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sailor-aviator · 3 days

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By Its Cover: Chapter Four

By Its Cover: Chapter Four

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Bickering, Arguing, Cursing (or almost), Reader feels sorry for herself somewhat, Reader disaparages herself, Heart to hearts with mom, Slight putting down of other girls (more comparing herself to others), Secret notes, Flattery, and general angst. I think that convers everything, but please let me know if I forgot anything!

Word Count: 3.45k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

You rushed up the stairs to change for dinner, already hearing Georgie prattling on about something or other. Nora was hot on your tail, nearly running into you as you tripped over your skirts. You let out a huff as you gathered them in your hands, practically sprinting down the hall, and you counted yourself lucky that your mother was already down in the dining hall.

“Quick, Nora,” you called over your shoulder, stumbling to a stop in front of your open door. You skittered inside as Nora closed the door behind the two of you, the maid turning quickly to the clothespress, already prying open the many drawers as you stripped down.

“The blue dress, miss?” Nora asked, showing you the powder blue fabric. You nodded, padding over so she could slip the garment over your head. You changed your shoes, Nora fixing your hair as best she could as you flitted about the room.

The note hidden inside your book was still at the forefront of your mind as you rushed down the stairs after a parting thank you to your maid. The conversation around the table was as lively as ever, Georgie regaling everyone with the latest gossip from around the Island. You stopped short in the doorway upon seeing Lord Seresin, having forgotten momentarily that he had been invited. His jade green eyes snapped over to where you stood, a spark alighting upon seeing you. You sucked in a breath, your nerves aflutter. The conversation from earlier that day ran through your mind, and your lips turned downwards before you could stop them. You squared your shoulders, marching toward your seat on the opposite side of the table—just across from the handsome lord.

“Bug,” your mother greeted, disapproval over your tardiness crystal clear in her tone as she watched you sit. “How good of you to finally join us.”

“Apologies for being late,” you offered quietly, glancing around the table. Your mother’s disapproval was clear on her face just as curiosity was evident on both your brother’s and Lord Seresin’s. Georgie shot you an irritated scowl, her displeasure at the attention no longer being on her quite clear as well. You cleared your throat, hanging your head in a poor attempt to hide. You could feel all eyes on you, and you fidgeted with your fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as the servants entered the room with the first course.

The dishes clattered against one another as they were set at each place setting. The savory scent of the soup had your stomach letting out a loud growl, and a snort had your gaze moving upwards.

Lord Seresin his smile—poorly you might add—behind his hand as he feigned a cough. Your brow twitched as a sudden wave of irritation came over you, and you set your lips in a firm line as you glared at him.

Georgiana had begun relaying her gossip once more, her voice droning on as you shifted your focus back towards food.

You ate in silence as the evening passed, William and Lord Seresin speaking about business matters, your mother regaling the table with her charity ventures, and your sister doing her best to prove that she’d be the ideal wife for the eligible lord. Every so often you would feel eyes on you, and you did your best to ignore the sensation, making a point to look anywhere but across the table.

“It’s good to see that you’re feeling better, Bug.”

You looked up with wide eyes to see Lord Seresin sporting a cocky-looking smirk, his chin resting on his folded hands as he studied you.

“I beg your pardon?” You asked, brow furrowing in confusion. Lord Seresin tilted his head at you, smirk still in place.

“You mentioned feeling ill earlier today,” he prodded. “Then you left so suddenly that one could only presume it must have been serious.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as his eyes flashed at you.

“Yet,” he purred, “here you are.”

You swallowed thickly, your fork hovering over your plate as your skin warmed.

“Yes, well,” you stuttered, clearing your throat, “I’m sorry if I caused you to worry, my lord, but it was only a headache.”

“Must have been a rather nasty headache,” he pressed. You were vaguely aware of the gazes of both your brother and mother shifting between the two of you warily. “The way you ran out of the park, I can only assume that it must have been agonizing.”

You bristled. What was he playing at? He knows why you left the park as quickly as you did, and yet he seemed determined to hear you say it. Georgie continued prattling on about something or other, and you sat up a little straighter in your chair. You set your jaw, lips pressed firmly together as you gave the blond a rather cold stare that only seemed to make him grin wider.

“It was, my lord,” you responded, ice dripping from your tone. “It was the nastiest headache I’ve ever had. I suppose you could even call it a real pain in my-”

“Bug!” Your mother exclaims, shooting you a wide-eyed glare as her eyes flicker towards the duke as your brother covers a snort with a feigned cough. Georgie stops her chattering at the outburst, eyes narrowing as she finally takes in the scene before her. You know you’re in for her raving later with the way she fixes a conspicuous glare in your direction. You can’t back down though—not to the arrogant bastard still smirking at you from across the table. He quirks a brow at you, seemingly in challenge as he speaks.

“Such language from a young lady of the Island,” he smirked. You clench your teeth so hard, you swear they’ll break.

“Well,” you sneered, cutting into your meal and avoiding his eyes, “as I was so dutifully reminded earlier today, I am nothing more than a silly, little girl who will be lucky to even find a match.”

The room is silent as you finish. Your mother’s brow is furrowed in concern as your brother frowns, sparing you a glance before fixing a confused glare on his friend. If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under with how Georgie glared at you, and Lord Seresin. A strange ache in your chest blossomed as you glanced up at him. The smirk was long gone, and a look of consternation adored his handsome features. Slowly, you placed your cutlery on your plate, clearing your throat and turning your attention towards your mother.

“My apologies,” you offered, a tight-lipped smile on your face as you rested a hand against your stomach. “It appears that I am not feeling as well as I previously thought. Might I retire for the evening?”

Your mother blinked owlishly at you. “Oh, um, yes. Of course.”

You were already on your feet and halfway towards the door by the time she finished. Lord Seresin called after you, but you refused to acknowledge him as you traipsed up the stairs.

“Don’t mind her, my lord,” you heard Georgiana’s voice echo up to you. “She’s always causing some kind of commotion around here. It’s best to just ignore her and carry on.”

