort of memorial. Someone broke in last night,” explained Sebastian.

“What did they steal?” asked John.

“Nothing. Just left a message,” said Sebastian. He gestured to the portrait of Sir William on the wall where yellow graffiti ran across the eyes. The shape was of an eight with the top opens and a line above. “Now, here’s the root of the problem.” He showed them to the security office and showed them the camera footage. There was a glitch for precisely sixty seconds. Before the time passed, there was no graffiti. When it was fixed, there was the symbol. “So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, and then left within a minute.”

“How many ways into that office?“ asked (Y/N).

“Well, that’s where this really gets interesting,” said Sebastian. “Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in cupboard, toilet.”

“And that door didn’t open last night,” said Sherlock.

“There’s a hole in our security. Find it and we’ll pay you—five figures. This is an advance.” Sebastian handed a check over. “There’s a bigger one on its way.”

“I don’t need an incentive. (Y/N), come on,” said Sherlock, turning away. (John took the check before following after them)

(Y/N) and Sherlock began looking around the office. They needed to see who the message was for, and to do that they needed to see from where the graffiti was visible. Then, they peered out of the all the doors and windows to see what was around. After they gathered all the information they could, they met back up with John.

“I grabbed the name,” said (Y/N), holding up the sign from the one cubicle where you could clearly see the graffiti. “Edward Van Coon.”

“Excellent,” said Sherlock. “John, we’re leaving.”

“Finally,” sighed (Y/N) in relief.

“Don’t you think we should have maybe looked around a bit more? Maybe asked a few people who worked last night if they saw anything weird? Maybe someone was bribed,” said John as they left the bank.

“We got everything we need,” said (Y/N), holding up the cubicle plaque that read “Edward Van Coon.”

“The graffiti was intended for someone who at the bank working on the trading floors,” explained Sherlock. “We find the intended recipient…”

“…and that’ll lead us to the sender,” finished (Y/N).

“Wait, there’s three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?” asked John in confusion.

“Because of the cubicles, pillars, and screens, you can’t see the graffiti entirely from most positions,” said (Y/N). “From the people who were able to see it from where they worked, Sherlock just had to reference who can in to work closest to right after the graffiti was applied. Tada, Van Coon. So then I checked the phone book. We got lucky, only one Edward Van Coon.”

“Let’s go have a talk with him,” said Sherlock. “Taxi!”

#a study of the heart and brain #sherlock x teen reader #sherlock x teen!reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock #bbc sherlock #teen reader #x teen!reader #x teen reader #x gn reader #gn reader #x nb reader #nb reader #x reader

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lingshanhermit · 6 months

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Lingshan Hermit: Is It the Buddha or the Devil Awakening?

In a society like India with a thousands-of-years tradition of revering ascetics, why have so many rape cases recently erupted? To the point that the whole world now discusses India's dark turn. I have been asked such questions before.

Regarding the rape incidents in India, I previously watched an Indian TV drama called "Delhi Crime" I believe. In Delhi Crime Season 2, it depicted a tragic story - a woman murdered an entire family of her client through cruel means. This murderous woman was from the lower echelons of Indian society. Working at a small Delhi beauty parlor, she had the opportunity to interact with wealthy clients coming for treatments. There was an elderly rich regular client who loved her massage technique, always requesting her service. Perhaps because the massages were too long and boring, the two began chatting, and she started sharing her own story. The rich old lady seemed sympathetic after hearing it, wanting to help, often telling her that once she found a suitable place, she could assist in opening her own parlor. Such irresponsible words made her mistakenly believe they had a friendship, mistakenly thinking this woman was a benefactor in her life. But later, that person did not fulfill her promise. She seriously started looking for a place, and when she found a suitable one and brought it up, the old lady was dumbfounded (likely not even remembering saying such things), advising her to just work hard instead of fantasizing about impractical things daily. Her life hopes were shattered, she felt cheated and started hating this world. One night after, she and some acquaintance friends broke into that rich woman's gated community, brutally killing her entire family, not even sparing guests at their home. She also stole and sold many of the woman's valuables. This woman had a husband and children, but had long run away from home, never returning after leaving. A restless soul, she felt she should not live in poverty, should not be stuck in an obscure village - feeling the heavens treated her unjustly, so she left her hometown for Delhi, determined to use her own strength to forcefully attain happiness. (Many modern scholars and intellectuals see this as female awakening, but if such an "awakening" only brings disaster, then it is merely the devil awakening.) But this forced pursuit of happiness only ended up bringing immense disaster to herself and others.

