#i just am scared if i quit and go somewhere else there will be worse problems

[bi-buck-coded]

Having a second job is nice, having extra income and a job where i get to actually socialize with my coworkers is nice. Until i have to go in with a migraine and be a Customer Service Girlie for 4.5 hours. And this is after completing 8 hours of my primary job where i had to stare at screens all day with said migraine. Like i dont regret having a second job, i just wish they gave me more hours on the regular bc right now if i call out sick i only get 10 hours this week which is barely anything

[save-the-villainous-cat]

"You must feel betrayed," the villain said quietly. It wasn't quite a whisper but the hero was already used to their rather calm nature. It didn't help them at all, though. The acid feeling in their throat wouldn't disappear and neither would the horrible, horrible guilt.

"I failed, didn't I?" they asked. They could barely breathe. Their hands were shaking.

"This isn't the end of the world," the villain said. They sat down on the kitchen chair. "How is your arm?"

The hero looked down at the cast and despite the pain seeping through it, they couldn't really care enough to take any medication. On most days, when their mind bore their rawest desires once they woke up, they wished to wake up somewhere else. They wished all of this was a bad dream, a reality they could escape eventually. But it wasn't. It really wasn't.

"It wasn't a clean break," the hero said. "I didn't expect it to be one."

They were begging for the villain's comfort. Both of them knew it. Crawling to their enemy in the middle of the night wasn't the only humiliating thing.

No, rather that the villain was the last person there was to crawl to - that was even worse.

"I am scared," the hero admitted. They were vulnerable already. And they figured this life was over anyway. This superhero life.

"I know," the villain answered. Their eyes were on the hero but they were gentle, they were pitiful. "But what has happened to you is not your fault. And what they did to you wasn't either."

What had happened to the hero had been simple. Abuse over years from their superior. It had been an open secret that the hero would end up in the hospital wing several times when the superhero's patience would be short-lived. For whatever reason, the hero had always been their favorite target and the hero suspected it had something to do with their resilience.

But what they had done to the hero...The hero suspected the villain wasn't referring to the superhero but someone else entirely. That was the whole reason why the hero was here in the villain's kitchen in the first place.

The hero sat down on another chair and combed with their healthy hand through their hair. For a few moments, they held their own face in their hand, longing for some comfort, even if it was their own hand.

"I must have been quite the unpleasant person in my previous life to deserve this," the hero joked but the villain didn't smile. They leaned forward.

"Your sidekick didn't betray you because you weren't good enough," the villain said. "They believe the lies the superhero tells them. They believe the fairytales and the bedtime stories. They believe there are easy solutions to complex problems. They believe that you have to become just as evil to defeat the bad guys."

"I failed them, then. I tried everything I could to-"

"No. You didn't fail them," the villain said. "The superhero is more powerful than you are. They are more influential."

"But I should have taught my sidekick to-"

"No." The hero was surprised by the sharpness of the villain's voice. Their nemesis took in a breath and tried to collect themselves. "Listen. You're not flawless. No one is. But you are closer to it than any of the rest of us. You tried everything you could. But what on earth are you supposed to do when you are getting beaten up by your own boss all the time?! You never got the chance to teach your sidekick anything."

The hero didn't say anything to that. Deep down, they knew the villain was right about that last part. But the guilt devoured them like a cancer.

"Aren't you angry?" the villain asked. The hero could see how their nemesis was clenching their jaw. Their knuckles were as white as snow.

"No...I'm - God - I don't know." It was so frustrating the hero wanted to cry. Mostly, they were indeed scared. Scared of being in this city, scared of seeing the superhero, scared of going outside.

But anger? The hero doubted they had any strength left for that emotion.

"I just want all of this to be over," the hero said. "I can't fight anymore. But my sidekick..."

Suddenly, the villain stood up from their chair and walked up to the hero.

"Alright," they said gently. "Let's run away together."

"What?"

The villain offered their hand and the hero took it, clearly confused. The villain helped them stand up.

"If it's too much heartbreak and if it's too much pain, we should start over. We can leave the city. We can leave the country. If you want to fight back, I'll fight beside you. It is your decision."

"Why are you...?" The villain avoided their gaze. Instead, they stared at the hero's hand they were still holding.

"Let's clean you up," the villain said. The hero's own blood was still sticking to their fingers. They hadn't noticed. "And think about my offer."

[mustainegf]

hi elena!

could you do a james angst where the reader gets into a fight with him during the tour and goes out to get some air and gets hurt really bad and james doesn’t realize until he notices she’s been gone for like 30 minutes and then he freaks out and takes care of her/helps her.

thank you babes i hope all is well

𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒 & 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐒 ¹⁹⁸⁸

The tour was full bore ahead, and we were living somewhere between exhausted and exhilarated. But this continuous moving, this endless stream of cities and faces, wears down even the strongest of people.

James and I had been together long enough that I knew the ups and downs of touring better than many. But tonight, those late nights, the missed calls, the exhaustion that makes everything feel ten times worse.

We were back in the hotel, everyone else in the band spirited off to their own rooms, no doubt winding down from the show. I perched on the edge of the bed, trying to read a book, but the words swam in front of my eyes. Behind me, I could feel James's pacing, his energy crackling in the small space.

"Can you just sit for a minute?" I tried to keep my voice calm, but I could hear myself getting agitated. "You're making me nervous."

He stopped, but he didn't sit. "I can't sit down. I'm too wired from the gig."

I exhaled heavily and closed the book, setting it beside me. "I know, but you're driving me crazy."

He finally sat, but the annoyance was still there, radiating off his tan skin. "What's your problem tonight?"

His voice was razor sharp, and he immediately got me on my heels. "I don't have a problem, James. I'm just tired. We've been on the road for weeks, and I'm tired. You're so… restless."

"You think I'm not tired, too?" he spat back, his eyes narrowing. "You think it's easy for me? Every night, putting everything I have into those fuckin' shows, And then I come back here, and all you do is complain."

His words bit, sharp as a slap in the face. "I'm not complaining. I am trying to talk to you. It's like, lately, you're just not even hearing anymore."

"I'm here, aren't I?" he barked. "What more do you want out of me?

I felt my frustration welling up, ready to spill out of me. "I want you here with me, emotionally, not just a warm body."

"I'm doin' all that I can!" he bellowed, his voice rising. "What do you want me to do? Quit the band? Stop touring? This is my life, and if you can't handle it, maybe you shouldn't be here!"

The words lay on the carpeted floor between us in the open air, heavy, painful. My eyes stung with tears, but I dug my heels in. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he'd hurt me.

"I'm going for a walk," I said. My voice was shaking. "Maybe I won't come back."

I didn't give him time to reply. I took my jacket, opened the door, and just walked out of the room. At the end, I slammed the door behind me.

I needed some fresh air, an escape from the suffocation. When I finally stepped outside, the night was nippy compared to the warmth inside the hotel. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my pants and started walking, really not caring where I might end up.

The streets were very quiet, almost eerily so. It was late, and the city was in that strange no man's land time of night when most people were asleep but the night itself still lived. I walked aimlessly, my thoughts replaying the argument again and again with every single word cutting a little deeper than the last.

How had we come to this? I was scared not just about losing him but about losing myself in the process.

I wasn't watching where I was going. The streetlights were spaced far enough apart that their long shadows reached out into the distance. I was so lost in my head that I didn't even notice the uneven pavement beneath my feet until it was too late.

One minute I was walking along just fine, and then my foot came down on a raised spike of concrete. I stumbled forward, trying to catch myself, but my ankle twisted, sending a sharp pain up the leg. I hit hard on the ground, my hands scraping against the rough surface as I tried to break my fall.

I just lay there for a moment, the shock of the pain making it hard to think. My ankle throbbed, and I could feel the sting of the scrape on my palms. I tried to push myself up, but another shoot of pain came with the giving of my ankle.

I bit back a curse, and frustration welled up in tears in my eyes. Sitting there on the cold pavement, hurt and all alone, I felt so pathetic. It finally settled in, I'd stormed out of the hotel without a single thought for the consequences, and now I was stuck, hurt, and not able to get back on my own.

I pulled myself up to a seated position, cradling my ankle in my hands. It wasn't broken, at least, I didn't think it was, but it hurt like hell. I glanced around, realizing how far I had wandered off. The hotel was out of sight, and the street was deserted, in a city that was unknown to me.

I cursed under my breath, rubbing at the tears that had started to fall. I needed to get back, but I didn't know how. My ankle throbbed, and I could hardly put any weight on it. My hands and ankle were bleeding badly, with visible blood on the pavement, even in the dark of night. The thought of limping all the way back to the hotel was scary, but what choice did I have?

Just as I was about to have another go at standing, I heard my name being called. First, I thought it was my imagination, a trick of my tired brain. Then I heard it again, this time more closely, panicked.

"Where are you? Baby?!"

It was James.

"James!" I called out again, my voice breaking.

A few seconds later, I saw him rounding the corner, his eyes wide. Seeing me sitting on the ground made his expression turn from fear to relief in the beat of a heart. He rushed over to me, dropping down to his knees beside me.

"What happened, baby?" he asked as his hands hovered over me, unsure where to touch. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied, brushing it off, but the wince that followed my words gave me away. "I just tripped. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" he echoed. "You're hurt, You're bleeding, Why didn't you come back?"

His words were guilty, and I could feel his torment, see it in his pretty blue eyes. He was blaming himself, and my heart cracked. "I was mad," I said, voice small. "I just needed some air, and I wasn't paying attention. It's my fault."

He shook his head again, and I felt his hands finally come to rest on my arms. "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have said those things. I was a dick, and I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it. You're my girl, and I don't want to lose you."

"You don't have to apologize. We were both upset. I shouldn't have stormed out like that."

He let out a shaky breath, his hands moving to cup my face. "I was so scared when I realized you were gone. I've never been that scared in my life. I thought... I thought you popped on a plane to leave, that I'd lost you."

I reached up, placing my hands over his, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. "I'm right here," I whispered. "I'm not going anywhere."

He leaned closer, his forehead touching mine, our breath intermingling. "I can't lose you," he said, his voice shaking. "You're everything to me... and I need to work on my anger."

My heart ached at the raw emotion in his voice, he was facing the issue, an that's what meant the world to me. "It's alright, Jamie," I promised firmly. "I'm not going anywhere, James.

He pulled back a little. "I love you," he said, and the words sort of tumbled out of him, like a confession. "I love you so goddamn much, and I'm sorry I haven't been showing it."

His words sent a rush of warmth through me, melting away the last of my tension that had ratcheted up between us. "I love you too."

James gave a sweet nod before planting a kiss on my forehead. "Alright, lets get you up." He slipped his arm around my waist, supporting me as I tried to stand. The moment I put weight on my ankle, pain shot through me, and I couldn't help the small cry that escaped my lips.

"Take it easy," he murmured, voice gentle but firm. "Lean on me. We'll take it real slow."

I nodded, my teeth biting down as I held onto him. With his aid, I was able to stand up, though I couldn't put much weight on my injured ankle. James didn't crush me with his pace, he matched mine.

As we set out to walk back to the hotel, it seemed that I had come a long way from the hotel. But not a word of complaint came from James. He just kept his attention focused on me, his arm strong and firm about my waist.

Once we finally arrived back in our hotel room, after an hour of limping down the sidewalk and into the hotel, James helped me settle into bed, and even got ice for my ankle.

"Breathe, try not to move your foot," James cooed, flicking the lamp of and snuggling to me. With my injured state, James insisted I stay on my back. The roles were reversed as he nestles to my side, his head resting on my shoulder.

"I'll never let go again." James whispered, kissing my shoulder.

[beetlejuicyy]

Corruption (A Blessing for a Curse User) | Geto Suguru x Reader

Summary: Geto Suguru is your last hope when you start seeing curses. But his reason for taking you in is more perverted than he lets you see. Set sometime during those ten years before jjk0

Warnings: manipulation, smut with plot, overstimulation, oral (f! receiving)

Word count: 5,834

Read on AO3

Author's note: i couldn't stop thinking that geto would have canonically used pussy therapy to cope so i had to come up with a plot for it

Masterlist

Your steps halted after reaching the top of the stairs. So many times you wanted to come to the temple, ask for help, thinking, knowing that you had nowhere else to turn to. But you always hesitated, anxiety and shame taking over your mind. But fear prevailed, at last. You went to therapists, they told you it was stress, unresolved childhood trauma. You've never heard of people seeing monsters at lunch time because they had a narcissistic mother. They were everywhere. And they were looking at you, their disgusting sounds echoing in your ears even after running away. You haven't had a good night's sleep in a couple of months. The only rest you had was always in the presence of someone else, scared that the monsters might come for you. What were they? What did they want from you?

You had reached your limit last night. You went out with some friends, thinking a large company would help. But it was worse. So many, so different, so disgusting. Those monsters were everywhere, on people's shoulders, hiding behind the corner of a building, on the counter at the grocery store. You ran home, away from the crowded neighbourhood, took a cold shower and decided you couldn't delay it anymore. Otherwise you would go completely insane.

You had to see Geto Suguru.

It was right before sunrise, when the darkness of the night was melting into brighter shades of blue, the fresh air of morning filling your lungs, encouraging you to move forward.  You doubted anyone was there so early in the morning. You were determined to wait, in any case. You wrapped your fingers around the cold golden surface of the handle, hitting it lightly against the tall door. Behind, the tip of the sun was slowly creeping up, engulfing the world in a warm orange light.

"Good morning, miss early bird." You heard a gleeful voice.

Turning back, you noticed a tall, long haired man dressed in the traditional monk attire. His lips were curled up in a smile, although it lacked any warmth.

"I-I'm sorry to bother." You quickly apologized, trying to control your stuttering voice. "I-I know it's early but... uhm I am here for... I have a problem... I mean I want to talk to-" Maybe the sleepless nights were taking their toll on your concentration.

"I am Geto Suguru." The man said, his hands hidden away under the flowing sleeves of his kesa. "Come inside, I believe it is me you're looking for."

You nodded, following him inside. All the stories you heard from people who seeked out Geto's help were similar. He was kind and jovial, with a well developed, and borderline offensive, sense of humour for a monk. He helped everyone. But there was something off about him, you heard that often. Contrary to his gentle smile, people felt in danger in his presence, some describing it as a sensation of imminent death. You were feeling all of those things right now, as you walked one step behind him. Geto looked like he was coming from somewhere, not that he had just woken up to open the temple. You walked into an empty room, the only noticeable decoration being the three scrolls hanging on the wall.

Death to the Fool

Punishment to the Weak

Love to the Strong

Your steps froze in the middle of the room while Geto walked over, sitting down on the floor with the scrolls framing his head as he leaned his head to rest on his palm. The word weak blinded you for a moment and you couldn't concentrate on anything else but the thought that you were indeed weak. A fool? You weren't quite sure. Strong? Clearly not. You fitted perfectly into the weak category. You wondered if these were the principles of the man in front of you, a drop of sweat falling along your neck. You've never heard of these words used for any other temple. But you weren't the religious type anyway.

"Miss early bird?" You heard Geto's voice get louder and you realized you must have not heard him calling you before. You blinked, confused, introducing yourself.

"I think I'm going crazy." was the first thing you blurted out after your name. You didn't have the time to prepare a speech or rehearse anything. You let out whatever you felt first and Geto laughed, a mocking but harmless laugh that you couldn't blame. "I started seeing these weird monsters. Everywhere. Next to people. On the street. Some are even talking to me." Geto's attitude changed, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I don't know how to get rid of them. Nobody else sees them. I don't even know if they are real."