Tears stung at your eyes as you cleared the landing. You didn’t know why your sister’s words stung as much as they did. It wasn’t like you weren’t used to her barbs at you, but something about them being offered to the man you once adored so much as a small child had the tears spilling over onto your cheeks in a matter of seconds. You wiped at your face furiously with the backs of your hands, waving Nora off with a wave of your hands and a shake of your head. She offered you a sympathetic look as you retreated into your room with a click as the door shut behind you.

You tore off your dress haphazardly, hiccuping sobs escaping you as you pulled your night dress over your head. Why were you so upset? You knew what people in society whispered about you behind your back. You were no great beauty like Lydia, nor were you elegant like Theodosia. You certainly didn’t know how to capture and command a room like Georgiana. You were…you. You were bookish and uninterested in frivolous things like the latest fashions. You weren’t concerned with your looks like most other ladies. You knew this about yourself, prided yourself in it even.

So why did the thought that Lord Seresin might view you in such a disparaging way make you want to break down all over again?

Your eyes were puffy and swollen long after you had managed to stop crying, yet you still sat on the bench by your window, watching the flickering flames of the candles in the streetlamps. Your back ached from sitting in the same position for so long, and yet you refused to move. You sat there long enough for a numbing sensation to crawl up your hand and into your arm from where you were pressed so tightly against the glass.

A knock sounded at the door, and you startled.

“Please, Nora,” you called out. “I just want to be alone right now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The door creaked open, the light from the hallway filtering through the crack in the door as you let out a frustrated huff.

“Nora, I-” You stopped short as you whipped your head around to see your mother peering around the door at you.

“Oh,” you blinked, narrowing your eyes against the light. “It’s you, Mama.”

“Well, don’t sound so excited to see me,” she teased lightly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. You watched as she surveyed the room, a crinkle on her brow to match the purse of her lips.

“It’s so dark in here,” she tsked, moving to light one of the lamps. You didn’t reply, used to your mother going about and doing as she pleased. You wondered if that’s where Georgiana got it from.

“There,” she smiled as the candlelight flickered along the panes of the wall. You curled in on yourself as she turned to fix her smile upon you. “Much better, wouldn’t you say?”

Again, you didn’t reply. You simply waited for her to say what she came in to say. Her smile faltered after a moment of silence, and she let out a weary sigh as you continued to stare.

“Sweetheart,” she started, walking over to sit next to you. You pulled your legs closer to you in order to allow her room, and she sat with a gentle hand on your knee. She hesitated, seeming to mull over what it was she wanted to say.

“Just spit it out,” you mumbled. “I already know I’m a disappointment to you.”

Her eyes widened before a look of confusion crossed her face.

“Darling, why ever would you think that?”

“It’s obvious,” you snapped back, but there was no real bite to your tone. The ache from before returned with a vengeance, and tears welled in your eyes once more. “I’m not like everyone else. I’m not beautiful or graceful or charming. I’m temperamental, bookish, and pig-headed. I’m-”

You stopped, sucking in a deep breath as the tears threatened to spill over. You blew out the breath shakily as you wiped at your eyes.

“I’m something…to be settled for,” you finished, averting your gaze down to the floor. There was a moment’s pause before your mother took your hand.

“Oh, my darling girl,” she cooed, pulling you close to wrap her arms around you. You allowed her to maneuver you, leaning your head against her chest as you listened to her heartbeat.

“You are not temperamental, you’re passionate. You’re bookish, but my dear you are so beautiful as well. You are inquisitive and mindful, and kind, and certainly not something to be settled for,” she told you as she stroked your hair soothingly. You sniffled, raising your head to look at her.

“What about pig-headed?”

“Oh, well,” she chuckled, hugging you a little tighter. “I’m afraid you are rather pig-headed, sweetheart. It’s something you inherited from your father.”

You clicked your tongue at her, but couldn’t stop the smile that worked its way onto your face as you inhaled her scent. It was the familiar, comforting smell of lavender and fresh linen, and for a moment you were a child again, seeking comfort in the steady presence of your mother.

“Now,” she sighed, “what seems to be going on between you and Lord Seresin.”

You balked at the question, pulling away to fix her with a scowl.

“Absolutely nothing,” you asserted with a roll of your eyes. “He’s an arrogant, self-righteous bastard.”

Your mother gave you a look at your profanity, but didn’t comment on it.

“It seems that the two of you have,” she paused, “quite an interesting dynamic.”

“If you mean the kind where we can’t stand each other, then I suppose you’re correct,” you sniffed. Your mother fixed you with a dubious look.

“That’s not how it appears to me or anyone else,” she pressed.

“And what, pray tell, is everyone else seeing?” You asked with another roll of your eyes.

“Darling,” she snickered, “it’s quite clear to anyone with eyes that the duke is smitten with you.”

You laughed at that. Lord Seresin smitten with someone like you? It was absolutely a laughable thought. The man was arrogant and smug, of course, but you weren’t fool enough to believe that he wasn’t handsome and the most eligible bachelor of the season. Your laughter died down, a frown fixing on your face as you took in your mother’s serious expression.

“Mama,” you scoffed. “He’s most certainly not interested in me. The man can hardly stand me. If anything, he sees me as the same silly, little girl he was saddled with years ago.”

“I don’t believe that’s true,” she countered quickly. “I think you’ve misjudged the situation-”

“Besides,” you cut her off. “It’s Georgiana who will be his wife. She’s interested and clearly the perfect match for someone like him.”

Your mother’s brow furrowed at your words before she shook her head.

“No, my darling,” she insisted. “Georgiana wants someone who will dote on her and give in to her every whim. Someone who will spoil her with finest silks and pearls. I rather doubt she’ll find that in a match with Lord Seresin.”

“And how would you know?”

“A mother knows everything, Dearest,” she smirked, patting your knee gently. “A mother knows what’s best for her children. She sees her children’s faults and virtues, and she loves them all the more for both. She sees what will make her children happy, even if they themselves don’t see it at the moment.”

You watched as she rose from the bench, leaning down to place a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get some rest, Little Bug,” she told you, heading toward the door. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”

You sat with your mother’s words for some time. You couldn’t piece together why she was so convinced that Lord Seresin had any feelings other than contempt when it came to you. The image of his smug smirk at dinner flashed in your mind for a brief moment, and your frown deepened as you remembered the blatant challenge he had issued you.