For thousands of years, Indian society has relatively been a place of peace, with most Indians docile and content under the strict caste system, the higher and lower castes largely coexisting peacefully for most of the time. But now the situation has completely changed. In the past decade or so, Indian society has frequently seen negative rape news emerging. Many view India as a no-go zone for female travelers, but few understand why the peaceful, fatalistic Indians of the past thousands of years have suddenly turned into fearsome criminals. From what I can see, there are many reasons, including the large-scale invasion of inexpensive smartphones into Indian society, the popularity of films like "Dangal" and "Lipstick Under My Burkha," the proliferation of pornographic videos - these have all played an undeniable role in rewriting Indians' mindsets and ways of thinking. Unlike a century ago, today's Indians can see others' lives daily on TikTok, see scantily clad women dancing, see celebrity parties. When you see someone else's drink costs more than your income for several years, few remain unmoved. The internet also has many teaching how to become wealthier, how to turn others' money into your own. Consuming such content frequently, even decent practitioners would be influenced, let alone ordinary people whose faith is far more fragile. Previously you could only see neighbors' lives, but mobile internet's proliferation gives you the chance to see lives and value systems worldwide. You see many living completely differently - expressive individualists, stopping at nothing, yet seemingly living well. This causes values you previously upheld to start crumbling. Slowly, you go from being contented and honest to restless and anxious; the devil within awakens, your desires activate, you start feeling you should not live this way, that you could actually live much better. But changing your destiny is extremely difficult, as it means creating immense good karma short-term, impossible for ordinary people. For them, the only way is crime, making deals with the devil. Inexpensive smartphones made going online extremely convenient, enveloping us in all sorts of information daily, gradually replacing traditional mindsets with so-called modern thinking. Traditional culture is vanishing, more in Indian society have their minds filled with new thinking, the gates holding their desires thus opened. Shy low-caste youths who used to blush at words have become rapists; women previously devoted to husbands and children have become willing to kill to open parlors. India's traditional culture is being slaughtered through various means, and its death's consequence is more people having desires unleashed. Meaning everyone starts becoming dissatisfied with their lot, coveting things not theirs, finding ways to divide others' wealth, making life increasingly perilous. But such things are not just happening in Indian society - nearly every culture and ethnic group worldwide is experiencing similar situations. No matter where you are, you will be deeply impacted.

Originally posted on April 6, 2024.

Copyright Notice：All copyrights of Ling Shan Hermit's articles in Simplified and Traditional Chinese, English, and other languages belong to the natural person who owns "Ling Shan Hermit". Please respect copyright. Publishers, media, or individuals (including but not limited to internet media, websites, personal spaces, Weibo, WeChat public accounts, print media) must obtain authorization from Ling Shan Hermit before use. No modifications to the articles are allowed (including: author's name, title, main text content, and punctuation marks). We reserve all legal rights.

灵山居士：苏醒的是佛还是魔

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stalkersdiary · 1 year

Text

~On a date with you~ (NSFT)

I can't help but shake in nervousness. It's the first time I've been able to actually meet you face to face, and for you to actually acknowledge me as a friendly and safe-ish person. I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest.

How's your day, what do you do, etc… All so boring to as I already know the answers but, I am just happy to hear you willingly speak to me. I'm happy to hear your voice again. I almost get that giggly goofy face I usually make when I hear you over the phone but I stop myself before I act weird. "So, what made you think of going out with me?" The one question I genuinely didn't know the answer to.