"When did you start seeing these monsters?" He asked, his eyes paying more attention to your form now. It was faint, almost unnoticeable, but he could sense your cursed energy.

"A few months ago. Around the time I moved to the city. I'm from a small mountain village." You looked at Geto, your only hope, as he pondered on your fate. His silence made you more nervous with every passing second. More desperate. You didn't think you could bear to walk out on your own and see those monsters again. You would rather die.

Death to the Fool

Were you a fool?

"I want to be strong!" You yelled out as tears filled your eyes. "Please, please, please I don't ever want to see those things ever again!" You begged, falling on your knees. You were definitely weak. You sobbed in silence, not even noticing when Geto sat up and walked over to you. Your break down helped him make a decision it seemed. He crouched down in front of you, pulling your hands away from your face with his slender fingers.

"Miss early bird." He said as he wiped your tears away. You wanted to correct him, remind him that you had introduced yourself already, but his soft voice left you speechless. A softness, different from the previously dissimulated one, coated his words like a sweet ointment on your open wounds. "Do you know where these monsters come from?" You looked at him, eyes empty and confused, shaking your head. "They come from filthy monkeys." You frowned. Was he making fun of your suffering? "If you get rid of the cause, the effect would naturally disappear, don't you think?"

"Get rid of monkeys?" You asked, aware of the fact that, if he really was making fun of you, it was already unavoidable.

"A figure of speech." He threw his hands in the air, in a helpless gesture. "The things you're seeing are curses, miss early bird. And they are born out of humans that cannot control cursed energy." You would have snapped for sure at his reluctance to refer to you by name if his following words didn't make your eyes open wide in shock, unable to register the information you just received.

"So... I'm not going crazy?" You whispered, almost scared to say it out loud.

"You said you don't want to see curses again." His voice changed to a serious tone by the time your tears ran dry. "The only solution is getting rid of their cause. Monkeys." He spat out the last word with such spite that it had you jolt back in surprise.

"But I'm a human too..." You mumbled, finding this small error of logic in his story fatal.

"No, no." He waved a long, slim finger in front of your face like a toddler. "You have cursed energy. I can help you control it."

He sat up, gathering the the folds of his traditional robe. You looked up at him, one of his arms extended towards you, his palm just above your head.

"Do you want to help me kill all the monkeys, miss early bird?"

*

Out of all the people in Geto's inner circle, you clearly stood out as the weakest, dumbest and most useless. At least this is how you felt. His found family was, if you had to pick one word, peculiar. But even more peculiar than that was your very presence amongst them. You didn't have any basics, didn't even know this world existed until you begged Geto for help. He must run out of patience at some point, you thought. But everyday he found even the smallest moments to give you some insight or reevaluate your progress so far.

Geto Suguru was a proud man. After all, he was leading a cult. Your desperation hit a very sensitive spot inside him that he wasn't even aware existed. Something about your crying face, so pretty despite your agony, gave him the satisfaction of being your saviour. The feeling caught him by surprise as well. Usually, people begging him for help disgusted him. However, he took a lot of pleasure out of teaching you everything, starting with the most obvious things. Your eyes fixed on him, taking in his every word, so well behaved, so eager to make him proud.

It was a completely different feeling from taking care of Nanako and Mimiko. His care for them came from a genuine  concern, an honest wish to defend the people like him, wronged by the unfair world. With you, his protection and guidance came from a more perverted part of his soul. A part that he ignored for long, uninterested in trivial matters like this.

He enjoyed having all the answers for your questions. He enjoyed solving your problems, being the person you depended on. He was teaching you how to be strong, yes, but he also enjoyed knowing he would always be above you, no matter what. Something about your lack of pride, your straightforward questions, your awe in response to his knowledge and strenght, everything about you rubbed him the right way.

"Tell me again about your village, miss early bird." Three months later and he still insisted on not using your name. You were convinced he had to know it, he simply found it amusing to use this silly nickname. It didn't bother you anymore.

"It's very peaceful." You said as you poured Geto some tea. After you found out about his unpleasant technique, you made it your daily task to offer him some consolation in order to make up for the nauseating taste of curses he absorbed. "People are very close to nature, it brings a lot of peace to the soul." The tea you were preparing for him had calming properties, besides the floral mild taste. "There are no natural calamities and no thieves. People learned to take what they need from nature and share it with the community. The wi-fi signal is shitty, though." You joked and he smiled before taking a sip.

You found yourself fall for that smile. It was quite inevitable, if you really put some thought into it. He was so kind, so gentle, so generous, so patient with you. Not to mention his handsome face. Soon, you started wishing you could see more of what was hiding under his attire. You quickly learned how to distinguish between the subtle undertones of his smile. Maybe you were delusional, but you never saw him smile to other people like he smiled for you.

"Sounds like a nice place." That's what he would always say. You guessed the idea of your boring home village was some kind if utopia for him. No wonder you never saw curses before. They didn't exist there.

"Why did you leave?"  It was the first time he asked. He was usually more interested in the way the community worked, how people avoided conflicts, how secluded the place was or how many modern things were absent there.

"I had no future there." He nodded, understading your perfectly valid point.

"Would you go back?" He asked, his eyes already searching the answer in your wavering gaze.

"Only to visit." You answered. He already guessed that from the sad look on your face as you remembered about your home.

"Make sure you take me too some time."

*

You gradually grew closer to everyone else. The dedication of Geto's followers was quite impressive and it only made you want to compete even more fervently for his favours. You quickly realized that the basic martial arts you learned as a kid held more importance than you initially thought. Sometimes Geto would challenge you, only to have you immobilized humiliatingly fast. But thirty seconds turned to one full minute, then two, then five. The more you trained your body, the longer you were able to face him. And the longer you lasted, the more satisfying became the moment when he had both your wrists behind your back in a tight grip, his other hand in your hair while his weight pressed your body firmly on the ground. You've never noticed him paying time and energy with anyone's training, let alone enjoy defeating them as much.

"Gotcha, miss early bird." He would whisper in your ear and you would unsuccessfully try to resist, to break free of his grip, which only made him laugh and hold you tighter. "You'd be dead by now."

When he would finally move away, you would find yourself wishing he remained longer, althought the strain in your shoulders and the pressure of his weight were painful.

"Ten minutes, that's a new record." Geto would praise you when checking the timer. You thought your heart was about to explode out of your chest when he slipped the robe off his shoulders, groaning in the scorching sun of noon. "You've got me sweating, good job."

You were still laying on the ground, rolled on your back, watching his tall figure tower over you. The sun was behind him, like a halo around his head crowned with messy raven hair that fell down to his waist. You couldn't see his face clearly, the light behind him too strong, blinding you. But what you could see was the shape of his body, the round and sharp turns that shaped the contour of his silhouette. His broad shoulders, his fit arms, his slim waist and muscular abdomen right above the band of his baloon pants. In that moment, he looked otherwordly to you. A light in your brain was switched on and you completely understood why people gathered around him, why they pledged allegiance to his cause, why he was worthy of worship. You were left speechless, on the ground, at his feet. He had all the rights to step over you, punish you. Compared to him, you would always be weak, insignificant.

Geto noticed your awe. It was only the two of you, no one else in sight. He pretended not to, but the corner of his mouth was curled in a patronizing grin. All the light of day was reflected on your body, sweaty and gasping for air after only ten minutes of facing him. How pathetic. And yet, your weakness didn't trigger repugnance or malice. Your helpless attempts to fight back, fully aware that it was futile, delighted him. Especially now, when your eyes sparkled  in the sun, pupils dilated in veneration, your presence was so unbearably arousing to the point that all the blood seemed to flow into his cock.

"I looked into your fairy tale village." Geto finally said. You would have never stood up from the ground, willing to witness his greatness for the rest of your life. "There's a very high chance you have inherited a special cursed technique." You blinked several times, like trying to get rid of a haze covering your eyes. You sat up, your previously high ponytail only a tangled mess now.

"I don't understand." How could you be so shamelessly blunt? If he were in your shoes, Geto would be embarrassed to admit his lack of knowledge so easily. But in front of him, you bluntly and carelessly showed your most innocent and pure self, like a clueless lamb unaware of the coming slaughter.

"Remote villages are common but yours seemes to have the best of both worlds. No greed, no crime, no hatred yet it's fairly modern and economically thriving."

As the words left his lips he realized that maybe this was the very reason you trusted him so easily, laid all your flaws in front of him so he could pick and choose which way to build you up. You hardly ever went through hardships in life. You learned to trust the people around you. Consequently, seeing curses for the first time was probably the worst thing that had happened to you. You were so untained by the unfair world. So untouched. So easily breakable. You were a blank canvas of innocence with plently of space for him to paint any sinful whim residing in his soul.

"Turns out you're a descendant of an old clan of sorcerers who abandoned the old ways of jujutsu a few hundred years ago. Most were exterminated, the surviving never found."

You parted your lips in an attempt to protest but not sound came out of your mouth. Insead, an astonished expression fell over your face, as you watched Geto sit back down on the ground, a couple of steps away from you.

"You've never seen curses because jujutsu sorcerers don't produce curses. And your tiny mountain village was made up of exclusively descendants of this clan. It may be dormant, but your legacy is still there."

Geto's dark eyes shimmered with a violet shade in the sun, contrasting with his long dark locks that fell over his shoulders, absorbing all the light.

"Isn't it... the world you want to create?" You asked unsure, feeling like he was a teacher testing you. One wrong answer and you could fail the class.

"A scaled-down version, yes." He agreed.

Your eyes uncontrollably fell down his body, watching how his chest softly rose and fell as he breathed, how toned his arms were, how inviting his posture was. You felt a primal urge to crawl up to him, touch him, provoke him. And you did. Gathering your remaining strength, you closed the distance between your bodies. He stood there, unmoved, his eyes looking down at your smaller body, like a hunter watching his prey. Except that his prey was walking right into his jaws, so close. Now, the words death to the fool made perfect sense. A faint breeze of air brushed over both of you, so weak that only the ends of his hair fluttered in the air, grazing against your skin.

"Geto-sama." You said, closer to a whisper, afraid that the wind might carry your words for others to hear. "I believe I was born to serve you."

*

The stronger you became, the closer you got to Geto. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Needless to say, the toll his cursed technique was taking on his body and, more importantly, on his mind was painful to witness. There were times when he would keep the distance, isolating himself so his vulnerable side would remain unknown. A couple of days later he would come back to his usual self, as if nothing happened. Everyone was used to this rare occurence, respecting his space and his choices. After all, who were they to question master Geto's actions? But it always bothered you.

Whenever the sickening taste of curses would become overwhelming and his entire soul would feel like an abandoned landfill, Geto would try to find comfort and pleasure in distractions that could help him cope, keep him one step away from the edge until he would rebuild his strength again. Soon enough, such a distraction was the thought of you, or, to be more specific, the thought of things he would do to you. The idea of corrupting those innocent, honest eyes which trusted him too much. He was almost sure you've never been with a man before, and this detail only made the thought of tainting you with his touch even more pleasing. Geto's soul was damned to be the abyss that trapped curses while yours was so empty, so peaceful, so quiet. Perhaps this was the only thin string of common sense that held him back from unleashing all his urges upon you. If he did bring ruin to your serenity, what was left for him to cling to? Everything you knew about the world, about jujutsu, it was all throgh his lens. Your convictions, your ideals, your motivation they were all his. Your loyalty to him was unbreakable, but wasn't it really his merit? If he did, after all, choose to ravage the holy garden and taste the fruit, wouldn't it also destroy the unsullied image of him in your eyes?

These thoughts were harder to resist whenever you cluelessly insisted on being next to Geto even when he pushed you away. You were knocking at his locked door, telling him you prepared some tea.

The tea is fucking useless.

The real medicine for his nerves, for his fatigue, for his dark thoughts was you. Only you. He would drink all the tea in the world just to have you sitting next to him, talking about nothing in particular. Geto used to think that your relationship dynamic is unchangeable. He was playing god, building the world around you, while you cluelessly looked up to him, not guessing even a fraction of his thoughts or intentions. He was superior in every sense. Then why did he feel so vulnerable when you knocked on his door, spoke his name so respectfully? Why was it so hard for him to control himself, send you away like all the times before?

Maybe this was what addiction felt like. Or  was that tea really poisonous? Alone in his dark room, only a dim light creeping in from outside, Geto realized that maybe the dynamic you had changed. He changed. You gave him small bites of your presence, quick sips of your warmth every day until he found himself addicted. How could he send you away when you were the last remedy he could use to cope?

"Geto-sama?" You asked again when no sound came from inside his room.

"Come in." His voice was languid, reverberating in your brain like a lustful invitation. No, he was feeling sick. You were too caught up in your own desires while he was having a hard time.

His room was dark, unlike the brightly lighted hallway. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the change, but the first thing you noticed was the mass of long hair shining in the dim light. It was so captivating how in the bright light of the sun it was a dark shade absorbing everything, while in the soft night light it was almost glimmering, so luscious and silky.

"I don't feel like drinking tea tonight." His voice filled the room, soft and vulnerable, and it almost made you think he was hurt. So you put down the tray on the floor, your eyes still unable to spot the table exactly, and hurried to his side, to the light coming in through the window.

"Are you alright, Geto-sama?" You asked, voice full of worry, as you placed a hand flat on his forehead. His hair was beautifully unkempt and you pushed some strands away to see his face better. But as soon as he raised his eyes to look at you a shiver ran down your spine and you took your hand away swiftly.

He successfully tricked you. Contrary to his frail voice and his lethargic posture on the bed, his eyes were sharp, full of energy and piercing right through you. You felt threatened, although it was the same Geto you admired and served, the same Geto who taught you how to fight curses, how to defend yourself. But how could you defend yourself from him?

"I'm sorry if my presence is not as neat as you're used to." He said. He was still wearing the usual kesa and you wondered how much of his identity really resided in the religious facade. You wanted to see past that.

"Are you in pain?" You asked. He looked like a wounded animal, one that could still do you harm even in this state.

"Yes." He said, but nothing about the way he looked at you seemed to signal that he was in need of help. Instead, he was luring you in.

"How does it feel?" You slowly approached him again and sat down by his side. His back was resting against the wall and he watched you with a certain amused look. How foolish could you be?

"Like you felt when you first came to me." Geto answered, his eyes glued to yours. "Only that all those curses are inside me."

"Is this why you helped me?"

It was painfully ironic how, despite of how smart he thought he was, you delivered the answer so effortlessly.

"For the most part, yeah." He admitted. The rest of the reason was blatantly reflected in his eyes that were eating you alive as he spoke.

"Let me help you." You breathed out, without thinking. There was no logical reasoning in your brain. You natutally felt it in your body that you had what he wanted and you wanted to give it to him. "If I could take only a fraction of your torment away it would be worth it."

"How would you do that?" He asked, noticing how you leaned in and your hand touched his in a seemingly platonic attempt to comfort. But there was nothing platonic about the way you looked at him.

"Show me how curses taste." You breathed out.

For a moment, Geto was taken by surprise by your bluntness. What if you really could feel the sickening taste of curses on his lips? Would it make you turn back in disgust? Would it shatter the perfect image he built for himself inside your mind?