It truly was amazing how easily one person could get under your skin so easily. Why he had such an effect on you was far beyond the scope of your knowledge, and you supposed that some people just had that way about them when it came to others.

The candlelight still flickered against the far wall, and it wasn’t until you heard your sister’s door close just down the hall that you finally moved from your position by the window. You padded slowly over towards the desk where the candle stood, watching the flame flicker and dance as you attempted to collect your thoughts. Closing your eyes, you let your head tip back, feeling your confusion give way to apprehension at the thought of the parading you would have to do tomorrow. Once again, you were reminded of how different the two of you were.

Georgie basked in every bit of attention thrown her way whether it was the admiration and desire from potential suitors or the envy of her competition. You, however, loathed the spotlight and preferred to spend your time locked away in your studio or the library. For a moment, you wondered if you could convince your mother to let you stay home the next day to work on your art rather than prance around the park in your sister’s shadow once more.

You opened your eyes to stare at the ceiling, letting out a long sigh as you slowly brought your gaze back down towards the desk. It was then that your eyes flickered to rest on the paper that had taken up your attention earlier that evening. Your brow furrowed once more as you chewed on your bottom lip, fingers dancing along the edge of the desk before snatching the paper up and unfolding it to reveal the scrawl etched inside.

Fairest lady,

The way of words is perhaps not my greatest strength, however I would find myself in the depths of deepest regret were I not to impart upon you the feelings that grip me so thoroughly and to my very soul.

When I saw you amongst the flowers this afternoon, it was like the very breath within me had been stolen. As I gazed upon you, the sun itself appeared to grow dim, as if it realized it paled in comparison to the very image of yourself.

But, it is not only your beauty that I have great fondness for, lady. Much like the heroine of this book you find yourself in possession of, you do not conform to the ideals of women that have been presented to you. No, you make your own path in this world, and for that I admire you greatly.

I should like to hear your thoughts on this novel once you finish it, but I should like to read your words before then. I thought it pertinent to return this book to you, and so I had a boy return it to your home. If you should like, you may reply to me in kind and leave your note by the same fountain underneath the flower pot nearest the exit. If I do not find a reply within the week, I shall know that you are not interested.

I wait in anticipation of your reply, my lady.

Robyn

You read over the note once more, teeth gnawing on the inside of your cheek as you pondered what to do. You had no knowledge of anyone named Robyn, and so you could only assume that it was a moniker of some kind. You wondered what gentleman in your sphere would have taken the time to read such a book as Northanger Abbey, taking the time to dissect the themes and elements beyond the initial glance.

Certainly no man you knew.

Now, you wondered if you should reply. If you were caught passing notes, it could stir up a scandal for your family, no matter how innocent the notes seemed. It could also be a trick that one of the meaner ladies of the Island was trying to pull. You weren’t sure you could handle being the subject of yet another joke.

Still, you had always been a curious creature, and the thought of not knowing who this person was something you couldn’t stand to let pass. You plucked a quill pen from one of the drawers, preparing it before sitting down to pen your reply.

Robyn,

You speak of me as if you know me, and yet I do not know anyone with your name or even one who uses words such as yours. You intrigue me, Robyn, and I should like to know more about you if we are to exchange letters concerning our thoughts to one another. For much like Catherine Morland, I too have a fondness for stories and fantastical ideas. I only wish that they not be advertised or used against me more than they already are at present.

Can I trust that you will not use my words against me in the future? I find it rather hard to put my trust in someone when I do not know who they are. Might you tell me some things about yourself?

I await your reply,

Lady Sinclair

A/N: And here's an update for you all! I know I just ran a poll, but I might update Fool's Fare next just because I'm pretty far into it already. But then I'll update Hanging By a Moment! Can't believe it's actually winning, I thought I'd never see this day again, but I knew Jake and Scout would have their time in the sun again!! Anyway, what do we think so far?? Are Bug and Lord Seresin going to make amends, or are they doomed to hate each other? Who is Robyn? What do they want with Bug??

Also, just a reminder that I've started my travel season for the semester, so updates should actually be a little more frequent despite what you'd think. I've got a lot of time to hang out in hotel rooms coming up lol

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

#bic #by its cover #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you

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cosmicconversations · 1 day

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Thoughts On Libra (Sun, Moon, Rising) 😍

LIBRA SUN

Those with the Sun in Libra are interesting people. They have complex personalities but tend to hide that behind some sort of veneer they think is acceptable. But, they are generally not phony people. In fact, they are the least likely to fit the stereotypical “fake nice” Libra mold. Many of them are quite assertive and have no issue fighting back or standing their ground. However, they will default to whatever they think is fair. But, fairness can mean convicting a criminal and sending them to prison. Libra Suns are like judges. They make objective and impartial assessments and they know how to get people to listen to them. If they are ever harsh, it is usually warranted. But, they can also become overly fixated on the idea of “justice”, which can make them a bitter enemy to have or bring out a vindictive streak. Relationships matter a lot to them but largely because they feel like others need them. Kind of like Cancer, they need to be needed; not so much emotionally but more so to give feedback, validation, and encouragement. When they are younger or not so self-aware, they may project this role on to others, feeling like they are the ones who need other people to thrive. But, no. They are the ones who keep their loved ones balanced. In a romantic context, they are the strong man/woman behind their partner. (But, they deserve the same support in return!) Their famous flaky or noncommittal streak can stem from insecurities regarding the pressure of being that support system. If they don’t see the value of their partnership or presence in others’ lives, they can become avoidant in response.