As you gave your reason I smiled, knowing finally that you have no idea who I am. I am so happy you don't. This was my one chance to make this count and I wasn't going to drop the ball by giving out any of my secrets. I tell you I'm a local actor and that that was why I have so many props and weird things around my house. I tell you my story as if I was a character in a movie. You find my skill and job somewhat charming. It's impractical but you seem to be amused by it.

The date is over sooner than I wanted but I was thrilled that you seemed interested in me. I ask if you want to go to my house or if you want to stop the date there and I drive back you to your place. I wasn't going to push it. I was already on cloud nine knowing you enjoyed my company. Shockingly, you say the one thing I was hoping for. You say you want to come to my place.

I try not to scream or rip my skin off in joy. I take your jacket, hanging it up and I join you on the couch. We continue talking and laughing about silly things and I can't help but gaze at you in bliss. This is all I've been wanting. At one point in our conversation, I gently cup your face. I lean closer to you, and I see you part your mouth. I begin to slowly wonder if you want to kiss me, and I tested the waters. I got closer and... well, you kissed me first. You kissed me. You did want me to kiss you.

I immediately reciprocate and try not to get too excited. I love how your lips feel. They're so soft against mine. I gently press my tongue into your mouth and for the first time, I taste you.. I couldn't even taste any remnant of the drug I snuck into your food. Just sweetness. Fuck, I was hooked I grabbed you by the waist, pulling you closer to me. Our bodies were pressed together and yet I could still feel you drop into my arms.

"Are you wanting to stay the night?" I ask, obviously hoping for a yes. You think for a moment nod. I gently push you down into the cushions and begin showing you years of my love. I bite your neck, your ears, your shoulders, anywhere I can reach. I can feel you squirm beneath me and I slide my legs between yours.

I stop and chuckle, knowing this is going a little faster than I planned. I invite you into my room and mention that my bed is a far more comfortable that this couch we're currently playing on.

After you agree to following me into my room, I open the door, I watch you enter, and before you can wonder why there are already pictures of you I close the door behind us and you fall to the ground unconscious.

I hope the fall didn't hurt you. You did hit the ground. I didn't think that you would be that strong but the medicine had to work at some point. I did put a lot of it in. I check a few times to make sure you're asleep all the way as I try to get you to respond to questions. You don't say anything. I lift your hand, shake you, N O T H I N G.

I gently lift you, carry you to my basement, turn my dim emergency lights on, and lay with you on the actual bed I intended to take you to. I hope you don't feel too uncomfortable when you wake up. The zipties aren't too tight but I know that the industrial lifting chains are heavy and cold.

I know you're going to wonder about what happened to you. Just rest assured that I am no creepy pill offering date-rapist. I wanted you to feel me touch you and for you to be aware. I want you to feel good even if you tell me no. I want to make you scream, beg, and cry for me in pleasure as you coat my hands in cum. I want to break you. I want to fuck you so hard that you can't think, or say anyone's name but my own. Let me own you. Let me love you. Let me worship you. Let me ruin you.

Being the gentle new boyfriend that I am, even give you my blanket as I know the basement can be chilly. I sing to you as you sleep, I give you an extra pillow, and I hope you soon discover you're as in love with me, as I am with you. I love you.

This is dedicated to my friend who wanted me to write this little concept. ^^ Hope you enjoyed it, Rabb!t.

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campcrow2 · 9 months

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101 curious questions - 10, 26, 35, 38, 39, 55, 75, 79, 97

10. What’s your boring hobby you still enjoy?

It’s been a while. But I like knitting. I haven’t done it in a while. You’d think knitting would be good at dialysis but…nope they don’t want you moving your hands a ton because of the blood lines and stuff.

26. What does your fav tattoo mean? Or if you had to get a tattoo what would it be and why?

I don’t have a tattoo rn. I want one. I wanna get a turtle like a sea turtle but realistically I’m gonna get the dates 11/11/09 and 11/3/23 cuz those are my transplant dates and I think it’s important to celebrate the gifts I got from those families.

35. What’s the last good book you’ve read?

Technically Percy Jackson. Cuz I reread them when the series was announced. They’re very well written.