You didn't give him any more time to think. You simply stood up in front of him and pulled at the hems of your shirt, taking it off. Geto's eyes followed your every move in the dark, noticing the round contour of your breasts and the white lace of your bra. All his focus, his control, was gone. He was looking at you wide eyed, his pupils devouring every inch of your body as your fingers unclasped the bra in the front. He felt his mouth water, a primal hunger sparking alive inside his soul when your tits bounced free as you discarded the bra on the floor. You were offering yourself to him like a tribute, like a sacrifice to the gods. His train of thought was broken off, all the confusion and tumult in his mind completely turned off by the feeling of your lips on top of his. For a moment he remained frozen, the shadow of doubt still lingering, waiting for you to break away in repulsion. But you didn't. Instead, you placed your hand on his cheek, pressing your body closer to his. It was the last hint he needed.

Geto's hungry lips moved along with yours, easily taking control. You moaned in discomfort when his body shifted, pressing you down on the bed in an uncomfortable position, his lips never breaking off from yours. The feeling of his weight on top of you, his hair falling over his shoulders, brushing against your skin felt oddly familiar and, while you struggled to find a more comfortable position under him, you realized it felt just like the times you would fight. It was the same tension, the same blood rushing in your veins in excitement, the same anticipation for what would come next. Except that now you were taking it one step further.

To Geto, right now, you had only one purpose. His pleasure. Altough his hands touched you greedily, your flesh kneaded under his palms so roughly yet so satisfying, and his mouth moved to your neck to suck and bite every spot he found, earning soft moans of pleasure from you, it was all for himself. He was drunk on the taste of you. So desperate to forget everything else, eager to taste only you on his lips, forever. Your flesh was so soft, so sweet, so addicting. You were soaking wet already by the time his tongue ran circles around your sensitive nipple, rubbing your thighs together under your skirt. Both your hands were buried in his hair, pushing it away from his face while he couldn't be bothered with anything else but your flesh. You could also feel it, how selfish, how insatiable he was. Your pleasure was only a fortunate side effect, a convenient occurance. Between soft whimpers and muffled sounds of sucking and licking on your skin, you realized that he didn't care. His chaotic movements, his bites that were getting deeper and deeper everytime he sank his teeth into the soft tissue of your breast, his uncontrollable groans as he devoured you, it was all for himself. You were no different than the curses he was swallowing for later use. He would eat you alive if he could.

By the time he had your skirt pulled up, your panties discarded somewhere in the dark, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of your thigh, it was too late. If there was a chance you could stop him before, check on him, try to get him to slow down a little, when his tongue first touched your wet and sensitive core it was already too late.

You gasped for air, your grip on his hair tightening as his tongue ran between your folds, running circles over your throbbing clit. He was eating you out with an aching thirst, sloppy and loudly, the only thing covering the dirty wet sounds of his tongue drenched in your juices being your own moans, significantly louder than before. He had your legs over his shoulders, his arms keeping your legs spread apart while his face was burried between them. He had you arching your back, dark strands of his hair falling from between your trembling fingers as his tongue dived inside you, his nose nuzzling up against your clit.

Your taste, your smell, your everything was numbing all his other senses, his mind blank, asleep, thoughtless. The only thing driving him, dictating every turn of his tongue, every press of his lips was the unquenchable thirst to eat you, consume you. Something inside his blood, his bones, his soul dictated that the pitch black abyss where he kept all the curses he ever swallowed could be obliterated by you.

"So sweet for me."

It didn't take much before his tongue got you close to the edge, your orgasm only a few touches away as your toes curled and your muscles tightened, although his arms kept your legs pushed apart. He didn't care at all if anyone heard your filthy moans or the sound of his name echoing from inside his room. You were loud enough, even louder than ever as you came, the peak of pleasure washing over you.

But soon, pleasure turned to pain as Geto kept the same hungry rhythm, continuing to eat you out with the same determination like he didn't even notice your orgasm.

"So fucking sweet."

He couldn't have missed it, his name reverberating in the silent room like a fervent prayer, your thighs tightening under his touch, your hands pulling at his hair. He didn't care. He was doing it for himself, eating you out for his own pleasure. Moreover, his effort only intesified as you fought to push him away. The more you struggled to get his face away from your overstimulated pussy, the faster his tongue moved. You cried out his name again, this time in pain, begging him to stop. You tried pushing your legs together, fighting to break free. Your hands tried pushing his head away. The back of your heels hit his back, your legs trying to force him away. You begged, implored him to stop as tears rolled down your face. But he had your hips tightly pressed on the mattress, arms forcing your thighs apart. Once again, you felt exactly like the the times he would train you. So easily defeated. So helpless.

"Ge-geto... sa-ah-ma." You begged between cries, your salty tears falling uncontrollably like the first day when you came to him. "No more... ple-please." He pushed one of your legs with his elbows, his palm pressing firmly on your lower belly, forcing your convulsions to stop.

"Shut up or I'll have you chained up." He found the time to growl, even the feeling of his breath against your painfully overstimulated clit making you cry out.

His warning meant nothing compared to your discomfort, but your second orgasm started building up shortly. Your struggle died down and your hands were pulling him closer again, nails digging into his shoulders. A wet pool of your fluids and his saliva mixed together was dripping off your skin on the sheets as your body shook again, more violently than the previous time. He seemed to have had enough, at least for the moment, because he let you go, your legs desperately pressed together as you rolled on your side, whole body trembling, heavy breathing, every cell of your body exploding with raw pleasure.

You didn't know for how much time you simply laid there, your mind hazy from the overstimulation, your body exhausted from both pleasure and pain. It could have been five minutes or as much as the whole night that had passed when you finally became aware of Geto's eyes fixed on your body.

But the thing that really made you snap out of your lifelessness was his voice calling out your name. Your own name, for the first time. Almost as if he learned it only after having your taste left on his lips.

"You're a blessing." Geto breathed out as the strain in his jaw was slowly creeping in. You didn't say anything in return. There was nothing to say to those intoxicated eyes. Those swollen lips still covered in your juices. His tongue ran over them, collecting the last remains of your juices. But the pain in his voice was gone. Although bewildered and curious, he seemed to have regained his energy, rediscovered a reason to live.

Your breath hitched when he leaned over you again, his lips offering soft kisses along your leg, upwards to your hips. He seemed more collected, more in control of his instincts as he put the minimal pressure on your skin with every kiss until he reached your lips again. Your hands pulled at his clothes, the desire to see him naked like he saw you taking over. He chuckled, giving in to your petty efforts.

"Please, Geto-sama." You said. "Let me satisfy your needs."

He smiled, that patronizing smile of satisfaction.

"You can try."

《previous Ascension | next》 The Hunt |True Form!Sukuna x Reader Sukuna x Reader

[steddieas-shegoes]

uh. what?

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is healing wounds'

rated m | 1,782 words | cw: injury recovery, mild blood, recreational drug use | tags: post s4, hurt/comfort, getting together, fade to black

💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

The stitches pulled and he couldn't get comfortable. He almost wished Robin hadn't made him get checked over, but anything that required this many stitches probably would've killed him if he hadn't. At least that's what Nancy said when he complained to her about it.

But now, Steve couldn't sleep, and sleep was apparently very important for healing.

The alarm clock next to his bed said 2:07 am, so calling someone was out. Going somewhere was also out, unless he wanted to go to the 24 hour diner alone.

Fresh air sounded good until he realized he'd have to either go for a walk in the middle of the night alone or sit by the pool alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

His phone started to ring just when he was considering taking a shower out of boredom.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve."

"So formal for two in the morning, Stevie," Eddie's laugh rang through the line and Steve couldn't help smiling. Something about Eddie's energy was contagious, a beacon of light when all he had was the darkness of his room.

"Didn't know if it was an international business partner for my parents. Happens sometimes when they forget time zones." Steve moved to the edge of his bed so the cord didn't have to stretch as far. "What are you doing up?"

"Had a dream about being eaten alive again. This time they managed to eat both of my nipples." Eddie scoffed. "Isn't one enough?"

Steve chuckled. "And you can't go back to sleep because you're scared they'll come take your other nipple?"

"It's a genuine concern, Steve! I have big dreams of piercing this thing and if they take it from me, what do I have left?"

"I think you'd probably just find something else to pierce," Steve shook thoughts of what that might be out of his head before they could take over. "So you can't sleep. You thought you'd call and wake me up to suffer with you?"

Eddie was silent for a moment before responding. "Did I wake you up?"

"No," Steve said quickly, not wanting Eddie to feel bad. "I was awake."

"Nightmare?"

"No, stitches are bothering me."

"You wanna come over? I found my hidden stash. Might help with the stitches," Eddie offered.

Steve probably shouldn't. He was on some pain meds already and if he got too fucked up, he'd probably cry. That's what happened last time he had some of whatever Eddie was selling.

"I'll come over, but probably shouldn't have anything. Robin would kill me if I end up in the hospital," Steve gave a half-truth.

"Yeah, she's terrifying. I'll leave the door unlocked."

Before Steve could tell him that was a bad idea, he hung up.

********

When Steve got to Eddie's, he let out the breath he'd been holding the entire drive. Eddie was sitting on the porch, alone, his guitar by his side.

Maybe he'd been playing already, or maybe he planned to play to help distract Steve from the way his skin felt like it was too much.

He got out of the car and waved when Eddie looked over at him with a smile.

"Didn't think you'd get here so quick," Eddie didn't bother standing up, Steve just knew to go sit by him.

But the steps on the Munson's porch were rickety at best, "temporary" according to the government officials who had stuck them here because they didn't think it was worth putting them in a home across town, and Steve's eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the dull glow of the light by the front door. He missed the top step and immediately fell, barely catching himself on the wood of the porch.

Eddie was helping him up immediately, doing his best not to make his own injuries worse.

"Shit, you okay? Wayne tried fixing it, but it just keeps getting loose."

Steve felt a stinging pain on his side, and when his hand grazed over the worst of his bites, he felt something warm and wet on his fingers.

"Shit," without looking, he knew he'd torn his stitches. "Eddie, I need a towel or something."

"Shit, that's a lot of blood. That's a lot of blood. It shouldn't be that much, right? Like even tearing your stitches, it shouldn't be-"

"Eddie." Steve poked his arm, stayed as calm as he could. He bled easy, so sometimes even small things looked worse than they were. "Towel."

"Right, yeah. Should you come with me?" Eddie shook his head. "I mean can you move? Should you stay here?"

"I'll sit here until I have a towel. Don't wanna get blood on the carpet."

"Got it."

Eddie still seemed unsure about leaving him, but must have noticed how much blood was soaking through Steve's shirt and rushed inside. He was back in less than a minute, a black towel in his hand.

"It's clean. It's the one I usually use for my hair, but I didn't get to fold it from the dryer yet. Um, just put pressure on it."

Steve knew what to do, was used to putting pressure on wounds, but appreciated Eddie trying to triage it anyway.

"You got a needle and thread, right?" Steve asked once he took his shirt off and put pressure on the bite. It was already bleeding much less, a positive sign that maybe it wouldn't be too bad.

"I mean, I do. I don't have medical tools that have been sanitized properly."

"You have water to boil and vodka?"

"Steve. I'm not fucking performing a medical procedure on your stomach," Eddie shook his head. "Do you have a death wish or something?"

"I trust you."

The words hung heavy between them, despite the fact it wasn't exactly news to either of them. They'd been through it all together, why wouldn't he trust him?

"Okay, let's get inside and I'll get everything ready."

Getting inside was easier said than done. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the pain had really started to set in and every breath felt like knives stabbing into him.

"Deep breath, Stevie," Eddie said as he sat him down on the couch and helped him lay back. "I'll get you something for the pain."

"Something" was an edible, and Eddie seemed hesitant to give it to him, but all reservations Steve previously had went out the window as he felt his hands shaking from the pain.

Eddie prepared everything while the edible kicked in, checking in with Steve every few minutes to make sure he hadn't passed out or started bleeding again.

When the room started to feel blurry and his head felt light, Steve smiled over at Eddie, who looked nervous.

"Ready for your magic hands," Steve wiggled his brows.

Eddie made a strangled sound before leaning over the wound and wiping some of the blood away gently so he could see where to stitch him back up.

He worked as quickly as possible, humming softly to distract himself and Steve from what was happening.

Steve was high.

He was high and he was feeling good despite the needle in his skin.

He drifted for a bit, couldn't be sure how long, but eventually, Eddie was touching his cheek and making him open his eyes.

"Think you should stand up so I can wrap a bandage on it. Then you can try to shower off some of the blood if you want. Wayne got one of those removable showerheads. Feels fancy," Eddie said as he moved the hair off of Steve's face.

"Help?" Steve managed to ask.

"Yeah, I can help you with the wrap and start the shower for you," Eddie nodded.

"In the shower?" Steve asked.

Eddie paused. "I can keep us dressed?"

"But." Steve huffed. "Blood."

Eddie couldn't help but laugh at his confusion, Steve's lips pouting out and his eyes squinting. "Okay, okay. If you're okay with it, I'm okay with it. You're high as shit, man."

"I'm standing right on the ground," Steve waved his arms around him. "Or is the ground standing on me but the other way?"

"God, this is the best. Okay, let's go."

"Wait!" Steve grabbed Eddie's arms. "You should know something."

Eddie raised his brows in question. "Go on."

"I'm very in love with you. And also kinda hard."

Eddie blinked, not processing. Now he felt high.

"Uh. What?"

"I have an erection." Steve made a disgusted face. "Hate that word. Sounds so middle school sex ed."

"It is." Eddie shook his head. "I guess I meant more like, how and why and what the hell do you mean by it."

Steve giggled. "I said you had magic hands and I was right."

"Dude, I was literally giving you stitches. I am failing to see why that would make you hard."

"It's cuz you're so gentle and your tongue sticks out when you're trying to focus. And also I started thinking about what you'd do if I couldn't move," Steve sighed dreamily. "You have handcuffs."

"Okay. Let's pause." Eddie let out a small hysterical laugh. "You want me to help you in the shower because you love me? Do you even need help?"

"Probably. But I also want help. And also you're a helper for me."

"What does that even mean? Where's Robin when you need her to decode what the hell you're talking about?"

"You're a helper for me! Because you help me be better about asking for help! And then you help!"

"Okay, that's. Good. I'm still not sure what's happening."

"You're gonna help me shower. I'm gonna try very hard not to come. We sleep?" Steve looked around Eddie out the window, like he was checking if it was still night time. "And then in the morning I wake up and get yelled at by Robin."

"Why would she-"

"The stitches. And the telling you I love you thing. She's gonna be real mad about that."

"Why?" Eddie felt like he was losing it. What was even happening anymore? How had he completely lost control of the night?

"She wanted to help me do a speech thing."

This was just getting more wild.

Steve needed a shower, and he needed sleep. Eddie needed a minute to gather his own thoughts.

"Shower. Sleep. Talk in the morning." Eddie raised his hand to cup Steve's neck. "Robin murders you after we talk."

"Deal." Steve's face sank, but he quickly perked back up. "But shower?"

"Yes, shower. Go, horndog."

Steve laughed as he half-limped to the bathroom, clearly feeling some pain even with the drugs in his system. Eddie followed and resisted touching Steve as much as possible.

Which ended up being about two minutes.

[fanfics-for-you]

what's in a name? || Patrick Verona (TTIHAY) x gn!reader (Modern!College!AU)

AVAILABLE ON AO3 (SOON)

Inspiration: ✨️Patrick Verona✨️

Summary: Patrick Verona is apparently the most intimidating guy on campus. You just want to get by, pass your classes, and get to your actual dreams. When you casually approach him one day and decidedly are not scared of him, Patrick has some questions.