LIBRA MOON

Libra Moons have a hard time telling the difference between their need to keep the peace and their insecurities. An essential insecurity of theirs is being disliked or having someone else reject them. At the same time, it is hard for them to be fully honest with themselves about their emotions or motives. So, they may convince themselves that they are being thoughtful or kind when they are really just avoiding conflict or suppressing their needs or ignoring deeper feelings. It might seem like it doesn’t take much to make them happy. But, sometimes, they don’t actually know what makes them happy. Moon in Libra people tend to kiss the ground their mom/mother figure walks on. They put this parent on a pedestal and can struggle to acknowledge their actual issues with her. Doing so can give them major inner child healing they didn’t know they needed. They have to realize their needs matter, too! Many people with this Moon sign are very, very sweet and thoughtful. They feel very fulfilled by acts of kindness toward others and will go out of their way to make their family or friends or significant other feel special and loved. They are sensitive but in a more intellectual way. As Air Moons, it can be harder for them to grasp the emotional nuances of situations. Yet, they will always be there with a comforting word or a listening ear. But, less evolved or mature people with this placement could expect others to always be there for them or see their point of view while failing to realize they don’t give them the same consideration or support. Avoiding accountability can be their way of avoiding possible rejection.

LIBRA RISING

So, I agree. I think Libra Risings are really pretty. But, it is not just a physical thing, although it can be for many. With Venus influencing their Rising sign, a lot of them are blessed with a facial harmony and lovely features that go beyond genetics. Your energy and aura affect your appearance. So, since Libra Rising has such a lovely aura and energy, it is like they were just meant to be pleasing to look at. But, their overall vibe is highly attractive, as well. Without even trying, they charm and endear and win people over in any given situation. Most Libra Risings are never single, either always jumping from one relationship to the next or spending most of their life in a major connection, for better or worse. Select people with this placement may spend long periods single but still live their lives in ways that put others at the center, like being of service or always being there for the people they love. A fixation on fashion or passion for art can be other ways they strive to bring beauty or happiness to others. Let’s be honest, though. Some people with this placement can be horrifically fake. Not all of them, though. I feel like there are three types of Libra Risings. The first type has a “niceness” that is largely a facade, smiling in your face but then talking shit behind your back or being secretly manipulative. The second kind is genuinely super-sweet and caring, to the point where they either need to get better at asserting themselves or making sure others don’t take advantage of them. The first kind can often present themselves as the second but their true colors are eventually revealed. And the third type can be a little blunt and “tell it like it is” but only because they want others to do the same for them. So, they are treating them how they wanted to be treated. This is part of their charm and, in spite of their potential harshness, they are very likable and kindhearted.

#astrology #astro observations #astro community #astro notes #libra #libra placements #libra season #libra sun #sun in libra #libra moon #moon in libra #libra rising #libra ascendant

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kookiewithluv · 17 hours

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✿—✧SPACE BETWEEN US✧—✿

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: college au, friends to lovers, fluffy (?), angst

Trigger warning: it's super cringe!

Word count: 9k

Summary: You have been in love with Jungkook for ages but never said anything. When a surprise date turns into a dramatic showdown, his hidden feelings come crashing to the surface.

a/n: The characters and situations depicted in this chapter are fictional and are intended for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The portrayal of emotions and interpersonal dynamics is a creative interpretation and should not be taken as a reflection of real-life relationships or events.a/n: Do not use this story as your own. I don't allow translations or reposting of my work on any platform, including YouTube.

a/n: Yes, you're probably experiencing déjà vu—I'm reposting this without a single edit. After my last account got suspended for reasons beyond my control, I figured what better way to kick off my return than by sharing one of my cringiest fanfics? Honestly, it's pretty on-brand for me, don't you think?

@kookiewithluv 2024

You sat in your classroom, the hum of idle chatter around you barely registering. The lecture wouldn’t start for another thirty minutes, but you couldn’t care less. You just needed to be alone. The weight of recent events pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you numb and confused. Your mind raced, thoughts tangled in a mess you couldn’t unravel.

Your phone vibrated on the desk, the screen lighting up with notifications. You glanced at it: 200+ texts and 28 missed calls from Jungkook. Without a second thought, you picked up the phone, turned it off, and set it back down. You didn’t want to deal with it, with him, with anything. Time seemed to blur as you sat there, your heart aching, your eyes glassy. But the tears wouldn’t come. They just sat there, stuck, like everything else inside you.

“Blush? Blush, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he spoke beside you.

You flinched, startled out of your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed him sit down. Turning to face him, you were met with a sight that made your chest tighten. He looked so soft, so pretty in that moment—his pink lips curved into a worried pout, his hair falling messily over his forehead, half-covering those big doe eyes that seemed to shine even more because of it.

He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, and called your name again. “Blush,” he said, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a quiet prayer. But you knew better. You did.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. You just shook your head and forced a small smile, turning away. What were you supposed to say? That you were what was wrong? That you’d fallen for him, knowing he’d never be there to catch you? The words were right there, lodged in your throat, but you swallowed them down, feeling them settle heavy and painful in your stomach. The ache clawed at your insides, begging for release, but you took a deep breath, holding everything in.

Jungkook was still watching you, his gaze piercing through the walls you were trying so hard to build. He gently cupped your face, turning you back to look at him. “Eyes on me. I’m talking,” he said, his tone soft but firm. The way his thumb brushed your cheek was so tender it almost broke you.

“You should—” he began, but the classroom door creaked open, and students started to file in, breaking the moment. He pulled back, checking the time, and you followed his gaze. Just as you both expected, Professor Min walked in, signaling the start of class. Relief washed over you, grateful for the distraction, for the escape. You silently thanked Mr. Min for his impeccable timing.

As the lesson began, you tried to focus, but your mind kept drifting back to Jungkook, to the conversation you’d narrowly avoided. Your chest felt tight, your heart heavy, but you pushed it all down, forcing yourself to stay composed.

The class went on, but all you could think about was how close you’d come to spilling everything. And how you still couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Class ended earlier than expected. Mr. Min had cut the lecture short, saying he had something urgent to attend to. The moment his words left the room, you were already packing up, hands moving frantically as you stuffed your notebook and pens into your bag. Your movements were jerky, almost desperate, as if the faster you moved, the quicker you could escape.

Jungkook was right beside you, his presence heavy like a storm cloud about to break. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel his gaze, those eyes you usually found so comforting now burning holes into you. As you zipped up your bag, you felt his fingers twitch, like he was about to reach out, but you didn’t give him the chance.

You bolted for the door, your steps quick and purposeful. Just as you reached the threshold, his voice—a smooth, velvety sound that usually made your heart skip—called out your name.