38. Favorite movie?

Easy A.

39. Favorite song?

Depends on the mood I will say fireflies is always a good song and it could be because I was 17 when it came out and also Adam young is a friend of a friend and from Minnesota.

55. What’s one talent you wish you had?

Idk I wish I could sing or maybe something crazy impractical like guessing lottery numbers lol.

75. What’s a movie you know is bad but enjoy anyways?

Harry Potter. Cuz I grew up on them. But like to watch an objectively bad movie like bad acting…..idk like the hobbit….they didn’t need to make that a 3 movie thing. It’s a small book.

79. Years hats your most prized possession?

My degree. It sounds so stupid. But I actually worked my ass off to get into college and graduate. I had just had my first transplant had to drop out twice because of major illness with rejection and pneumonia 3 times. Like I worked hard to get into a good university and finish with a 3.5 and it sounds stupid but I’m proud of myself for accomplishing that.

97. What’s your favorite word?

I mean I swear like a sailor. So probably fuck. But I also love the word onomatopoeia just…feels nice to say lol.

Thanks for the asks!

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bestflyerprinting · 1 year

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Stay Organised - Old-Fashioned Printed Planner

The organisation of my personal life is one area in which technology has failed me. I’ve gone the archaic route of keeping track of everything on a printed notebook, yes - like old-school paper! Here’s why it works so well. December is “buy a new planner” month for me. It’s been five years since I gave up trying to organise my life with technology. Since then I’ve bought basic planners from the store or really made it my own with notepad printing or custom notebooks. My cell phone calendar was a waste of time and energy; I hated trying to enter simple descriptions, dates, and times while being asked a bunch of annoying questions like “Do you need a reminder?” and “What kind of alarm should sound and how often?” I also disliked having to abbreviate my thoughts. I tried iCal on my Mac, but that was inconvenient when I didn’t have my laptop around, or if I had to open it up just to check a single detail. The “random bits of paper everywhere” method was also a failure and needs no further explanation. I realised something had to change because I was stressed out and disorganized. That’s when I splurged and bought my first-ever Moleskine planner. It was a beautiful, old-fashioned paper notebook-style planner, with a weekly layout on one side and a lined page for notes on the other. I chose bright red since it would be easy to find in my bag and around the house. Soon it was full of the crucial information that had previously been scattered throughout my house. For the first time in months, I felt relaxed and confident that I could manage the many demands of my life at that time, which included juggling a newborn baby, semi-single parenthood (my partner was away for work during the week), and my last year of university. Every December, I look forward to the special ritual of opening up my brand new planner — always red — and filling out the birthdays, holidays, and events that will take place the next year. There are, however, lots of reasons why I love my planner beyond being organised: 1. There’s no battery to recharge and pens are available everywhere. It’s lightweight and versatile, with pages for my kids to scribble on if they’re bored, rather than handing over my phone for games. 2. I feel less rude pulling out my planner to scribble a note in the middle of a conversation than pulling out my phone. For all my friend might know, I could be texting someone else, and nothing infuriates me more. 3. There are lots of cool companies to support. Although I’ve usually bought Moleskine, which is durable and has a lovely feel, I’ve recently learned some less-than-savoury things about their environmental record. This time I’m going to look for something that’s greener and produced closer to home. 4. A paper planner is a conversation starter. People are always surprised to see mine appear and most say they want one, too. (I think everyone’s fed up with the impracticality of phone calendars.) 5. My collection of past planners is an instant collection of diaries. Without any extra effort, I have a fairly detailed record of everything I’ve done for the past five years. If you’re looking for an alternative way to stay organised, give a good old paper planner (or notepad printing for a personalised option) a try. You may be pleasantly surprised at how effective it is.