TWs: light language, use of Y/N (only like twice), second person POV (you, yours).

[[A/N: This is basically under the concept that you approach Patrick first, and aren't really as afraid of him as anybody else. He's intrigued. Also this is a college AU, because I am in college and I think it's weird to write about high school lmao. ALSO,,, I know this is incredibly niche and a dead tag, but... I watched the movie recently and was violently possessed to write this. The parasites in me what to continue this universe, but idk. Anyway. Enjoy :)]]

You were exhausted. Totally and completely exhausted.

You'd stayed up all night for your chem quiz, and still, didn't think you did great on it. Which made your day ever so worse. So, when you went to the library, and someone was sitting in the spot you always sat in, you halfway wanted to cry and halfway wanted to rip your hair out. Normally, such a thing wouldn't be a big deal, but today it was. So, with a certainty that rivaled a lawyer in court, you stomped over to the chair.

For a moment, the guy didn't even look at you. He kept staring at his friend, a surprisingly 'metal' dressing guy who was talking avidly about something.

You cleared your throat.

That's when they both looked at you.

You were entirely focused on the one in your seat. A taller guy with built shoulders, curly hair and a sharp jaw. In normal circumstances, you'd probably think he was hot. Today was not normal circumstances.

The man raised an eyebrow.

Okay, so maybe it was a little normal circumstances, but that wasn't relevant.

"What are you doing?"

The man answered, simply -maybe a little confused, "Sitting?"

"That's my spot," you clarified, pointedly.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" the man pretended to start getting up before pausing -speaking sarcastically, "-Oh wait, I've just remembered, this is public property."

Mindlessly noting that he had an accent that you couldn't quite place, you rolled your eyes, "I sit there everyday. Just give me the spot."

"You weren't sitting here all day," he pointed out, "-or else I wouldn't be here."

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, "I was busy failing a chem test, now get up."

His eyes skimmed over your face, thoughtfully, "Do you know who I am?"

"Why-" you sighed out, frustrated, "-would I know who you are?"

Even despite the comment, he did seem familiar somehow but you weren't going to tell him that.

He furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, and didn't say anything. You felt like you were going to explode in fiery flames.

You groaned, "Oh my god. There are thousands of seats on campus, just go sit somewhere else."

"Exactly," the man countered, "-why don't you sit somewhere else?"

"Because-" you huffed out a breath, "-that's my spot."

"And why is this spot so important to you?" He shuffled slightly, moving his hands along the cracks of the seat, "-You got something good stashed in 'ere?"

"Dear god," you huffed out a breath in defeat, "-Whatever. Enjoy your seat, asshole."

And with that, you spun on your heel and pulled yourself deeper into the library. Taking a breath in, you pulled yourself into a seat not too far from the original, but you were around the corner so you wouldn't have to look at his stupid face. You soured just at the thought.

You pulled open your chem book, and read through it -trying to figure out which ones you definitely missed, that way you could get the ballpark for what your grade might be. You really needed to know, to make sure your GPA stayed in the range for your dream university.

But, in the middle of it, you heard someone plop into the chair in front of you (it was a group of chairs, like for a group of people if necessary).

Before looking up, you spoke -sharply, "Do you mind?"

"Not at all."

Your eyes shot up at that familiar accent, and you frowned.

"You got the seat," you pointed out, bitterly, "-What the hell do you want now?"

"Your name," he answered simply.

You blinked, (what?) before settling back into your seat and flipping to the next page, "Yeah, no."

The man seemed to move forward, and unwillingly your eyes flickered to him (his curls moving with the motion), "Why not?"

"I don't give my name out to strangers," you retorted -flicking your eyes down to your book, "-especially not assholes."

"Don't know if I can change who I am," he smirked, "-but, I can work on the stranger part."

You frowned, eyeing him particularly, "Seriously, what do you want?"

"I already told you," he replied, fidgeting with something in his hands (you weren't paying attention), "-I'm Patrick, by the way."

"Well," you exhaled, sharply, and ignored his name, "-you're not getting it."

"Well," he repeated with the same sort of grin, "-I'll just have to work on that too, then."

You looked up at him again and squinted at him -trying to read him somehow. All he did was grin at you, a charming kind, of course, that made crinkles on his cheeks. You ignored the flutter in your chest that it gave you and darted your eyes back down to your book.

The next day, you were in better spirits. After studying for an entirely different class, you were pretty sure you aced that test. So, you weren't as pissed, thankfully. Until you went into the library to sit between classes like you always did.

You paused in your step and frowned.

The guy (Patrick, your mind treacherously noted) was sitting by your chair, mindlessly tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair. He wasn't in your chair, thankfully, but still, he was in the one beside it. Pointedly close.

You huffed out a breath, and moved toward the chairs, "What are you doing?"

"Sitting," he repeated.

You raised an eyebrow.

He seemed to take that as a repeat of the question -before saying, confidently (too confidently), "I'm studying for a test."

"You don't seem like the studying type," you retorted, throwing yourself into the chair and pulling out your laptop -realizing it was no use to try and get him to leave.

Patrick pointed out, "You don't even know me."

"And I don't intend to," you replied with ease, flicking your eyes to meet his, "-your point?"

He grinned the same bright one from before, amused maybe. Your heart skipped a beat, so you dropped your eyes back down to your laptop. He, on the other hand, didn't seem to look away.

"What's your major?" He asked, thoughtfully.

"I won't tell you my name," you leveled, scrolling through your online schedule for homework, "-but you think I'll tell you my major?"

"Well," he reasoned, "-a name is much more identifiable, but your major," he shrugged, "-not so much."

You eyed him again for a second, before saying, "What if you just want to look up my classes and hunt me down?"

Patrick smiled again, before asking, "What is your next class?"

"Why?" You ask, pointedly, "-So you can force me into talking to you again?"

"Preferably," he replied, grinning cheekily.

You raised an eyebrow, and bit your lip to pull down a smile that begged to quirk up, "I'm not telling you that either."

"What if I just follow you when you leave?" He questioned, curiously, "-Figure it out myself?"

"And what if I-" you smiled at him -patronizingly, "-call the campus police?"

He raised both eyebrows as if to say 'touché' without saying it out loud. You bit down another smile and moved back to your computer -pulling out your planner and jotting down dates.

"Your pissiness," he suddenly spoke, "-Are you often filled with boiling hatred?"

"No," you sigh out, before shooting him another patronizing smile, "-that's special just for you."

He laughed then, and something warm zinged down to your toes (you ignored it), "Do you seriously not know me?"

"Do you know how many Patricks exist in the world?" you point out, "-No, I don't know you."

"So you do remember my name," he smirked, patting along his lap with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes but didn't say a word.

It ended up like that for the rest of the time, Patrick shooting questions now and then, and you shutting them down. His stupid smirk and low, rumbly, accented voice, you hated that he actually seemed kinda nice -all things considered.

But, as you stood up to leave, you decided on something.

"Literature," you said simply, gathering up everything into your bag.

He paused, shooting up his eyebrows, "What?"

"My next class," you answered, nonchalantly pulling your bag onto your shoulder, "-Intro to Literature."

Patrick grinned, bright and shiny, "Gen Ed?"

"Yeah," you answered, moving to put the last few things in your bag.

"Can I walk you?"

Your eyes snapped to him then, curiously -detailing the rather honest look, before answering solidly, "No."

He burst into laughter then, throwing his head back against the chair -you mindlessly watched his curls fall back with the motion and then snapped your eyes away.

"Same time tomorrow then?" He asked, still laughing a little bit (something in you twinkled).

"Nope," you exhale a breath, ignoring the disappointment that swirled into your chest, "-I'm not on campus tomorrow."

He seemed to falter for a second, "Do you live on campus?"

You raised a solid eyebrow, you really think I'd tell you that?

"Right, yeah, okay," Patrick conceded, holding up his hands in faux surrender, "-What days are you on campus?"

You paused, pressing your lips together, but something in you did it, "Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays."

He grinned a little brighter, "Are you here around the same time on Mondays?"

Something in your chest flipped, but even still, you answered, "That's what you have to figure out. Not me."

And then, you spun on your heel and walked out of the library. His laughter trailed out behind you, and if you had a small little smile on your face at the noise, that was only for you to know.

Monday came, and you woke up early and made your way to campus -the first class of the day was at the crack of dawn. You physically despised it, but so is the schedule of a college student. Plus, you still worked, so the earlier the better for your schedule -didn't mean it didn't suck though.

Sipping on your drink, you wandered back toward the cafeteria -crossing the main connecting area, where everything led to. There was a baseball game going on, not an official one by the looks of it, in the grass. Your eyes hinged on the game for a few seconds, the echoes of laughter shooting toward your ears. It looked fun, but you weren't too invested in being outside for that long. Before you could look away though, your eyes caught on a familiar frame.

Patrick.

His hair was tied back, and he was wearing a pretty bland tank top (just grey), with some typical jeans. With his hair pulled back, you could see his jaw more distinctively -the sharp lines clear from even this far away. (Not that you were looking.) The sun bore down on them but all of the players seemed to be happily distracted. And you kinda were too.

You pursed your lips, for a moment, and looked forward again after a breath, heading toward the cafeteria again confidently.

Before you could get very far, though, you heard a familiar accent.

"Hey!" He yelled, a little distant -footsteps following his voice, "-Hey!"

At first, you weren't sure if he was talking to you, so you kept moving.

"Shit, I don't know what to call you," he called out, breathless and much, much closer.

You spun on your heels with furrowed brows, and met his eyes over a few people's heads. The grin that swallowed his face whole should've been criminal, bright and twinkly and... charming.

Before you could say anything, he was by your side with heavy breaths -assumedly from playing baseball and getting over to you. Leaning over slightly, he leveled out heavy breaths. You were almost concerned enough to offer him water, but he seemed to settle himself before you could.

"Hi," he echoed, "-'Ve been looking for you all morning, what time did you get here?"

You blinked, all morning?

"I get here early, 7, and immediately go to class," you answered, a little blankly (looking for you, looking for you, looking for you).

"Oh," he paused, "-I got here at 8. There's classes at 7?"

"Obviously," you respond, because you did in fact just say it.

"Did you-" Patrick started, before pursing his lips together, "-Are you going to the library now?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "No, I'm going to the cafeteria to eat between classes. Why?"

"I'm actually quite hungry myself," he avoided the question, "-Do you mind if I tag along?"

"What about your game?" You furrowed your eyebrows even further -eyeing him curiously.

"'S just to fill time," he explained, "-It's nothing serious. They're sure to find someone to fill in for me."

You flicker your eyes along his face, trying to read him. What's your prerogative?

After a moment, you come up with nothing and instead, just turn on your heel -leading the way to the cafeteria.

"I'm taking that as a yes, then?" Patrick called out from behind you, catching up and matching your stride with ease (despite you making no move to slow down).

You decidedly don't answer him, and say something focused elsewhere -eyeing him as you walk forward, "Do you always stalk people this much?"

Patrick laughed, catching your eye with his warm brown ones (they were almost sparkly under the sun of the day), "Only the ones that blindly hate me."

You pressed your lips together in a flat line (trying not to give anything away), "I didn't say that I hated you."

His face lit up at the words (and you couldn't decide if you regretted it or not), "Well, you could've convinced me."

You roll your eyes, and keep walking forward, "Not telling you my personal information isn't... hating you."

"I'm not sure not introducing yourself is exactly anything but hatred," he argued back, fluidly.

"I just told you that I don't hate you," you point out, "-so it isn't."

"Does that mean you'll eventually tell me your name?" Patrick asked, curiously.

You turned to him, flicked your eyes over him, and then looked forward again, "Maybe on good behavior."

He burst into laughter, brown eyes set on your face, "You're quite an enigma, you know that?"

"And you're not half the mystery you portray," you fire back, naturally, with the flow of the conversation.

He grinned at that, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite label, "You know, I don't think I've met a person like you. You're fearless in like a-" he motioned with his hands, "-casual way."

"I'm not fearless," you argue, approaching the door to the cafeteria, "-I'm just confident."

"Do they not go hand-in-hand?" Patrick offers, getting to the door before you and promptly holding it open for you -unflinchingly.

Something warm stirs in your stomach at the gesture (and his woodsy scent that brushes your nose as you walk past him), but you ignore it, "You can be certain and still be afraid."

"But knowing you're right doesn't necessarily mean-" Patrick followed you in, matching your stride again, as if it's natural, "-that you're confident."

You furrow your eyebrows, genuinely intrigued, "What do you mean?"

He paused, maybe a little shocked by your attentiveness, "Plenty of people know they're right and still concede to someone else because they don't want to fight it. You-" he pointed at you, "-will fight it."

"Well," you purse your lips, avoiding his eye contact, "-maybe I'm only like this with you."

"You," Patrick paused, "-You're not this fiery ball of rage with anyone else?"

You eye him for a second, before saying flatly, "Maybe."

"All of this seething hatred and impressive indifference just for me?" He grins, the big teeth-showing kind, "-I'm touched really. Because I am special to you in some weird kinda twisted way-"

Before you can stop yourself, you let out a laugh at his words -just a quick one. Barely there.

But you could still see the delight smooth along his face, and just knew he caught it.

"How much of that have you been holding back?" He tilted his head curiously, before continuing to push it, smirking, "-Oh I bet you think I'm hilarious."

Your heart skipped a beat at the smirk, and you simply pressed your lips together and turned on your heel to the food counter. There wasn't even a second before you heard footsteps following you.

"You're not denying it, you know," he called after you, close on your tail.

You peer over the selection of food, eyeing the different items thoughtfully, "But I didn't confirm it either."

"Still not denying it," Patrick hummed, sing-songy.

"You know," you turn to him (mindlessly noting that he is very close), sharply, "-someone can have one good joke and still be unfunny."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes set on yours -challenging, "Then tell me why it came out like you were holding it back?"

You blinked at him, once and then twice, the sudden closeness sent a shock through your brain and the challenging tone of his voice nearly gave you full-body shivers. You can't find words to say, and you can nearly see it processing on Patrick's face (the way that he had made your mind melt for a moment), so you turn to the counter and point at something random for them to pick out for you.

The woman eyes the two of you suspiciously, but still diligently pulls out a to-go plate and piles the... mashed potatoes onto it.

"Oh my god," he finally says after a moment (you ignore it).

You go through a few other items, and the woman gathers them onto the plate. You pay, grab your plate-

"You like me," Patrick retorts, and you're not even looking at him but you can tell he's got a shit-eating grin.

Your brain malfunctions for a moment, but you step toward the tables and fire back (on autopilot), "I won't even tell you my name."

He's hot on your trail, following you diligently, "You're avoiding the question."

You spin to him, and reply -sharply, "You didn't ask a question."

His eyes flicker along your face, taking you in (you want to squirm but you steel yourself in place -your eyes now challenging), and then he grins so bright that you'd need sunglasses in any other scenario.

"Oh, you're really into me," he continues, low, gravelly, accented voice rumbling through your ears.

You screw up your face into something defiant, roll your eyes, and turn back to slide into a table. Patrick follows you like a lost puppy. Well, an incredibly arrogant lost puppy.

"You're still not denying it," he slides into the chair beside you and you hate the way your brain swims at the woodsy smell that brushes your nose.