“Blush,” he said, soft and hopeful.

But you didn’t stop. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t even acknowledge him. For the first time, you ran away from him. Your heart hammered in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of what you were doing, but you couldn’t stop.

The hallway blurred as you hurried through it, eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to look back. You knew he was still there, standing in the doorway, probably confused, maybe even hurt. But you couldn’t deal with that now. You just needed to be alone.

When you reached the canteen, you went straight to the farthest corner, away from the clusters of students laughing and chatting. You dropped into a chair, slumping down as you pulled the hood of Jungkook’s hoodie over your head, trying to hide from the world. Your hands fiddled with the hem of the hoodie, twisting and tugging at the fabric as if it could somehow ground you, make everything go away.

You curled in on yourself, your head bowed low, eyes fixed on your trembling hands. The familiar scent of Jungkook still clung to the hoodie, but instead of comfort, it brought a fresh wave of pain. You bit your lip, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill over.

In that moment, the bustling canteen felt a million miles away. All you could focus on was the way your heart ached, the way it felt like something inside you was slowly breaking apart. You wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything to release the pressure building up inside you, but instead, you just sat there, hiding beneath the hoodie that was his, trying to hold yourself together, trying to breathe.

You were drowning in your thoughts, the noise around you fading into nothingness. A voice yanked you back to reality, snapping the delicate thread of your spiralling mind. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

A light touch on your shoulder—soft, almost hesitant—tried to pull your attention. She already had it, though she didn’t realize it, because you still hadn’t looked at her. She stood to your left, leaning in slightly.

“Are you okay?” Lilith asked, her voice laced with concern. You kept your eyes down, refusing to meet hers.

Lilith. The campus beauty queen. The girl everyone adored. The girl who loved Jungkook. And everyone knew it, too. They rooted for them to be together, whispering about how perfect they’d be. The thought made your stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in your mouth. You hated it.

She continued, her tone gentle but insistent. “Jungkookie is worried about you. He was searching everywhere for you. You should talk to him. Should I call him—”

Your blood boiled at the sound of that nickname. Jungkookie. He hated that name, had told you so many times how much he despised it but never her. she kept calling him that, oblivious or maybe just indifferent. You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms as you struggled to keep your anger in check.

“No,” you practically yelled, the word bursting out before you could stop it. Lilith flinched, her eyes wide with shock. She pulled her hand back, her fingers twitching nervously. But you didn’t care. You didn’t feel guilty. All you felt was anger—anger at yourself for losing control, and a burning hatred for her.

Without another word, you grabbed your bag, roughly shoving it over your shoulder as you pushed past her. She stumbled back slightly, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, but you didn’t give her the chance. You stormed out of the canteen, your chest heaving with frustration.

The fresh air outside did little to calm you. You headed straight for the parking area, your steps quick and determined, each one pounding out the anger inside you. When you reached your car, you spotted it immediately and hurried over, yanking the door open.

You slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind you. For a moment, you just sat there, your breathing harsh and uneven. Then, with a frustrated groan, you tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, not caring where it landed. Everything felt too tight, too overwhelming. You buried your face in your hands, your fingers curling into your hair as you tried to steady yourself.

But the anger wouldn’t leave, wouldn’t let go. It bubbled just beneath the surface, a constant, throbbing ache that wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t ease. And all you could think about was how much you wished it would just disappear. How much you wished everything would just disappear.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to push all the swirling thoughts out of your head. With a quick motion, you pressed down on the accelerator, and the car roared to life beneath you. You didn’t hesitate as you started driving, focusing on the road ahead, wanting to leave everything behind.

But as you drove away, something caught your eye in the rearview mirror. Jungkook. He was running after your car, his face a mix of desperation and panic. You could see his mouth moving, probably yelling your name, but the sound was lost to the roar of the engine and the rush of blood in your ears. You didn’t stop. You didn’t even slow down. You just kept going, watching as he grew smaller and smaller in the mirror until he disappeared from view.

The ride home was anything but peaceful. The guilt gnawed at you, sinking its claws deeper with every passing mile. You tried to push it away, to convince yourself that you were right to leave, that you needed space. But the image of Jungkook’s face, the way he’d run after you, wouldn’t leave your mind. You’d ignored him all day, and you knew it must’ve hurt him. But you shook your head, refusing to dwell on it. You couldn’t handle that right now.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, the silence of your empty house greeted you. You parked the car in the garage, the engine’s hum dying down as you cut the power. The quiet was suffocating as you walked into the house, the echo of your footsteps bouncing off the walls. Your parents weren’t home. Again. Even though they had promised they would be. You let out a bitter chuckle, shaking your head at your own foolishness. Why did I even believe them? you thought. It was your birthday tomorrow, and once again, they weren’t there. Meetings, parties—whatever it was, it was always more important.

You made your way to the living room and sank down onto the couch, turning on the TV in a half-hearted attempt to distract yourself. But nothing on the screen held your attention. The images blurred together, the voices just white noise in the background. Your mind was too cluttered, too full of everything that had happened today, to make sense of anything playing out in front of you.

Frustrated, you got up and headed to your room, the emptiness of the house pressing down on you with every step. You didn’t have the energy to cook, the thought of food making your stomach twist. “Guess I’ll sleep hungry tonight,” you muttered to yourself, a hollow laugh escaping your lips.

You collapsed onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own breathing. But sleep didn’t come. No matter how much you tossed and turned, your mind wouldn’t quiet down. Thoughts of Jungkook, your parents, the loneliness that seemed to cling to you like a shadow—it all kept swirling in your head, refusing to let you rest.

You curled up under the covers, pulling them tightly around you as if they could shield you from the thoughts that wouldn’t leave you alone. But no matter how hard you tried, the weight of the day wouldn’t let you go. And so, you lay there, eyes wide open, the darkness around you feeling like a reflection of the emptiness inside.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as the room was cloaked in darkness. The silence around you was heavy, oppressive, and as the memory of the day crashed down on you, the tears began to flow uncontrollably, streaming down your face at an unusual speed.