Shared from https://fromhelveticatoprint.weebly.com/blog/stay-organised-old-fashioned-printed-planner

#notebooks #printed notepads #notepad printing #notepads

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sixthweyoun · 2 years

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What kind of people are they most likely to clash with?

oh this is a GOOD fucking question thank you anon

People who underestimate his intelligence, or who ignore the fact that he very much is a person capable of making decisions for himself. His conditioning still deeply impacts his life, and will probably continue to impact his life for a long time, but that doesn't make him less of a person, it doesn't mean he can never grow beyond its parameters, and it doesn't mean his value as a person is proportional to how much he grows beyond it. He has some very strong opinions about the way that the Federation sees itself as so morally superior to the Dominion but often objectifies him in similar (though less overt) ways.

If someone infantilizes him ("oh your mind is too fragile/damaged ever be able to make independent decisions or form opinions that deviate from what you were taught") or demonizes him ("I don't trust you because I don't know what the Founders programmed into you and you could be dangerous") then he's going to not want much to do with them. He knows how he works, he knows his limitations and skills and he's starting to get to the point where he can look at a lot of what the Founders did to his people and be like "yeah, that's wrong and unethical." But growth and recovery are not things he owes to anyone else, and no one gets to tell him to speed up the process for their personal comfort.

#answered ask #it's not a 1:1 parallel because very few things in fiction are #but if it's not obvious i am drawing a parallel here to the way that ableism is used to gatekeep people from making decisions autonomously #because neurodiversity theory/critical disability theory is my passion and i enjoy applying it to sf/f settings #thesis statement: vorta conditioning is a neurodivergence #it can be distressing or beneficial but it is foremost a different way of experiencing and processing the world #it's like autism where there's so few cases where it isn't co-mingled with trauma that trauma just is part of the profile/experience #follow up thesis statement: weyoun 6 as a 'defective' vorta is neurodivergent by vorta standards #the question a lot of people ask when it comes to vorta is 'what are they like in the complete absence of their conditioning?'#and I think that's an impractical question to ask and a boring one #the better question to ask is 'what are they like when they're no longer afraid?'#anyway. sorry for writing this wholeass novel in the tags lol. actually wait no I'm not #you follow this blog you deal with my weird tangents about how the dominion works

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unwilling-souls-if · 2 years

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I'm curious!

18. Are any of the ROs scared of clowns? and 16. ROs thoughts on storm? :D

I feel like I'm hallucinating, but did you perhaps change the banner of your intro post? I'm lost lol!

Hi! :) I did change the banner a few days ago haha, I was bored (and indecisive as always). Kudos for noticing! I also don’t have a very good sense of aesthetics so it may change again whoops--

To answer your questions:

Are any of the ROs scared of clowns?

Charlotte is the only one scared of clowns because one made her cry in public as a child (it’s one of these embarrassing moments she thinks about on some nights even years later), but Xander is also a bit uncomfortable with anything circus themed. The others aren’t scared!

Now for their thoughts on storms:

Xander: It’s his element. 10/10, he spent many hours sitting at the edge of a cliff watching waves crash down (his mother was terrified of this and he promised her to stop— he never did). The cold wind biting his skin makes him feel alive. He came back home drenched so many times it’s a miracle he never had pneumonia.

Charlotte: She’s scared of storms and can not sleep if it happens at night. The sound of wind, thunder, or heavy rain makes her anxious and she wraps herself in blankets, far away from any windows and puts music on to have background noise. She lights some candles too, in case electricity shuts down, and reads some of her favorite books. Stormy days are the ones she indulges in the most self-care.

Dione: Storms are usually a bother to her since it can mean delays on missions. Most of the time she’s indifferent, but there are rare occurrences where storms happen when she’s in a bad mood. In that case she stands at a window, hearing rain beat up the glass and feeling nature rage like she does. It’s vaguely satisfying.

Perceval: Xe are a sun lover, so storms get xem a bit down. Before Majid got to H.E.L.L. xe used storms as an opportunity to stay inside and do some tidying up, but the boy is absolutely terrified of storms. Perceval dislikes those days purely for the fear xe can see in Majid’s eyes, and always tries to distract him with some indoor gardening or board games.