"'Thought you were hungry," you say, simply (avoiding the question and decidedly not denying).

"It was very obviously a ploy," Patrick chimed back, with natural ease -tilting his head slightly and looking at you with twinkling eyes, "-They had pizza out there for all the players. I've already eaten."

Your fork froze for a millisecond (even still, you were sure he caught it), and after a moment, you pulled it to your lips. Maybe conquering both of your lack of response and the way your mind lit up at the idea of 'he just wanted to see me'.

His smile and eyes seemed to soften slightly, as he leaned his head down to catch your eye and guide it back up to your natural gaze (your heart skipped a beat). His brown eyes were soft and if you were honest, maybe a little affectionate.

"What's your name?" He finally said after a soft few moments.

And just like that, for you, the moment snapped, and you rolled your eyes -turning back to your food.

"Oh, come on," Patrick tried to catch your gaze again, "-Look, I'll tell you. Patrick Verona. That's my name-"

You bit down a smile, as he motioned to you with his hands.

"-Now, your turn, tell me yours."

You raised an eyebrow.

Patrick let out a half-laugh, before leaning forward slightly on the table -not quite a breath away, but certainly closer.

"You're so stubborn," he laughed, "-I'll beg. You want me to beg?"

You can't help but let the smile slip onto your lips then, "Why would you beg for my name?"

"Because I want it," he pointed out, still grinning "-Because I want to know you, and personally, I think it should start with a name."

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you let your fork hang there on the path to your face. You took a moment, scampered your eyes along his face (dark brown eyes so incredibly soft, curls coming down from where he put them up in individual tendrils). Your resolve was weakening, it was really and truly broken under Patrick Verona's hand.

Stupid pretty boys-

"Y/N," you said finally (quieter than intended), immediately pulling a bite to your mouth.

Patrick blinked, "What?"

"'S my name," you explain -shortly, moving a hand in front of your mouth as you chew, "-Y/N."

His eyes lit up at the words, that stupid charming grin smoothing onto his face as he repeated, softer than expected, "Y/N."

You shove down the fluster that begs to climb up your cheeks at his accented voice saying your name. It's something you'd never really thought about but now that it's said, you probably should've thought about it.

Patrick leaned back in his chair, eyes still set on you. He was still grinning, as he said simply, "Suits you."

You furrow your eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raises his hands in faux surrender, laughing to himself, "Jesus, you're a true ball of rage, you know 'at?"

"I'm not-" you huff out, and take a deep breath in, "-I'm not mad."

"Defensive then," he mends, "-You act as though I'm about to strike any minute."

You pursed your lips, "Whose to say you aren't?"

"Me," Patrick laughs, "-This entire conversation. The way I've acted around you since the beginning-"

"Oh, shut up," you roll your eyes, unable to stop the smile creeping onto your lips, "-you were an asshole once."

He groaned, but something like amusement was twinkling in his eyes, "You are the most stubborn human being on this earth-"

"You took my spot," you interrupt, sturdy.

"-It's public property," Patrick argued back, "-and how was I supposed to know it was yours before I sat in it?"

You paused, for a moment, before saying, "You couldn't. But, you could have given it to me when I asked."

"And then we wouldn't be here," he explained, now fully grinning, "-and wouldn't that just be such a bore."

Your eyes swam over his face a moment, Patrick Verona. And his dumb persistence. And his stupid handsome face-

God.

You let out a long sigh, picking around at your food. Eyes watching the swirl of your fork, you debate a few different things to say. Finally, after a few spare seconds, you made up your mind.

"Yeah," you hum, flickering your eyes up to his, "-it would."

Patrick grinned, big and bright and twinkly (you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest). His eyes, the deep brown that if you weren't careful you could stare at for way too long, were soft but still sort of happy, eager. Definitely eager.

And maybe, just maybe, you could get used to-

"I told you I could work on the 'stranger' thing," he suddenly said, smirking, "-You never should've doubted me."

"What?" You raised an eyebrow, confused.

"You said-" Patrick explained, "-you don't give your name out to strangers. And I said I could work on that part-"

You level a look at him.

"-And look, I did," he continued, before adding with a smirk, "-I have successfully escaped the cavernous barrier, deeper than the ocean I'd say, that walls you off from any poor soul who wishes to know you-"

"You're really pushing it, Verona," you chime back, fiery (but not quite all the way).

"What?" He raised his eyebrows, like he said nothing at all to warrant the reaction, "-You can't tell me that it's not like pulling teeth getting to know you. Or trying to anyway-"

You press your lips onto a flat line, "Wow, you must be a sort of masochist, then?

He faltered for a second, before laughing a little, "Oh absolutely, I chase the high of you ignoring me for 2 hours straight every day."

You rolled your eyes, biting down a smile, "I despise you."

"Better that than indifferent," he responded with ease, "-I prefer you feeling something rather than nothing at all."

"Oh my god-"

It continued like that, a back and forth, as you finish eating your mediocre cafeteria lunch. The silence is sparse but not uncomfortable when Patrick isn't running his mouth, that is. It was nice. Insanely nice. You'd probably never had as much fun on this campus as you did with him, just in general, but...

"Same time Wednesday?" He poses with a cheeky grin, leaning onto one hand against the table -closer to you than before.

You felt something warm swirl into your stomach, as your eyes flickered over his face. He was still smiling, like he wasn't able to stop when he was here with you. And something in you never wanted to see it go away anyway.

So, with a slight head tilt and a brighter grin than what you'd let slip past all day, you repeated.

"Same time Wednesday."

[thepaperpanda]

Chocolates || Keigo Takami x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary:  As the second most popular hero in Japan, Hawks receives numerous Valentine's Day gifts, which can make you feel a bit uncertain about the gift you've chosen for him.

Warnings: None

Word count: 1110

Authors: Cass & Fenrir

It was hard to believe. Your day was spent making your own chocolate for Keigo, but here you were facing your flat's doors, staring at the mountain of gifts. It's kind of what you expected. It was Valentine's Day and your man was the number two hero in all of Japan, so of course everyone sent him gifts. The majority of them look more expensive than yours. And to make matters worse, he appeared quite happy and amused by this fact.

While slowly moving the boxes inside the flat, he asked, "Can you see those?" His voice was filled with happiness. "People truly love me and those are the only perks of being number two that I can adapt to," he joked, but stopped, watching your rather unhappy expression. "What? Aren't you happy?"

As you looked at the boxes, you felt more and more ashamed.  As you shifted your bag onto your back, you fake smiled at him. "As a matter of fact, my boyfriend is the second-best hero."

A smug smile crossed his lips as he agreed. "That's true." 

As soon as Hawks finished moving all the packages into the flat, he closed the door and began peering through them to see what he had received. "Look at that, Y/N! I think we will have chocolate for half a year."

Before reading the card aloud, you muttered, "Well...," and looked at one of the boxes. "For my one and only hero. Oh, how cute." 

He approached you, smiled a little too triumphantly, and put his arm around your shoulders. "Hey, smile at me. The fact they are all addressed to me doesn't change the fact I am sharing them with my one and only girl."

You cringed a bit. "C'mon, they're all yours. Girls sent them to their beloved Hawks, not Hawks and his girlfriend. In all honesty, I am jealous."

"My babyboo is jealous of me!" He mused and kissed your cheek.

"How could I not?!" You demanded, angrily. "Look at those! Some of those are more expensive than what I made."

"And what did you get for me on the occasion of Valentine's Day?"

With a sigh, you glanced at the boxes again and thought, "I got you something nice, but as I look at all the gifts, it does not seem that pleasant anymore. Since I'm tired, I'm going to the bedroom."

"Come on, before that, I want to see what did you get for me, I'm more than sure it's something fancy and beautiful."

As you sigh, you reached into your bag and pulled out a nice, hand-made box. "Today, I went to my best friend's house and she was making chocolates for her man. I decided to try it too."

To examine the box, he drew nearer. "Is there chocolate inside?"

"No. I made you a box to keep all those feathers you lose every day," you replied sarcastically. "Of course it's chocolate inside, sweetie. What else could it be?”

Keigo chuckled while tapping your nose with his gloved palm despite the sarcasm in your tone. "Perhaps an engagement ring? Since I am aware of your openness, I believe I can expect anything from you. You know I love sweets, but because there's chocolate in, I'm even happier, even though you're the sweetest candy of them all."

You rolled your eyes, groaning and crossing your arms over your chest as you blushed. "In this pile of fan mail, there must be an engagement ring somewhere, I bet."

"Good. We can sell it then!"

Then you burst into laughter, covering your mouth in delight.

"What!"

"Nothing! Just... It will be weird if a pro suddenly starts selling engagement rings," you laughed and turned your attention to him. "Let's change, and we can eat those chocolates on the balcony. I'm curious and scared to see how they turn out."

"I believe they'll be delicious, but I don't know if you should eat them.”

"And why is that?” You raised an eyebrow curiously.

He took hold of your plan and brought it to his lips, kissing it. "You are aware of my affection for you. And while eating chocolate can help your brain produce endorphins, it can also lead you to gain weight. I'm just worried about your well-being."

With your eye twitching from anger, you commented, "I'm afraid I may end up in jail for murdering Japan's number two. Are you trying to say that I am fat, and you don't want me to gain even more weight?” 

"You said that you're fat," he commented with a shrug. "I didn't say anything about you being too big."

Frowning, you grabbed the box from him. "I'll send those to Jeanist or even better, Endeavor himself. I'm sure he'll love them," you smiled at him. I don't want my favorite bird boy to get too heavy to fly. I'm just worried about your health and well-being," you mocked back.

"Ey! Give me my chocolate back!"

"My one and only hero needs to stay in tip-top shape!" You shrugged. "That means no chocolate for ya."

Keigo rushed for one of the boxes he had been given, opened it, and crammed a number of chocolate pralines into his mouth.

"It was obvious that you liked those more than mine," you sighed sadly. "Oh, well. It's time to change my boyfriend."

"So give me my gift back. I want to judge myself."

As you showed him your tongue, you said, "Okay... But I need a kiss in return."

He inhaled deeply, swallowed the pralines, and then walked over to give you a quick kiss on the lips. "Would you kindly let me in on a little secret right now? Did you add salty caramel to the chocolate you made? Tell me you did."

You shrugged with a cocky smile. "It may have happened, or it may not have happened. I think you'll need to find out for yourself, baby."

He snatched the box out of your hands and stuffed his mouth with two pieces of chocolate. A loud hum soon followed.

"Do you like it?" You walked up and took one for yourself..

"Aaaahhmmm mhhmm," he hummed, enjoying the salty taste spilling over his tongue.

You kissed his cheek, giggling. "Even I am happy now that they are excellent."

"Good? They're flawlessly fantastic."

You smiled and ruffled his messy hair, resting your head on his shoulder. "Happy Valentine's Day, Big Bird."

He ran the tip of his tongue along his lips, then planted a brief kiss on your cheek. "Okay. So now! While watching TV, let's examine the other chocolates I've received. Both of us merit some sweetness. Sweet Valentine's, honey."

[urfavbooblover]

Is requesting Jill x Nemesis T-Type Reader ok like they meet and the reader is a weak version of the Tyrant but alot nicer and develops a curse on her, sorry if this one is weird.

Hi, thanks for the request! And it’s totally okay, I actually like writing something more exceptionally! I also hope, that I wrote this after what you’ve imagined, so enjoy reading :)) I’m sorry btw for how long this took me, i was taking a quite long break and i apologize this is kinda short

Nothing like him || Jill Valentine x female/non-male reader

Warnings: nemesis alike reader, slight cursing, fluff

(remind me if I missed any)

- Resident evil 3 masterlist link -

Y/N’s pov:

I walked down the street, lost in my thoughts. This city is a total mess and I don’t know how all of this happened. I was used in of the umbrella academy’s projects, but it didn’t work out like they wanted it to.

I also have no idea where I’m going right now, till I heard someone shout something, standing right in front of me. “Don’t you dare, coming any closer!”

My eyes moved up from the ground, landing on a attractive woman. I even did what she told me to do, lifting my hands slightly up. I gave her a confused look, before deciding to talk myself.

“Listen, I know you can’t trust anyone you meet in this apocalypse, especially because I may look a little different, but I’m not a threat.”

She scanned my whole body, still having her gun pointed at me. “Who are you?”

“My name’s Y/N. You probably know of the Umbrella Academy? They used me for one of their disgusting experiments. That’s the reason why I look not so much human like you do.”

That’s the truth. I got much taller than before, actually taller than anyone else, just like Nemesis. I may look a bit terrifying to someone, also due to the fact, that I got much more muscular, but also not “normal”.

“Do you mind telling me your name?”, I asked, in the nicest way possible, so she won’t just leave or even worse put a bullet through my head. “My name’s Jill… I was already attacked by a big guy. You must know more about him.”

“Fuck. He must be Nemesis. He’s just as tall as I am but much more terrifying and dangerous. He supposedly wanders through the whole city and must still be somewhere around here”

Jill had a terrified look plastered all over her pretty face and i couldn’t help but get kinda lost by staring at her. She must have noticed me zoning out tho, “are you okay, Y/N?”

“Oh! Yes, i’m fine. But i think we should get going, you also would be better off sticking by my side, by the way. A little help is very much needed, no? You’re probably short on bullets anyway.”, i told her, as she caught up with me, now walking right beside me.

“You’re right, how did you know though?”, Jill asked while tilting up her head a little to look at me. I stared down at her, but quickly tried to avoid staring holes into her eyes. “It was just a guess, you know. It’s quite obvious after all.”

It was a long silence between us but it wasn’t awkward. I assured her, i would bring us somewhere safe for now and she seems to trust me. Jill’s the first person, that i met on my journey, who didn’t try to kill me, instead she was down to listen to me and now she’s not scared of me anymore.

My mind told me she was still unsure of this all and my whole being, she didn’t ask nothing much and i know many questions were flowing through her head, if only she would just ask.

“Okay Jill. We’re here.”, i spoke up after awhile and jogged up to the entrance of an abandoned hospital. “Didn’t take as long as i expected, are you positive however, that this is really not filling over with infected and all?”

“I know this place enough for that. Just trust me once more, alright?”, i opened the door and let her in first, before i shut and locked the doors behind us. She looked around the whole place and was very much assured for the moment. I heard her footsteps, assuming she’s finally stepping around.

“Doesn’t seem bad, huh?”. Jill spun around to face me and nodded her head, “It’s definitely a place to stay.”

We barricaded the doors a lot more with everything possible we could find, making sure not a single soul can enter. We can defend us in any case though, we’re pretty good equipped with weapons. Not even low on bullets anymore.

I finished treating and fixing up my fresh wound from earlier so that i can finally relax for a bit. I found Jill sitting down on the floor and leaning against a wall. She seemed to be confused on something and i decided to join her.

“What’s bothering you, Jill?”. My voice caught her by surprise, but she smiled softly at me, when she saw me standing there. “It’s nothing honestly, maybe i just need some company.”, she laughed and was delighted when i sat beside her.

Our body’s now very close to each other, i could even hear her breathing. The hospital is quiet, i could’ve sworn she was able to hear my heartbeat, that was going crazy only by just admiring her.

“I mean, you have me.”, i let out a nervous chuckle and noticed the change of the look in her eyes. They suddenly shined so differently and it couldn’t just be the light, but she quickly looked away after giving me one of what seemed to be her usual smiles.