Tomorrow was supposed to be special—your birthday. Even if your parents weren’t around, you’d convinced yourself that Jungkook’s presence would make it memorable. This morning, you’d been brimming with excitement. But all of that shattered the moment you stepped onto the college campus.

The crowd had been the first thing you noticed—a sea of students gathered in an unusually large cluster. Your curiosity had drawn you toward it, and you’d squeezed through the masses, pushing past eager onlookers until you reached the front. What you saw made your heart sink.

Lilith and Jungkook stood there, framed by the throng of students. Lilith held a bouquet of flowers, her face radiant with a hopeful smile as she offered it to him. The sight was enough to tell you what was happening. She was proposing. Your heart twisted with a mix of dread and hope as you watched Jungkook. He looked visibly distressed, his hands trembling slightly as he took the bouquet. A flicker of hope ignited in you that he might reject her, but the moment he accepted the flowers, that hope was dashed. The crowd erupted in cheers, and your heart shattered into pieces.

As if the scene couldn't get any worse, it did. The crowd began chanting, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” The noise was deafening, each cheer driving the knife of betrayal deeper into your heart. Jungkook’s face flushed with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. He grabbed Lilith’s hand and tugged her away from the crowd, leading her toward a more private corner. You knew it wasn’t about him not wanting to kiss her in public; it was about him wanting to keep those private moments just for himself, away from prying eyes.

Recalling the memory now, as tears flowed freely and uncontrollably, your heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. The image of Jungkook’s nervous expression and Lilith’s hopeful eyes replayed in your mind, each scene a fresh cut. The darkness of your room mirrored the darkness in your heart, the weight of the day’s events pressing down on you with crushing force.

You clutched the pillow to your chest, your sobs muffled but relentless. Each breath came in shaky bursts, and you could feel the tears soaking through the fabric. The tears and the pain were all-consuming, leaving you with nothing but the hollow ache of rejection and betrayal. The silence of the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of your own brokenhearted sobs.

It’s funny how quickly things change. The person who once made your heart flutter with joy now seemed to be the source of all your misery. But it wasn’t his fault. He had no idea of your feelings. You never told him, and now you were left with nothing but regret.

The minutes dragged on with torturous slowness. The clock still hadn’t hit 10, and you were restless, your body aching from the weight of your emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, and closed your eyes, hoping to find some semblance of peace. Yet, amid the turmoil, a small spark of hope flickered within you. Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook would call when the clock struck midnight. Maybe, as he had done in the past, he would stand on your doorstep with a big bouquet of daisies, because he knew how much you loved them.

Hope brought with it a tangled mess of uncertainty and fear. Part of you desperately wished for him to come, to see him standing there with that familiar, warm smile. But another part of you feared what that would mean. If he showed up, you knew you might not be able to hold yourself back. The thought of begging him to love you, to confess your feelings, terrified you. You wanted nothing more than to be happy for your best friend, the one you loved with all your heart, without letting your own desires ruin his moment.

As these conflicting thoughts swirled in your mind, you became increasingly aware of the exhaustion that weighed down on you. Your body, worn out from the emotional rollercoaster, finally succumbed to sleep. You hadn’t noticed when the weariness took over, but soon you were drifting off, your breathing evening out as the turbulent storm of your mind began to settle into a restless slumber.

The harsh buzz of the alarm clock jolted you awake. You reached out with a groggy hand to silence it, grumbling under your breath. As you blinked your eyes open, a dull ache throbbed in your head, and you winced at the sting of light. Your eyes felt like they were weighed down by sandbags, red and swollen from hours of restless sleep.

With a groan, you rolled out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom. Each step felt heavy, your body dragging as if weighed down by an invisible burden. You shuffled into the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror with a sense of numb resignation. The sight that met you was far from flattering. Your hair was a tangled mess, and your face was puffy and pale. You let out a shaky breath, your reflection mocking you. "Happy birthday, ugly," you muttered to yourself, bitterness lacing your voice.

You turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto your face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the night’s tears. The brisk water was invigorating but did little to lift the fog in your mind. You brushed your teeth mechanically, the familiar routine providing a small comfort. As you stepped into the shower, the warm water hit your skin, but it did little to soothe the ache inside you.

Your thoughts kept drifting back to Jungkook. You’d hoped he’d come by, as he used to, or at least send a message. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear you were wrong. You chuckled bitterly at your own foolishness.

He hadn’t called.

Not even a text.

It was as if you’d been erased from his life, replaced by someone new.

Finishing up in the shower, you turned off the water and stepped out, feeling cold despite the warmth of the steam. You walked to your closet with a heavy heart and pulled on a simple white tee and blue baggy jeans. You chose a pair of Jordan shoes, not because you don't felt like dressing up, but because you couldn’t muster the energy for anything more. The effort felt pointless when it seemed no one remembered or cared about your birthday.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you dressed, and the image reflected the hollow ache you felt inside. With a resigned sigh, you walked out of your room, ready to face another day, feeling like a forgotten afterthought.

You hurried out of your house, barely pausing to lock the door behind you. The cold morning air bit at your cheeks as you slid into the driver's seat of your car. Your movements were mechanical, driven by a deep-seated weariness. You started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, the rumble of the car filling the silence of your thoughts.

As you drove to college, Jungkook’s image was a persistent shadow in your mind. Each turn of the wheel seemed to echo with memories of him—his laughter, his smile, and the sting of his absence. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, as you fought to keep your emotions in check. There was an undercurrent of nervousness you couldn’t quite place, a fluttering uncertainty that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t define.

The drive felt endless, each minute dragging by as you replayed yesterday’s events. By the time you pulled into the college parking lot, you were nearly suffocating with frustration and sadness. You parked your car with swift, jerky movements, almost slamming the gearshift into park.

Stepping out of the car, you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the melancholy that clung to you. The walk from the parking lot to the campus felt like a trek through a fog. Your eyes were downcast, your footsteps heavy as you made your way through the bustling campus. You barely registered the chatter and movement around you, lost in your own turmoil.