Crescent: Storms are impractical for them since they travel a lot by foot, hunting their targets. Off the clock, it doesn’t matter since they’re probably partying in some rich person’s underground club or meeting with friends or business partners. The weather doesn’t mean much to them as long as they can have a glass of champagne and someone to talk to.

Thank you so much for the ask <3

#ro:xander #ro:charlotte #ro:perceval #ro:dione #ro:crescent

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bakingandbooks3 · 3 years

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A Court of Song and Serpents

A bit short but the begging of a project I'm SO excited for- hope you love this as much as I do.

Summary: What a time to be alive as Nesta Archeron, going backward to move forward and finding that the places she once called home are now empty tombs.

Nesta

Nesta held her breath for a moment, a pause, and stilled entirely. The Court of Nightmares. She knew the verdict would be severe, but never would she have expected exile to a world of terror. The horrors of that place, of how it was once the main residence of the High Lord- till Rhysand.

Rhysand, the man who boasted of lands bountiful with choice and reason, now sat across from her donning unmasked hatred. A look he kept shielded from his mate, reserved just for Nesta. The kind that rips one apart from the inside out, would carve out the belly of a beast, burn a witch on a wooden pyre.

Nesta felt nothing, she always did. It wasn’t hard to see what he was thinking of her, how his beautiful wife’s wretched sister was little more than a gambling thief who slept her way through his glorious city. Now, fingers smeared that blank canvas so pure of her darkest shades.

Eyes flicking back, she studied that same sister. The Cursebreaker, the Savior.

How small and insignificant she became next to the glimmering shining thing Feyre was. The lands spoke of her beauty and kind touch, and how she sacrificed everything to save a world of people, and Fae that she was raised to despise.

Nesta wished it’d be known that her touch wasn’t always kind.

She built her bricks firm enough that her house of grace never shattered; Held firm, it was all she had left in her. Too many eyes on her filled with grief, excitement, retribution-Nesta was keenly aware of how this Court of Dreams felt of her.

“This is an exile.”

Rhysand's smirk peaked so slightly, his mate tensing.

“No, no. This is an intervention, a chance for you to find yourself away from bad influences and habits. You can’t keep living like this, and I refuse to let it continue happening and I take the fall for it. Your decisions are impractical and immoral. You are sober much less than you are drunk and-”

“If you’re going to condemn me, do it. But don’t sit here and act as if this is out of kindness.” Nesta snarled. She hated the barbed words, but it’s what she felt. “Who are you to question my morality?”

“I think I can speak for my wife when I say that your presence here is….” Rhysand growled but pulled back, like he forgot Feyre was right there, too.

Nesta wished he would’ve let go, so maybe that facade Rhys reserved for Feyre was broken. No, that’s cruel. As much as she hated this and him, he was making her sister happy.

Something Nesta could never do.

“I do not give a shit what my presence is doing. The decision has already been made, so stop scolding me like a child and make good on your word, Rhysand.” Bile rose in her throat, the words feeling nothing but slimy and disgusting. Foreign, yet habitual all the same. Sometimes, she forgets there once was a woman called Nesta who was so much more than the viper living in her now.

Sometimes she remembers that she can’t ever be her again.

Home was nowhere for her, not in a person, not in a place, certainly not in this bombastic group of “heroes”. Nesta didn’t need a hero, she just needed someone to care. But Nesta knew better, no one would. She was taught to be unlovable, just a woman to be sold off and married- to climb her mothers' ever-growing social ladder.

But Nesta on her own was never enough, even with her mother six feet under and rotted away there were unsung expectations unmet. She was a catastrophic failure and a dark smear on a family name that never truly held weight to her.

Nesta looked up, felt everything all at once again, could only see one man pacing a worn-through tether between them. He wasn’t going to stop this, but she could see it, how it looked like he wanted to jump out of his own flesh, the veins of his arm prominent and knuckles normally so brown a new fresh fallen snow.

There was no prince to save Nesta, much less any will to save herself. So when Mor took the pleasure of bringing her to a living Hell, Nesta did not fight.