I don’t know why, but i still couldn’t take my eyes away from her and she must’ve felt my gaze on her as she locked eyes with me again, i even saw them lowering to my lips once. I wasn’t paranoid, that’s for sure.

Jill has been moving slowly closer to me, placing a hand on one of my thighs. Her touch on my nearly exposed skin heated up my body to the point i felt my cheeks flushing.

Her face wasn’t far away from mine, our eye contact never broke apart and our lips were almost touching. “May i kiss you, Y/N? Or is this too early for-“

I knew what she was going to say and i couldn’t help but interrupt her by pressing my lips against hers. It’s like they were made to be put together, as much as they fit, my lips moved so smoothly on her soft ones.

The kiss didn’t last so long though, we’ve known each other for only a few hours after all. It’s just like we get along so well, i don’t think this would fuck any relationship we have up anyways, in this case. And who knows if we survive this and what has become out of this town.

“Uh ha, i think we should get some rest, no?”, i spoke in a calming voice, getting an agreement in return from Jill, who still had a big grin on her face.

____________________________________________

The next morning i woke up from weird noises, as my eyes shot open, thinking of the worst scenarios possible. I got up from the hospital bed, i slept on, seeing Jill isn’t laying on hers anymore, so i started searching from where the sounds are coming from.

Once i came closer to the place, i realized it has most definitely been Jill, who made those noises. I heard her groaning and complaining, like if she was in pain.

I sped up my walking and jogged to the room she must be in. I slowly opened the door, peeking through the small gap, grasping in the situation right in front of me.

There she was standing, her hand gripping her head, while the other one was holding onto her stomach. Her coughing got louder on top of that, which made it obvious that she’s sick. But what kind of sick?

I decided to make my way over to her, asking what’s wrong with her. “Jill? What happened to you?” Her head spun in my direction, a worried look in her eyes. She was gritting her teeth, before finally responding to me.

“I-I’m afraid i got it in me.”, her words almost coming out in a whisper. “You mean… you mean the curse?” She only nodded her head, hitching in pain again, as she almost fell down on the floor.

I luckily grabbed her in my arms, taking a closer glance at her state. She couldn’t have been bit, right? Thousands thoughts were coming in my mind at the same time, as i couldn’t make any of this up nor believe this is just happening.

My eyes went wide, thinking of yesterday. I gulped real hard, shaking my head. “No… no no no.”, i muttered to myself, as i came to conclusion.

Did I put the curse on her?

[concert-bflat]

I suddenly got hit with Kano Brainworms and now I have this Completely Unorganized post and it's gonna be your guys' problems now !! Just saying there is no flow to this whatsoever I just slapped all my points on and called it a day

Just. god I will Never stop thinking about the Tateyama siblings relationship with their younger selves and changing and growing and learning to accept themselves and Kano's. Not doing that. Remaining stagnant.

Like it's Everywhere . (Unfortunately it's been Sooo long since I've read light novel 5 so I don't have any sources to pull from there but I'm sure there's a ton okay)

Yobanashi Decieve is spent tearing down Kano's layers throughout the entire song and what do you find at the end? When he finally admits that he hates all this? Hates himself? What do you find at the center of the Kano Onion? His crying child self. At his core he still believes he is that crying boy, even says it himself "Ah, you never change", he's sneering at his current and past self, because they're the same, they're all the same. He's never moved on from his past habits and weakness. He looks at him and all he has to say is "Ah, you never change" and "Whoops, I screwed up"

Oh but we're not Quite done peeling the Kano Onion yet !! There's still a liiitle more left...

Close-up shot time !! Now you can see in its fullness his weakest moments, he's mocking his own suffering. He smiles and mocks himself, closes his eyes to his own pain and just bows. Throws my laptop

There's also this official art !! I think about this a lot but have never voiced it out before so here we go~

Just. Everyone showing off the wounds that led to their deaths, either with a smile/some enthusiasm or indifference at worst, with a pretty character-telling pose as well. And then fucking Kano, not even focusing on the photoshoot but staring directly at the evidence of his weakest moment, holding it limply, detachedly. Maybe saying that he's starting at it with scorn is too strong a word, his face looks slightly bitter at best, but I'd bet everything that that's what he's feeling.

I don't know just. Everyone around him, whether it's his siblings or the whole god damn Dan, being shown with some form of acceptance of their pasts and traumas, meanwhile Kano's still staring it in the face. Damn, you really don't lie when you say you haven't changed huh?

God my favorite example though, the one that makes me Scream.

Thank you Sidu for this art! I am now on the ground crying.

I'm too lazy to grab them right now but Kido and Seto also have art of themselves with their past selves. Kido fondly pats the head of her younger, insecure self, having growing confident and comfortable in her own skin. Seto holds his past self's hand in something liks solidarity. He doesn't have to be scared anymore. He's becoming the stronger person that he wanted to be.

And Kano?

Ah. well~. He's clinging to his past self, sobbing into his lap while his past self attempts to comfort him. Hm. With growing up you should become someone that your younger self can be proud of, right? Like Kido and Seto. They overcame their shortcomings so they could become proud of who they are today, right? Kano's collapsed in front of his past self.

Guess he didn't really do that, huh?

If anything, he's putting himself even lower than his past self. Maybe he hasn't grown, maybe not even stagnated but rather became worse, just with the same flaws that he had in the past. He didn't change at all, he just sank lower.

Your younger self can attempt to comfort you but didn't you hate yourself back then, too? So what does that make you now? Your younger self looks hunched over and dejected. He's probably just as disappointed as you are.

Ah, and there's text too, right? What does that say?

Mm. (I might have written an incorrect character but this sounds about right I think?) I feel like this was said somewhere else in kagepro, also in regards to Kano, but to be completely honest I totally forgot where. Still though. Uh.. fun! Kano says to himself not words of comfort but assurance that the future will only be more miserable, that he will only hate himself more as time goes on. As if you couldn't already tell with the art itself.

In Yobanashi Decieve, present Kano sees his other self suffering and jeers scornfully. They never changed. Here, past Kano and present Kano suffer together, with present Kano openly suffering if only to himself, clinging to his past hurt for comfort. Together they think, they never will change, they'll only get worse. It'll only get more painful.

Ahem. Just. Ugh! This one piece says so god damn much, and even more when you put it next to Kido's and Seto's. It killed me when I first saw it and still kills me to this day !!! God !

Also I don't have any funny images for this one but. Thinks about. (And I might have some details wrong because again, it's been a while since I've read light novel 5) How he thought he was useless as a child, wondered why he wasn't discarded like a functionally useless object (pretty sure he thought this while his mom threw away a broken tv remote or something?). And then in manga route 2 how he gives his life away as a tool to preserve the others' lives. He has a "use" and he's expending his whole life on it. Like I mean they're gonna die anyway but do you Really have to be like that I Hate you I hate you I h

Like once he has an objective purpose like that he faces it with an easy smile on his face. Bittersweet, yeah. But he does it so god damn willingly. Maybe he's just pretending to take on the role so easily, but still, I can't help but think that he found some comfort in having a direct "use" like this. Even if it just meant his death, for a hopeless cause. If he could just fulfill this purpose, then....

Just the way he smiles at his own demise during that Whole Sequence, even when the remainder of the Dan is Right There.

Just man. Collapses.

Kagepro is all about change and growth and growing up and realizing change and the future really isn't too scary. Meanwhile Kano's stagnant, still sees him as unchanged from his younger self, is too scared to change his manners even if it may help him. No wonder he hates himself. I'm just. Guh, shoves the themes of the narrative in his face Kano Please I'm begging

Like mf he looks content like everyone else in Summertime Record but Are You Really. Are you Really happy yet. Have you really found it within yourself to accept change. Accept yourself. Accept Everything. Do you really think that you'll be able to finally make your younger self smile?

Buries my face in my hands God this man will never Not haunt me for the rest of my days. Get him therapy. I'm normal about him.

I was supposed to be working on assignments but here I am, with my stupid little Kano essay at 1 in the morning. I doubt anyone's gonna read this but if you did I hope you enjoy? This man is very silly in all the worst ways. I love him, I hate him, I want to shove him into a microwave. I want to put him under a microscope. I have multiple times. This man is like a fundamental character that will never Not be a part of my life even when I thought the kagepro hellhole was somewhat behind me for the meantime. He just. Man! He's a lot. And I hope you're in pain with me now too over it ! Okay that's all bye byee~

[thebrideofreanimator]

ask and you shall receive here is a post about the shit show that was the making of the 1925 phantom of the opera

SO firstly lon chaney (and basically everyone else) did NOTT like rupert julian (director, sort of) but chaney and him absolutely hated each other and very quickly got to a point they wouldn't talk to each other and lon just wouldn't listen to him at all and basically rupert julian was a bad director and everyone knew it and also was just terrible to everyone. julian is the one credited but several other people also ended up directing the film, sometimes lon chaney himself

lon chaney and norman kerry also did not get along

during the unmasking scene julian wasn't happy with mary's performance and they eventually just decided to quit for the day but lon asked everyone else to stay for one more take and then proceeded to scare the hell out of her by yelling a bunch of really mean things at her and then raising his arm as if he was going to hit her before calling for the cameras to cut as they got the reaction they wanted and he did apologize to her after. theres conflicting info on how she felt about it but either way i feel bad for her i'm sorry mary :(

when the movie was first released it was and the responses were so bad they had to pull it from theaters and basically rewrote and reshot the whole thing. they released it again and it did even worse!! they rewrote and reshot the movie once again and then finally after many many reshoots it was a success and also very expensive!!!! it ended up costing like 11 million dollars in todays money to make ALSO somewhere in there we lost the og ending and i am never forgiving the test audiences for that ever #TheReplacementEndingSucks. also throughout this julian got fired and several others took over

after finally achieving success the decided to do it again in 1929 with sound!!! yay!!! lon chaney was not allowed to participate at all bc of mgm and universal wasnt allowed to have someone dub him either!!! so yeah they released it with sound but erik stayed silent and then the sound version caught on fire in the 40s and is lost now. all of the sound actually still exists though. theres a cool reconstruction of the sound vers on youtube using it (or whats publicly available of it)

and thats your phantom history lesson of the night

[weepylucifer]

i try to keep it light n breezy on here, but i think i need to write some shit down somewhere. so here is a dreary little tale

so in august of last year, i had covid. it felt like a two-week-long flu, but then it was over. a year ago FUCKING PRECISELY, the Problems started. i went to multiple doctors, but no one paid me any attention, and i was told not to make a fuss, everyone was having post-covid these days, and it'd all go away by itself. further, in a breathtaking display of shittiness, my dad told me to stop being selfish and burden my mother (who, after all, has actual problems!) and himself with my shit. so i gave up. i tried to go on with my life as if nothing had happened, to get a job and finish college, and hoped that the Problems would indeed go away by themselves.

since then i have sat by and watched my body get weaker and weaker and it scared the shit out of me, but there was literally no one who would listen to me or believe me. i lost what little endurance i started out with until i couldn't make the 10-minute walk to the grocery store without almost passing out. i did faint in the grocery store, actually, and i just went home and told no one bc they would have just told me it was my fault, that if i exercised, or kept a proper sleep schedule, or what the fuck ever, i would be in the bloom of my health. for a year now, randomly, my heartbeat goes weird. i started getting dizzy spells out of nowhere with no apparent cause. i live alone. i was frightened all of the time of the day i'd just not manage to take care of myself anymore. i was convinced that if i asked my friends or boyfriend for help, they'd believe i was lying too. i had no idea what was going on with my body. post-covid can, it looks like right now, manifest any fucking symptom ever, which means it could also be anything else.

because the dizziness was getting so dire i barely dared to leave the house anymore, i decided to try seeing my gp again. this time they discovered i'm so fucking anemic it's like a dracula stole half my blood away. after i was Urged to go to the hospital, i arrived at an ER bursting with people and naturally presumed i'd have to hang around for a couple hours, but after i showed them my blood test results i was absolutely Rushed into observation. i got an iron transfusion and am on several new meds as of last week.

today there was an article in the paper (yeah, my parents still subscribe to the local paper) on the one dude in this area who treats post-covid. it lists every symptom that i have. it also says that apparently somehow covid fucks with whatever it is that makes red blood vessels. this could have been explained to me a year ago. it wasn't. i had to let it get exceedingly bad to be deemed worthy of help. that doctor doesn't even have a solution yet. just "eat beets, take walks, and exercise a bit but not too much". i still took the article and put it in my journal bc it's the first thing i've seen in a year that has validated me.

so here i am. my health is in the toilet. i am an absolute twitching anxious mess. even if everything goes perfectly with the new meds (which it rarely does for anyone, does it) it may take weeks or even months until i get to just feel normal again. i still get dizzy every day. sometimes i have a hard time focusing on reading or writing. i can't work. i can't do anything strenuous for fear of passing out. i'm staying with my parents because i'm not sure, if i went back to my apartment, if i could manage to keep myself alive. i haven't seen my boyfriend in weeks. there are friends i'm not meeting, ladies i'm not going on dates with, parties and other events that i'm missing. every time i have to text someone saying i'm not well enough to go out quite yet, i'm afraid they'll get tired of my shit and stop contacting me. my life is basically on hold until further notice.

and there are still people who have been hit way worse by post-covid than me. i am at least not bedridden, and i still have my sense of smell and taste, and it seems like my symptoms can be improved. i'm not saying this to self-flagellate, i'm saying it because it's ludicrous how callously the whole disease gets treated. people want covid as a whole out of sight and out of mind so that we can all be such productive little cogs in the capitalist machine and act like the pandemic is over. tons of people are still catching it. others will never be the same from the aftereffects of it, and there straight up is no cure for that. like what is fucking wrong with us as a world that we consider that acceptable collateral damage. for what, even? just so that we can continue avoiding taking stock of the current episteme that Does Not fucking work for most of us in the first place? just so that somewhere, for the gratification of someone, line go up? why was it so important for us, a year or so ago, to reestablish this figment of normalcy when, again, what was normal was already not working out?

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Peach Pit - a Magnus Archives Fic

An AU Somewhere Else - part of the Magnus Monsterverse series.

Spoilers for the whole podcast.

Something is definitely unusual about Jon's experience with the Eye.

Several cheesy sci-fi explanations and eight Jonah Magnuses later, Jon has more questions than ever - but at least it seems like he might have found a new friend.

AO3

-------

Manuela’s printout made my head spin.

If I let go, if I relaxed the willed mitosis that kept me sane—that retained me as me and not an It to It— her printout would all make sense. 

It tried—pushed that temptation before me, promised without words what utter bliss it would be to know everything here and now.

It would be bliss. I know it would. But that was not what I wanted.

Pleasure is not permission, I told It, because whether or not It understood those words, I did.

“Would you mind explaining what this is and how you obtained it?” I said.

She looked quite surprised. “You don’t just know?”

“I could.” They were all listening. I suddenly wondered if this were a test. “I have no intention of ever giving the Eye unfettered access to my mind again, however, and so, I am limited.”

“Amazing,” said Leitner, clapping his hands together and startling me. “Remarkable. I knew you’d be safe to bring here.”

“Hush,” said Gertrude. “You mean that, do you?”

So it was a test. “Yes.” 

“Even if your lover passed away again?” she said, and I didn’t care what Leitner claimed—those were the eyes of someone who would absolutely try to kill me.

But I wasn’t what I once was.