You finally reached the canteen, its familiar smell of coffee and breakfast foods mixing with the lingering bitterness in your heart. As you pushed through the doors, the chatter and clatter of trays and dishes surrounded you, but you barely noticed. You moved through the crowded room, shoulders hunched, eyes focused on the path ahead. Finding a spot at a table, you sank into a chair, tossing your bag on the table, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you, as if the whole world was a muted blur around you.

You took a deep breath, getting up and walking to the counter, eyes scanning the options in front of you. The canteen menu was as uninspiring as ever, but hunger gnawed at your stomach, reminding you of your own laziness for not cooking anything. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed a plate of waffles and a cup of coffee, the safest bets in this lackluster spread. After paying, you turned to head back to your table, but something made you freeze mid-step.

There he was—Jungkook. His eyes darted anxiously around the canteen, scanning faces, moving with a restless urgency that made your heart skip a beat. For a brief moment, the urge to bolt gripped you, to just turn around and leave before he spotted you. But you shook your head, grounding yourself. He wasn't looking for you. He was probably searching for his new girlfriend, Lilith. The thought stung, but you swallowed it down and continued back to your table.

You set the plate and coffee down with a soft clatter, sinking into your seat. Just as you lifted the cup to your lips, ready to lose yourself in the warmth of the coffee, you heard it—his voice cutting through the chatter of the canteen.

"Blush. Blush."

His nickname for you.

His footsteps followed, growing louder as they neared. Your breath caught in your throat as you set the cup back down, unable to take that sip.

In no time, Jungkook was standing right in front of you, his presence commanding, and something was different. You forced yourself to look up at him, your eyes meeting his, only to be met with an expression that sent a shiver down your spine.

Anger? Why did he look angry?

His brow was furrowed, jaw tight, and his eyes—those usually warm, comforting eyes—were now darkened with frustration. You couldn't understand it. What did he have to be angry about? Confusion churned in your gut, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, words failing you. The air between you felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension, and you could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, waiting for an explanation you didn't have.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Jungkook’s voice softened as he gazed at you, the anger in his eyes fading into something that looked like sadness. He tossed his bag onto the table beside yours with a thud, then crouched down in front of you, his gaze never leaving your face.

Before you could react, he reached out, grabbing the sides of your chair and turning it to face him. His hands found yours, gripping them tightly, as if afraid you might slip away. The intensity of his touch sent a jolt through you, weakening your resolve. It was a good thing you were already sitting, or your legs might have given out beneath you.

"Blush," he whispered, his voice so soft it barely reached your ears. The sound of your nickname on his lips made your heart clench painfully. God, you loved him—so much it hurt. But what did it matter? You couldn’t tell him. He had a girlfriend now. You reminded yourself of this bitter truth, feeling the familiar ache of heartbreak settling in your chest.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart. Taking a deep breath, you attempted to pull your hands away from his, but he only held on tighter, his grip almost desperate. It was as if he feared losing you, like you were the one thing keeping him grounded. The intensity of his hold made your heart ache even more. Could it be? No, you must be imagining things.

"Why?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly. "Why are you doing this? I’m trying to talk to you, and you’re just… not talking to me. You ignored me yesterday too."

His words hung in the air, heavy with confusion and hurt. You stared down at your intertwined hands, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. What could you say? There were no words that could fix this. The truth was too painful to speak. You just wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but here. The realization that he didn’t even remember your birthday only twisted the knife deeper. You felt like crumbling into pieces, but you stayed silent, holding back the storm of emotions threatening to escape.

You wanted to ask him if he even remembered it was your birthday. Did he really forget you in just one day after getting a girlfriend? It wasn’t about him not loving you or you loving him—that was a secret you’d buried deep. But you were best friends. Did he forget that too? How could he stand here, blaming you, while he acted like nothing was wrong?

But you didn’t ask any of those questions. The words that escaped your lips were far different, softer, weaker. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s gaze locked onto yours, searching for something—maybe an explanation, maybe an apology. You couldn't tell.

“I was just… It’s… My parents aren’t home. And I was feeling sad and lonely,” you lied, trying to force a convincing smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

For a moment, his eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing. He seemed to believe you, and that only made your heart crack a little more. Where had that Jungkook gone? The one who could see through your smiles, who always knew when something was wrong even before you did. The boy who used to notice the sadness hidden behind your laughter was gone, replaced by someone who couldn’t even spot the lie on your lips.

He nodded, his grip on your hands loosening slightly. “I get it,” he said, his voice softer now, more understanding. But he didn’t get it. Not really. He didn’t see the pain you were hiding, the way your heart was shattering piece by piece.

You swallowed hard, biting back the words you wanted to scream. Instead, you just nodded, letting him believe the lie, even though it tore you apart inside.

Jungkook stood up and gently patted your head, his touch warm but distant. "It will be okay, hmm?" he said, his voice soft, almost comforting. You nodded, feeling like a fool. Will it ever be okay? No, it won’t. It can never be okay. You loved him too much for things to be okay. This love was too deep, too consuming to ever fade. The only way for it to end would be for you to end, or else this love would live on inside you forever. That thought terrified you—the idea of loving him for eternity, never being able to touch him, while time made him forget you. And yet, you'd be left with nothing but memories, trapped in a loop of unrequited feelings.

“Blush?” His voice pulled you back to the present, soft and filled with concern. He smiled at you, that sweet smile he always reserved just for you. But now, that smile only reminded you that he wasn’t yours anymore—if he ever truly was. Nothing about him belonged to you, and maybe it never did. You were just fooling yourself, weren’t you?

“Don’t think much. It’ll be fine. I promise.” His fingers brushed your face, his thumb tracing lightly over your nose—a gesture that used to make you laugh, that used to light up your world. But now, it only made you want to cry.

You forced a smile, the corners of your mouth lifting just enough to convince him, even though your heart was breaking inside. His touch, his words—they were meant to soothe you, but they only made the ache worse. You wanted to believe him, to cling to the hope he offered, but deep down, you knew better. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Jungkook smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he pulled a chair closer to you and sat down. His happiness was infectious, but it only added to the heaviness in your chest.

"I have something for you," he said, his voice laced with excitement. "want to see it?"