She was tired of fighting, after all, she fought an inescapable fate for the first twenty years of her life…

Flowers always made Nesta sneeze, but Elain lit like lights during winter whenever she could thread them through her hair. They all symbolized something, Laine would say. There are ones for good days, and hard storms, for sunshine and stars.

Nesta was always adorned in flowers that paralleled the estate. Astute, cold, tired, where she was warm, comforting, and smelled like cookies- ones that Celia normally baked for the sisters. She never asked Laine why she picked the ones for her that she did, her reasons would stay silent for now.

Spring was a high time of activity in the Archeron estate. There was always a flurry of activity, from preparing their mothers' obscene balls, to guests at every corner in every room. The halls were sprinkled in candles and on walls hung frames nearly kissing it was packed so tight.

They were in the gardens. It was an Elain day, as the girls would call it, and no matter how boring or mundane her wishes were they’d be fulfilled. Nesta was propped on the floor in front of Laine, who was bunching handfuls to weave in tangled auburn coils that gathered on Nesta’s head- as a bird's nest would.

Eventually, Nesta would have to learn braids or risk knotting the curls entirely.

The eldest basked in the silence she created from mentally muting her middle sister, and spared a glance at Feyre. What she saw was not surprising, but required far more willpower than she expected to not burst into laughter and risk the flowery rat's nest on her scalp.

Feyre appeared to be so bored out of her mind she was eating discarded flowers of Elains. Actually, ingesting them, as if she was a critique. When Elain wasn’t looking at Feyre, she’d grab another couple and study them- analyzing her next experiment. Glaring at the blues and yellows as if she was speaking to them, “Which one of you will make me puke the fastest so I can run away?”

In time, Feyre looked up from her taste tests to see Nesta grinning at her so violently you’d think Feyre hung the moon.

And Feyre beamed back, crossing a pinkie across her chest and pointing it back to Nesta. Then she viciously spit out the grass she’d just finished chewing, crying directly at Laine, “This MUST stop at once, my stomach hurts far too much to continue on here.”

Elain, in a garden so quiet, simply ignored her sister's poor attempts at escape. Making Nesta work even harder to stifle the shaking of her shoulders, covering her mouth and nose before she started wheezing. Elain would hardly hurt a fly but sent Nesta a glare that could’ve easily killed a man.

Nesta cleared her throat, “I do believe there are more of the blue flowers down that hill near the pond. Would you mind getting some more for Laine?”

Feyre was already on her feet, mouthing her thanks as Elain turned her back to get the next bunch of flowers, “Why of course I will!” And with a very bad curtsey, Feyre threw off her shoes and was rolling down the hill, spinning wildly, her laughter sure to be heard in meadows far beyond theirs.

You would find the Archeron sisters all together, or never in the same place.

Laine was the easiest to find, by the waters or pond on the east side, in gardens surrounded with bugs and willows calling to the young girl. She could hardly read but if the text included any mention of colors and blooms, suddenly she was a scholar. Elain was not simple or dull, but rather a passive spirit, like a summer wind- brief, fleeting, but teeming with love and hope.

Feyre, as their mother said, was a reckless wild child. Far too young to care, far too small to be whipped into shape. If you were sent to find her and your life depended on it, may the Mother bless you. Feyre liked the kitchen, because of the immaculate food and maids who would shove any sweet down the littlest Archerons throat. But, also for the immeasurable amount of sharp items to be found in there. If it was pointy and could stab a wall or scare their ice-cold mother, Feyre would be running the halls with it in hand or making targets of her fathers old trade route maps.

Then there was Nesta, the firstborn. Molded to be another woman that she somehow couldn’t fit, as if her feet were too big or hair too long, Nesta was outgrowing the standards forged into her being. You would see her as a ghost, floating in and out of rooms, comfortable in silence and slumber, but never escaping people. She loved the maids and could recite all of their names like clockwork, and the workers loved her in turn. Always stuck in new worlds between pages or willingly dragged by the two youngers, Nesta teemed with liberation. She was often alone, but never lonely, and found new loves in the library or in the fields beyond marble confines.