I knew fear. I certainly had plenty of my own. Yes, I was scared of Jane, of Sarah, of what they could all do.

But I was a little bit scary myself, now. Of course, I could probably still die—but I wasn’t sure how anymore.

I had to take a moment to answer. “First… are you threatening him?”

Her eyebrows rose. “No.”

“Okay. Well, there’s no reason to assume he’ll die for a very long time.”

“The Lonely does not extend lifespan,” Gertrude said.

“Yes, but he’s healthy, lacks genetic predispositions toward inheritable illnesses, and currently suffers from nothing so much as a lack of sleep.” I froze, mouth open.

Gertrude’s lips quirked. “Only that, eh? I thought you weren’t knowing things.”

“Apparently, when it’s really important, it slips through,” I said primly.

Gertrude snorted. “Still. You avoided my question.”

“No, I’m laying foundation for an answer. I’m not wracked by fear of him dying.” I stopped, swallowed, continued. “Also, I don’t think I can express how badly depressed I was when this… when he was murdered.”

His hand was my anchor.

“And a thousand years engulfed in that didn’t make it worse?”

“No, because the Eye was trying to comfort me,” I said, because it was true. “It’s stupid, though. Meant well, I truly believe, but is stupid—and so all it knew to do was remove me from the hurt.”

“Meant well?” said Gertrude with great disbelief.

“The Eye loves me. Damned if I know why,” I said.

She stared. “They don’t love people.”

“They certainly do. It just doesn’t generally turn out well for the object of that love.”

They all stared at me. Gertrude looked offended. Manuela looked fascinated. Leitner was unreadable behind his stupid green spectacles.

They were being ridiculous. “This shouldn’t be that strange,” I said. “They may not be living things like us, but they certainly have tastes and preferences.”

“I knew it! ” said Manuela, slamming her fist into her thigh.

“Manuela,” Leitner started. 

“They have tastes! Opinions! Thoughts!”

“Only in the most basic sense,” I said. “Look, we’ve dropped off the point: I wouldn’t be great if he died, no. But I wouldn’t do what I did then, either. I don’t know how much you know about what happened, but when m… when…” Martin squeezed my hand, and I could keep going. “When he died, we’d been walking for uncountable time through a living hellscape, a nightmare world in which every living thing capable of suffering did, and all their misery was shoved forcefully into my brain.”

Gertrude frowned. “Wait a moment. Are you saying the world ended before you entered your thousand year state?”

“Yes.”

She frowned harder. “Explain.” 

“When Martin died, the world already belonged to the Beholding.”

“How?”

“I was tricked by a man named Jonah Magnus,” I said.

Manuela stiffened.

“What?” Oh, no, I wasn’t letting that go. “What?”

“We just found one,” she said.

I stared at her. “One… what?”

“I mean, we know of eight,” she said, glancing between Gertrude and Leitner and me. “But there’s one who’s actually ready to fetch. His world’s ended. His Fear is feeding on him, and he’s not having a good time. So, I mean. What do you mean, he tricked you?”

So I didn’t know what my face did.

I felt pale. I felt… sort of tingly and numb ( vasoconstriction, the narrowing of blood vessels due to emotional stress). I realized I wasn’t breathing only because Martin came around, knelt in front of me, and cupped my face.

“Hey,” he said.

Him. His eyes. Him. I melted into him, against him, clung to him like a rock in a storm. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

I was shaking. “You don’t understand who he is.”

Martin knew I wasn’t talking to him.

“We do,” said Gertrude. “Possibly more than you, since you’ve only encountered one of him.”

“No, you don’t know who he is,” I said, sitting up, glaring over Martin’s shoulder. “You don’t know what he’s capable of!”

“Ending the world, evidently,” said Leitner. “Like you.”

“No, not like me! At least the damage I did, I did with my own damn hands!” I snapped.

“Shhh. Jon. I get it. They will too, in time. Shhh. It’s not that one. It’s not that Jonah.” Martin hesitated. “I mean. They said everyone in your world was dead, so it couldn’t be that Jonah, could it?”

“What happened to him in your timeline, Martin? When you had to kill me.”

Manuela flinched at the words—and that was right. That’s how it should be. She had a human heart, and I really, really liked her.

“You killed him,” Martin whispered. “You stabbed him and took his place.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh,” I said after a long moment.

He watched me. Watching for… I don’t know. Some response.

My face burned. “I didn’t stab him.”

“What did you do, then?” said Leitner, sounding absolutely fascinated.

“I ate him.”

“You what? ” said Gertrude.

“I mean… not literally.” Fuck it. I pressed my face to Martin’s shoulder. I didn’t want to see how anyone was looking at me now.

“How?” whispered Martin.

Him, I could answer. Him, I would answer. “After you died. After I… lost myself completely. After I turned to the Eye, because… everything else was already gone. When it had me, when it… eased me. We went to the Panopticon.”

“We?”

“I... I suppose it was an I, but not really. It was we.”

“Go on,” murmured Martin.

I sighed. “Jonah was fine with it. If that matters.”

“Fine with what?” said Leitner.

“Becoming one with the Eye. That’s what he thought of it as.”

“And… what did you think of it as?” said Leitner. “What did you even do?”

“I don’t know how to explain that,” I mumbled into Martin’s shoulder. “The Eye ate him. I was the Eye. But we didn’t literally eat? His body fell and rotted. I don’t know.”

“That’s absurd,” said Leitner.

“It’s incredible,” said Manuela. “Jon. I need to pick your brain. Please.”

I sighed. “I don’t know anything, Manuela. Not really.”

“But your experiences, your impressions—”

“Manuela,” Leitner began in a chiding tone.

“Please, Jon,” said Manuela. “I’ll pay you.”

I paused. “Shit. We do need money here, don’t we?”

Gertrude laughed. She sounded like she hadn’t expected to. “You were floating for a while, weren’t you?”

My face burned again. “Oh, yes. Freed from the demands of Capitalism. How very blessed I was,” I drawled.

“Please,” said Manuela again.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Leitner said.

Maneula flipped him off. He sighed.

Right. She reminded me of Sasha, and had summarily gone from liked to among my favorite people territory. “If you really think it’ll do any good, yes. I will,” I said. “Ah… about Jonah…”

“Let’s discuss that as part of everything,” she said. “Obviously, we don’t want Jonah here if he’s a danger.”

“He is,” I said.

“Let’s find out together! Nothing’s decided yet, after all. Here.” She dug into her pocket and produced a business card. “We’ve barely even talked about you yet. Listen—I have satellite feeds monitoring everything. Surges of power (which are observable via atmospheric and magnetic disturbance, heat, radiation, and more, believe it or not), increases in psychological events or unexpected deaths… you have no idea.”

“It sounds like a police state,” I said before I could help myself.

She shook her head. “I’m the only one who gets to see all of it—as annoyed as that makes some people —and I don’t have any authority to act on it, nor the power to do so even if I did.”

I stared at her business card; I was still draped on Martin, and I did not give a damn who saw. (Maybe a little. Maybe I did it at them, as well.) “Do I… call you?” All it had was her name and a number.

“Yes! I’ll come get you.”

“Portal travel?”

“Well, I’m based out of the Alps, so yes, you’ll prefer that.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “So. Tell me what happened. What I did. Cliff’s Notes.”

She looked thrilled. “I’m calling it prisming.”

“Weird nomenclature? You?” said Gertrude, dryly. “Thought I’d never see the day.”

“Prisming,” said Manuela, like tuning back in after a commercial break. “Of course, you understand the concept—when light, passing through glass, slows and bends at different wavelengths, separating into the colors that make up light, which we normally can’t see.”

Martin snorted. “Are we really doing that goofy sci-fi movie trope?”

I pulled back to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

His smile was so adorable I wanted to wrap it around my heart like a blanket. “We have got to fix your viewing habits. These movies—they’ll  be talking about something wild like the loss of Earth’s magnetic field, and then they’ll demonstrate it by roasting a peach pit with hairspray and a lighter.”

I laughed.

I laughed hard. I couldn’t help it. It had been so long since I’d encountered anything so silly. “What! What? You’re joking!”

“Not even a little,” he said, utterly pleased with himself.

“You ought to already know about such things,” said Gertrude warily.

It was another test, but I was still laughing and couldn’t be bothered being intimidated this time. “The Eye knows everything, but doesn’t interact with it. That’s a human response.” I wiped my eyes. My smile faded. “I told you the condition it had me in. Believe me, I spent no time with nonsense like that. I would have missed Martin too much.”

Except… It did care about things now, didn’t It?

It was amused by Brother Love. This was new; I could feel it, feel that this development was relatively recent. How could this be? 

I was not going to volunteer the question. Not yet.

“Hm,” Gertrude said. “And do you have the memoirs of all It knew?”

“I honestly don’t know. I feel like I’ve woken from a coma—which I have done, by the way. You’re not… you feel very weird for a while. You are yourself, but not.”

“You were in a coma?” said Manuela. “Tell me about it?”

“We haven’t even finished the current conversation.”

“I don’t think we’ll finish this one for a while,” said Manuela, back on track. “I haven’t figured out how you did it. To be honest, I assumed you’d understand this,” she said, holding up the printout, “and could help explain it to me.”

“Oh.” Disappointed. Embarrassed. “I could try to help?”

Leitner sighed. “Really, Manuela?”

“Well, this is quite new,” she said. “None of the Eye avatars have done anything like this before.”

I blinked at her. “They haven’t?”

“No. It’s one of the reasons I want to investigate your theory about the Eye liking you. That could be what makes this different.”

“But then what are other avatars like?”

“Lenses. Magnification, clarification, seeing through whatever to the truth of things.”

“Peach pits,” Martin mumbled, and set me off again.

“Well,” I finally said. “There may be a way to access all that knowledge, but right now, I don’t know how to do it safely. The Eye is too used to having all of me. It’s a fire hydrant, not a faucet.” I grinned at Martin.

He grinned back and rolled his eyes.

“Right, well,” said Manuela. “What you did is somehow break the hunter—who is effective because they are basically combinations of various avatars—into individual parts. That’s not a little thing.”

“Wait. I did? And they’re what, merged ? Like some sort of Flesh abomination?”

“Not at all. It’s much more homogeneous than that.”

“They’re working together?” Horror erased what amusement I had.

“Or being forced to.”

I stared at her. “Why would someone do that? We’re up against some… mad scientist of the Fears? How is that even possible?”

“We don’t know, but it seems like that, doesn’t it? It’s the reason Jurgen decided to bring people like you here who’d do anything to stop it—it was already happening when we arrived. Otherwise, we’d have to watch the world end again.”

Martin’s eyes were huge. It seemed I wasn’t the only one hearing this for the first time.

“Are you going to tell him everything?” said Leitner, dry.

“Am I going to tell… an avatar of the Eye…” Manuela began with such sarcasm that I think even Tim would’ve been impressed.

“Yes, all right, fair point,” Leitner said, sounding pouty.

He probably wanted to feel important by doling things out. That, or he didn’t trust me. Well, that went both ways. “And why are they called hunters, then?” I said. “Is that the primary Fear they’re made of, or something?”

“No, that was just the name sticking before we could be clever about it,” she said.

That made sense. Humans did that sort of thing—not that I was about to share such an observation. It would make me sound too far outside humanity.

I wasn’t. I was still me. I had to believe that.

“Jurgen, I’m done here,” said Gertrude. “If there’s nothing else for me to do…?”

“You are?” He sounded so surprised.

“Yes. I have come to my conclusion.”

I peered at her over Martin’s shoulder.

“You have?” said Leitner.

“I’ll send you my report, but some of us don’t have the luxury of sitting around in plush chairs all day, staring at stained glass.”

I couldn’t help snorting. 

“Everyone is in such a mood today,” said Leitner, and waved his hand at her dismissively. “I want that report.”

Gertrude waved back—with far more disdain than he’d managed—and simply left without another word to us.

“Was that good?” I murmured.

“Hell if I know,” Martin murmured back. “She didn’t come stare at me in any of my meetings.”

“Well, you not knowing alters things,” Manuela said, “but it’s not a dead end. Give me a few days to correlate and collect more data, then let’s talk.”

“All right. I can do that.”

“I think the question, Jon, is whether you can do it again,” said Leitner.

“I don’t know. I’d advise not making any plans around an incident hat could’ve been a fluke,” I said.

“Do you think it was?” Leitner said evenly.

“I don’t know. It could have been some lingering effect of… everything. It’s a risk. Don’t plan around it.”

He huffed. “Fine. But you could save lives.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll figure something out—but I won’t risk anyone in the process,” I said.

And this time, I received the dismissive hand-wave. “If there’s nothing else, Manuela?”

She grinned at me. “A week.”

“A week. I’ll call.”

She stood, gathered her lawn chair, looked around as though to be certain she hadn’t dropped anything, and opened a portal.

I almost saw how she did it—her lenses example, seeing where she wanted to go, and in the process, tunneling a way there.

Was that good? Did it damage something? I had no idea.

She was gone, and it was significantly less comfortable with only Leitner staring at us. “You really are proving to be as interesting as I’d hoped,” he said.

“I… you’re welcome?” I said, uncertain as to the pleasantries in this situation.

“We’ll obviously need to dive into this further, but both Manuela and Gertrude seem to think you are no threat to us—which was my main concern.”

“And you’d have done what, if they thought otherwise?” I said.

“Well, I don’t know. We’d attempt capture and rehabilitation.”

“Like Nikola.”

“Yes. Taking your life would be the absolute last step. We’ve had enough death. All of us.”

I needed to see Nikola for myself before determining whether that truly was the better option. “I don’t intend to die or harm anyone. I just want to live, and I don’t mean mere survival. All of this took my life from me.”

“I understand,” he said, and sounded like he did. “It’s what they all want, and I try to give opportunity for.”

It was awkward now for a different reason. I wished I could just believe him; it would be lovely if he were honest. 

And maybe he was, but that would have to be proven over time. “Are we done?”

“Yes. Oh—stop and see Agnes on your way out. She’ll give you a lunch voucher.”

Oh. All right.

We held hands and left.

Agnes was indeed there—her hair cut short, dressed as though it were 35 Celsius in here. She smiled; she eyed me in a way I was coming  to recognize as Oh, I killed you in my world, and handed us little coupons for lunch across the street.

We both knew we’d be saving those coupons for later.

I waited until we were outside again before speaking. “How can you stand me?”

“What?” Martin said, startled.

My voice shook. “They all kill me. Even you had to kill me. I drove everyone to it. How can you even—”

He kissed me. Arms around, holding tight so I could not blow apart. “I didn’t want to. You didn’t drive me to it. It was the Web’s plan from start to finish.”

I stared at him.

“She was trying to eacape,” he said. “But to do that, the Eye had to be lured to another world—and that could only happen with you as both bait and bear trap. We both fell for it, Jon. It wasn’t your fault.”

I stared more. “You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“I did. If it was your fault, I’d tell you. But all you did was be yourself, not know what you were doing, and be used. By everyone. I’m not too happy about eight Jonah Magnuses, either.”

“Maybe we can put them all in a room, and they’ll eat each other,” I muttered.

“I’m pretty sure with that many of them together, they would just rule the world.”

“Or wreck it.” I leaned in. “I suppose it might not be like that. Are different versions of people different here?

“Wildly. We saw the Evans earlier, remember? One’s full Lonely; the other went Desolation.”

“Damn,” I said, trying to picture it.

“They get along like siblings—because they just do—but they are very different people.”