Adela was constantly dissatisfied with her eldest's progress inside these walls, as if at eight she should’ve already been engaged to a prince. Granted, Adela knew better. Nesta would never truly find another kingdom to buy into when she already had a crown waiting for her elsewhere. She was known as fair and beautiful beyond her years, would age like fine wine, and become so much greater than Adela ever was. What Nesta saw as fit would normally come to be, an instinct Adela was unprepared she would inherit. Nothing left her more confused than this daughter only by blood, who was hated by both her parents for reasons far from the same, and how at less than ten years had an entire mansion wrapped around her fingers.

But Adela would wait, and simply leave them be for now. When viper's strike, they kill. And even though the Matron of the house wanted her little queen gone, she had other ways to see this through.

Anyways, children's blood on her hands would stain her diamonds.

---

Cassian

Cassian was violently fucking ill. Watching whatever the fuck that was did not help in the slightest. The second she was gone, so was he.

The General and High Lord were not on speaking terms, his presence was an obligation and not a request. When Rhys first displayed his plans, Cassian just about murdered him. Had his brother on the table in a chokehold that the Shadowsinger had to come and release Rhys from. The way his so-called family planned her exile was… horrific.

Cassian was full of light and humor, but not dull the way his family made him out to be. He could see this for what it was, punishing an already broken female for not meeting every damn need of a fully grown woman that was no longer her responsibility. Cass knew better than to downplay the sacrifices Feyre made, but he was also well aware that Nesta's habits were hardly a financial problem and more of a reputation scandal.

That’s what the High Lord did best, when his Court was breaking at the bonds, the mess would “disappear”. Just like the Illyrians hidden in the mountains, the displaced families of Spring, the homeless warriors of Night.

Cassian loved his brother, but more often than not he wondered when Fate would come to bite them in the asses for Rhys’ neglect.

Now, here he was, in his mothers' cabin, wings dragging behind him wiping tears long since shed over a woman who was thrown to the wolves and torn into so many scraps he wasn’t sure how he could put her together again.

He missed his Nesta, the one who threw glares and begged for her people, not this one who hardly spoke and caved into herself enough that she couldn’t see where she was heading.

Cassian fingered for his mug in the wooden cabinets and hit his mark, soon placing water to heat over a small fire over the counter.

He was not okay, not okay at all.

When you look for something in the dark for too long, you eventually find what you need but not always in the way you expect. Cassian coped the same as Nesta Archeron in his first years post-war. It was suffocating trying to be the happy one while dying inside. He watched men he looked up to fall and a lover he admired take her last breath- too much in far too little time. Cassian was not an idiot, he was simply perplexed. Why was he allowed to grieve in unacceptable manners, but Nesta was a sinner in holy clothing?

Bright walls and unlit rooms in the house were silent, only the winds of the mountains singing outside. The newly dusted snow wrapped the dirt in a delicate kiss- a forbidden touch. It was the peak of winter, just after Feyre’s birthday and another insufferable party.

One that Nesta wasn’t invited to.

Cassian wished he wasn’t invited either.

The cup in his hands was dwarfed in comparison to the bulky Illyrian holding it, but at least it was warm. At least it wasn’t empty.

Because if there was one thing he knew, it could always be worse.

Cassian knew that if things were a little different, he’d be the one sitting in a prison of darkness and Hell because of mistakes made as a child. He’d be exiled by family, cast away by the only living remains of a life once lived.

Nesta didn’t know but long before this he had called it even, their sins atoned for in hurting each other equally.

She was the only one in the world who could tell which smiles he was faking.

To anyone on the outside, one kiss was merely that. How curious it was, the iceberg went far deeper.

So when the mug crashed against the wall, and in its wake resembled his inner turmoil, Cassian took to the skies and found himself at the door of a place far too familiar.

AHHHHHHHH OMG OKAY hope you guys enjoyed this:) if you want to be added to the tag list let me know!

@lovemeforever12345 @champanheandluxxury @nahthanks@perseusannabeth@queenestarcheron@silvernesta

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