I made a face like tasting something awful. “I suppose I’ll at least look at him. Jonah.”

“You don’t have to. He’s not your responsibility.”

“I know him better than anyone here. I do have to, Martin.”

And Jared pulled up. I hadn’t even noticed Martin messaging him. “Right,” Jared said, rising impossibly huge from his vehicle like all the passengers of a clown car in one, and opening the back door for us.  He eyed Martin. “This’s what you wanted, eh? No wonder I weren’t your type.” And he laughed wetly.

Martin shrugged. “Always was. Not your fault.”

“Eh,” said Jared. “Killed him anyway, my time. Don’t feel like I owe nothing bad now.”

“How did you…” I said.

“Got these letters, yeah? An’ your picture. Told me where you’d be. Got into the Institute and there you were—but not for long.”

“Jonah Magnus again,” I murmured to Marrin.

“Coincidence.”

I was beginning to wonder. “I need to talk to Jane.”

“Sure? Let’s do lunch at home, first.”

“Do… do I have food?” I said, eyes wide.

Martin laughed. “I do. It’s time you came to my flat, anyway.”

“You gonna get in or not?” Jared said.

We got in.

I kept Martin’s hand between mine. “Thank you for being there.”

He just held me.

We were silent the rest of the ride back. And nothing was stopping us. Nothing was caging us in, or chaining us down. I still felt increasingly trapped, and I had no idea what to do.

The Eye tried to tell me about Jared’s secret love affair with some Corruption avatar, but I didn’t let that get too far.

Its delight unnerved me. It had changed. 

And I was beginning to wonder if I was the reason it had. 

[writteninthesewalls28]

She got the man

A/n: This work is part of the "be my valentine challenge" by @bemyvalentinechallenge for the day 13 prompt.

Summary: Willow (reader) is fake-dating Niall Horan, but somewhere fell in love with him.

Warnings: none

"I need to talk to you." Were the words I heard when I answered the phone. And I thought, this was it. This was the end of our relationship.

But let me explain it.

Months ago, I started a relationship with the popstar Niall Horan. At least that´s what the media believes. Because behind closed doors, we were "fake dating" since I am an actress and pretty popular as well. It was the best solution to keep both of us away from any sort of rumour. But somewhere between the "holding hands for the media" and the "let´s go out for a coffee, just us too" I fell in love and had been scared of the day where he´d call it quit.

Turns out, that day was today.

"Yeah… you´re right, it´s time to quit this and move on" I said, pretending like I was completely okay with this. I am an actress, I can lie straight in your face and you won´t even notice.

Niall sighed and then suddenly said: "Willow, I wish I knew how to quit you."

"I totally get it, Niall. You don´t have to- WHAT?!" I first didn´t even realise what his words meant for us, for this relationship. "you- you don´t wanna… stop fake dating?" It would be wrong of me to just assume, he fell in love too. Because, you know, who would ever fall in love with me?

Niall chuckled. "Oh no, I want to stop fake dating, totally."

What is wrong with him, why is he such a dumb-

"I want to ´date´. With holding hands because we want to and kissing because we feel like it and spending time together because we like each other."

I could not believe what he said. "Is this real? Or are you playing with me? Please just tell me because I can´t-"

"I´m not playing, Willow. I fell in love with you." He said. I could practically hear the smile he had on his face because I acted silly again. He told me multiple times, how much he loved that side of me. "Please don´t tell me, you don´t feel the same…?"

Was he seriously still worrying about that?

"Of course I feel the same, Niall! I just was so scared to tell you!"

I grinned like someone just offered me my dream role in the re-make of my favorite movie The Greatest Showman.

He loved me. He literally shared my feelings.

"Sooo, how are we gonna explain this to our managers and friends?" I asked, seriously not knowing what to do now. I was a little overwhelmed with my emotions at this point.

"Don´t you worry about the managers, I got that already covered. Our friends… that´s a different thing."

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

We walked into the room, holding hands, hoping they´d notice right away and we didn´t have to explain anything.

But- well. It went a little different.

"Oh no. The media is here guys!" Louis called out when he saw our hands. We looked at each other, thinking the exact same thing. We actually had to explain it? Dang it.

"No, Louis. Don´t worry, no one´s here to take any pictures." Niall tried calming his band mate down, but instead made the situation worse.

"But- what else could be going on here then?" Harry then asked.

Boys. Why are all of them at least a little dumb. How come I didn´t think this through? Of course they wouldn´t get it.

I sighed and let go of Niall´s hand, for which I got a little pout from him. "Boys, we are together." No reaction, from no one.

And finally when Harry made a face, as if he realized what I meant, he crashed my hopes again. "ohhhhh, where are the cameras filming us?"

I exchanged a confused look with Niall.

"No, guys. You don´t get it" Niall tried again, but wasn´t successful. He just shook his head in disappointment.

Now Liam walked up to us, who didn´t hear anything of the previous conversation and saw Niall´s and mine interlocked hands.

"Oh, you guys finally realized it too, that you can stop pretending?" he said and gave us a smile.

More confusion from Louis and Harry.

But soon all of them felt happy for us and we celebrated our love with a little celebration. How great "fake dating" can be…

[atlas-of-galaxies]

Keiji or Shin? (Ask game)

how do you make me choose between the two worst men ever

anyway. so shin tsukimi,

first impression - genuine hatred. not exaggerating in the slightest. I will forever sing yttd's opening scene's praises for perfectly priming the player to mistrust shin right off the bat, not only setting the tone of the game but also foreshadowing his own self-fulfilling prophecy of undoing because he's too scared to trust others. I fell for it easily, mistrusting him from the start and only hating him more every time he pulled one of his moves. impression now - .... um. he. grew on me. somewhere around the escape attempt on my first playthrough something started to give - I distinctly remember automatically high-fiving him only to stop and realize what the fuck I'd just done. by the time the logic/emotions choice rolled around, I was too curious to see where his character might go now that I actually sorta liked him just to let him die. favorite moment - "Sara!! You hated me from deep down, right?! Aren't I awful?!" <- my favorite line of that whole sequence, but it's also just SUCH a good part in general. shin and kanna, our logical and emotional beacons respectively, suddenly swap positions; shin appeals to sara's pathos, and kanna to her logos. idea for a story - ohhhh I want him to beat the odds and heal SOOO bad ... but also at the same time if he wanted to get worse and take everyone down, including himself, in a dramatic blaze of revenge and grief. I wouldn't complain. unpopular opinion - maybe not unpopular in my circle, but I do not like reading his relationship with Midori as romantic lol. weird ages and ... well, everything else aside, toxic friendships are something we don't see all too often in media, even though they can be quite common in reality. feels weird and uncomfortable to see it turned romantic. favorite relationship - I'm sorry greenblings but I Am Not Immune to Foils Characters. shin and sara are two I could chew on all day - each of them against this person they've concocted in their heads to be their enemy, while in reality they're both frightened people just trying to survive. I'll never tire of them. favorite headcanon - chronically ill shin is so canon in my heart I sorta forget it's not actually stated in-game tbh. I also really love him with a cane - I don't draw it enough.

[halfelven]

typical my life was fucked up stuff under the cut (csa)

i have quite high self esteem and self confidence which always surprises psychiatrists bc of my background but the thing is i don’t really know why i do? possibly out of spite? from pure necessity? byproduct of having to be as independent as i had to be?

i’m also not a people pleaser and i don’t really have social anxiety so it might stem from the idea that there was nothing i could do to get attention, affection, or help and the only person i could ever rely on was myself

i did use to hate myself and think a lot of the shit they told me about me was true, but i really like myself now and i don’t think my close friends all secretly hate me. i have to force myself to respect (good) authority and not think i’m better than other people. i think this probably does stem from the hyper independence. i also have to force myself to form attachments.

(this is one thing that i told my mother would happen to me in my ‘why i shouldn’t be this isolated’ presentations. i have referenced it in previous posts without admitting what it was since i don’t want to hurt people’s feelings by saying it is hard for me to form attachments or really care if someone stays in my life. it’s not consciously a choice to avoid hurt from people leaving, but it might be subconsciously that. i saw too many friends die as a child and then went into near total isolation and didn’t form any new relationships during a crucial time in child development—as i told my mother.)

i find it interesting how it is so different from what psychiatrists are expecting, but all my good drs have admitted there’s hardly any studies done on cases like mine, so there’s not that much to compare it to.

but my current dr doesn’t think i should do long distance therapy due to she thinks my therapist should closely monitor my body language and facial expressions.

(‘like what you’re doing with your hands,’ she says, as i glance down at how i’m twirling my thumbs round each other. i laugh since i knew that was one big thing she meant when she said it would be better in person. ‘yes, that makes sense, of course,’ i say. i smile at her, looking straight into her eyes and laugh again because i know the other thing she’s thinking and that we’re both not saying. ‘so much of trauma is held in the body,’ she says, ‘and long distance you can’t see more than the face. and you can’t mark changes.’ ‘of course,’ i agree.

i can’t remember our last appointment in february or the one before that in december. she tells me that both times i spoke clearly and was tidy and presentable. that she hadn’t noticed anything about me being completely gone. she asks if i was gone somewhere else. i truthfully tell her that i can’t remember most of the winter. nothing felt real and now most of it is dark.

she says i’m the perfect candidate for rehabilitation because i’m so driven and strong. that i need time to heal and establish myself. but i know what i want. i nod again. i know what i want. i don’t know who i am. she says my background was inhuman and inhumane. i nod and smile again. i haven’t smiled this much in weeks.

i tell her i’m glad i got the rehabilitation because i do know what i want and my studies will help me get it but i was scared that if i started therapy while expected to do full time studies i would just fall apart completely. ‘it’s going to be bad,’ i say. it’s going to get worse before it gets better. i push away images of inhuman cruelty that did not happen to me.

‘therapy is very hard,’ she says. ‘but it helps. no one would do it if it didn’t help. it’s too painful… unless they were extreme masochists!’ we both laugh. i have bruises running up my arm from bite marks.

i don’t get home before i break down crying in the park. i lean against a tree and cry. she’s telling me i’m getting real help, actual stability. i’m crying because that’s a mean joke to play on someone. it’s not real. and even if it were, i can’t grasp the concept of stability. i’ve never been able to plan my life more than a month ahead.

and nothing seems real anyway. i’m floating instead of actually stepping on the ground. i didn’t sleep last night and i have just come back from a funeral that reminded me that i have no one to turn to. it’s so warm, and it was still winter in the north. and i’m tired so all the light seems brighter.

nothing is real and i didn’t live through that hell. yesterday i read a sad, sad book and knew that it had to have happened. my denial, my memory working exactly like that. it couldn’t happen. it was too cruel. i couldn’t deny it longer. but today is real. of course it didn’t happen. nothing is real. i whisper old words in my mind, ‘this isn’t happening. this isn’t happening.’ so it didn’t happen. so it could never have happened. it wasn’t real then and it’s not real now.

and i fall apart for no reason, and they’re going to find out, and get mad at me for lying, and take away all my help and i’ll never be able to keep a job because i’m too dramatic and just want attention.

of course that’s not true. i know i couldn’t fake this. i’m too strong anyway. if it didn’t happen i would already have gone so far in life. become a surgeon or something. i’m too smart. too resourceful. too determined and independent and brave. it was something bad that made this. it just didn’t happen to me.

another doctor stared at me before and told me i had a fire inside me she had never seen before. and another doctor told me i had the strongest will he had ever seen. that sounds made up but it happened and i still don’t know what to think of it.

the one who called me strongest liked me so much that it was not at all professional. he told me that i was too self aware for him to be anything but entirely direct. and then he told me i was brilliant and had to go to grad school so my mind wouldn’t be wasted and that i would change the world. ((people who haven’t gotten off their computer in ten years will say it never happened.))

and i am sitting here today knowing that i have written a book that could probably help change the world. and it would also give my soul away, in a sense. it’s brutally raw and there’s not much that i’m hiding—there is some of course, but i would go insane if there wasn’t. and sure i’m brave. but am i that brave?

ever since i was a child i knew that i would always be hated. not because i was at my core entirely hateable but because i was always going to make so many enemies.

i heard their stories and what they wanted for the world, and i was going to make myself their enemy. an evil villain who they could focus some hatred on, get it away from people who didn’t want it. change others’ minds.

that’s not the part i’m scared of. it’s just going to be so hard to hear people who say they want to help csa victims say i survived wrong. coped wrong. got my sexuality wired wrong. and i’m not leaving that out because i know other people kill themselves over this. i’m sick of saying i’m sorry for being raped as an infant and coming out wrong. i’m not sorry.

i’m violent and angry. i’d like to torture him to death. and people say they want to do that for less. if you are stripped entirely of your pride and humanity what do you become?

at least he never broke me

[kingofdinosaurs]

20 through 25?

done some of these for gear but I'll go through for anything i wanna cover for other things!

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

uhh... can i say yu narukami's moveset in p4au? idk i just cannot get into him and it's genuinely sad to me because he's my favourite guy but his gameplay makes me so mad. like

idk.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

i... am well aware that i am often The Overhyper In Chief but even by my standards i think sometimes that people may be a little untruthful about how good p5r third semester actually is, and also just akechi in general. i don't even dislike the guy i just feel like people have put a lot of weight on him and i don't really... get it. like it's cool. 3rd semester is probably my favourite overall part of p5. maybe i just don't like p5 the way i used to. but i still think if you like akechi that much you should play other persona games and see if you feel that same connection there because there's quite a few guys who preceded him and i honestly like them better. this isn't even about sho, honest! this is about ken.

22. your favourite part of canon that everyone else ignores

this is the part where i do the ones ive already done for gear for other things! so obviously i have a lot of these. but i truly do believe that everyone should go like. watch a couple of the p4a story modes, then watch labrys', then go watch the endings then go read the ultimax manga or something (actually please PLEASE read the manga it's so good it's like the most complete package of the ultimax stories my only gripe is that it doesn't really give labrys much spotlight because it follows the p4 path). it's so fucking good i won't even force you to play a fighting game if you don't want to just. actually like experience the story labrys is from and draw some actually relevant art of her pulling from that new understanding! I'm STARVING! it's all just her standing somewhere in a generally cheery way i can't TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! GET TO KNOW HER! SHE IS MORE THAN A PRETTY FACE!!!

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

... i wouldn't say SHIP, because i tend to view it as totally one-sided and a pipe dream in the story as well as out, but i find hazama/ragna really funny now as like a crush that hazama tries to bring up to him once, chickens out on, tells him something else, and is met with a "oh thank god. i thought you were gonna confess your love to me or something." and that's just the breaking point, hazama kills that part of himself immediately and never brings it up again because he's too embarrassed

24. skipping this one because i already answered it and i got nothing

25. common fandom complaint you're sick of hearing

i... think i also answered this one someplace? well whatever. i get being annoyed that they lean on the protein joke a lot for akihiko, but can you guys give the rest of his characterisation in that game a fucking chance!!! so fucking SICK of people going "wah wah akihiko got worse again after making that promise when shinji died" like wow maybe recovery isn't linear! maybe i think it kind of rocks that he wasn't just fixed and better! he lost yet another person and his response was to throw himself into anything he could to avoid thinking about it, and i think this makes sense for him and is a pretty decent way to handle the fact that he... sort of needs to have a storyline ingame? which needs conflict? anyway everyone leave me and postcanon akihiko alone in a room for a while. you are all scaring him.