You didn’t really want to see it. The weight of exhaustion was already pressing down on you, making you feel dizzy and drained. All you wanted was for him to leave, for this feeling of doom to pass. But you nodded anyway, forcing yourself to respond.

When his eyes lit up at your response, a small part of you felt a flicker of happiness. You watched as he reached for his bag, your gaze following the movements of his hands, wondering what he was up to.

He pulled out a large box of chocolates, and a genuine smile finally touched your lips. For a moment, the weight in your heart lightened just a little. You looked up at him, trying to match his enthusiasm.

"I know you love these," he said, holding the box out to you, "and I thought you were angry at me, so I needed to make it up to you."

You took the box from him, managing a laugh. "I wasn’t angry, but thanks," you said, your voice a mix of gratitude and something else—something you couldn’t quite name. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture tender and familiar, making your heart ache even more.

But despite the sweetness of the gesture, the happiness didn’t quite reach your heart. A box of chocolates wasn’t enough to make up for what you really wanted—a simple “Happy Birthday” from him. Yet, you pushed those thoughts aside and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, thanking him for the gift.

As he patted your head soothingly, you closed your eyes, willing yourself to feel the comfort he was trying to offer. But deep down, you knew that nothing could fill the emptiness inside you—not the chocolates, not his touch, not even the sound of his heartbeat close to yours.

You pulled back from the hug, your eyes lingering on his, those big doe eyes that seemed to hold the universe in them. He was everything you could ever want, the very definition of perfection. And maybe that’s why you couldn’t have him. He deserved someone better—someone like her.

He smiled at you, a warm, affectionate smile, and playfully squeezed your cheeks. Just as he was about to say something, a voice interrupted from behind.

“Jungkookie!” Lilith’s voice, sickly sweet and sharp, pierced through the air, making you wince.

Jungkook’s head snapped around, and he smiled at her, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. She came striding towards you both, her high heels clicking loudly on the floor. Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise, and even you felt a twinge of concern that she might stumble and fall flat on her face. But she didn’t.

And as much as you hated to admit it, a small part of you was disappointed that she didn’t fall. You wanted her to.

In no time, she was standing in front of Jungkook, her hand sliding into his as she pulled him to his feet. It all happened so quickly, like a flash of lightning. One moment he was sitting with you, his hands gently cupping your cheeks, and the next, he was standing beside her, her arms wrapped possessively around his left arm.

He brushed her arms away, his expression softening as he bent down to your level. “Look, I’ve got to go now. I… I have something important to do. Take care and eat the chocolates, okay?”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you with nothing but a box of chocolates and the emptiness gnawing at your chest.

You stared at the chocolates, the sweetness now a bitter reminder of everything you wanted but couldn’t have. It wasn’t the chocolates you craved—it was him. But all you got was this, while she… she had everything you wanted.

You turned deliberately back to your food, your appetite gone, but you forced yourself to eat anyway. The food tasted like ash in your mouth, but you swallowed it down, trying to fill the void that only seemed to grow with each bite.

The day dragged on, each hour blurring into the next. You didn’t see Jungkook again—not that you expected to. He was probably busy with his new girlfriend, and though you told yourself you didn’t care, the truth was harder to swallow. You cared. You cared too much. But you were tired of admitting it, even to yourself.

Finally, the day came to an end. You packed up your things, barely aware of your surroundings as you walked down the corridor, out of the building, and into the parking lot. Spotting your car, you headed straight for it, tossing your bag onto the passenger seat with a sigh.

Just as you were about to start the engine, you heard someone call your name. You glanced out the window and saw a guy waving at you. When your eyes met, he jogged over to your car, his expression nervous but determined.

Standing beside your car, he smiled awkwardly. “Hey! You probably know me…”

You shook your head, and his face flushed a deep shade of red. “That’s okay, I’m Jay. We’re in the same class. Literature?”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue, feeling the weight of his nervous energy in the air. He took a deep breath, then suddenly blurted out, “Will you go on a date with me?”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. His words hung in the air, and you processed them in stunned silence. But as you remained quiet, you saw the panic start to creep into his eyes, his breath quickening. Realizing he might be spiraling, you quickly stepped out of your car and placed a gentle hand on his arm, offering a reassuring smile.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you said softly, trying to ease his nerves. “You don’t need to worry.”

He looked at you, relief washing over his face, though he still seemed uncertain. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I’ll understand. You—”

His eyes lit up, a mixture of surprise and happiness flashing across his face. “Perfect! I’ll pick you up at 7 from your house.”

Your smile faltered slightly, the thought of giving out your address making you uneasy. “No, it’s okay. I’ll meet you there. Just send me the address.”

You exchanged phone numbers, his excitement almost contagious as he nodded eagerly. You still didn’t know him well. But at least this was something different, something that might distract you from everything else.

As you drove home, your thoughts drifted back to Jungkook and the emptiness that had taken root in your heart. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to try something new. To have a little fun, even if it was just to forget the pain, even if only for a night.

Time blurred by, and before you knew it, the clock struck six. Your phone buzzed with a text from Jay, providing the address of the restaurant. You glanced at the message before quickly getting ready, slipping into a simple black dress—nothing fancy, but short enough to make an impression. With one last look in the mirror, you grabbed your keys and headed out.

The drive to the restaurant was uneventful, your mind wandering as you navigated the familiar streets. When you arrived, the small vintage-themed restaurant immediately caught your eye. It was charming, with a warm, inviting atmosphere that made you smile. You stepped inside, scanning the room until you spotted Jay sitting in the corner, waving at you enthusiastically. You had to stifle a laugh—waving seemed to be his signature move.

You walked over, and as you approached, he quickly stood up and pulled out your chair with a shy grin. “Quite a gentleman, aren’t you?” you teased, unable to resist. His cheeks flushed pink, and he mumbled, “You look really beautiful.”

Settling into your seat, you felt a small flutter of satisfaction at his compliment. He ordered food for both of you, and the conversation began to flow naturally. Jay was nice—easy to talk to, with a soft demeanor that made the evening pleasant.

But then, mid-conversation, you noticed his hand suddenly move toward yours. He placed it on top of your hand, his touch tentative and shy. The urge to laugh bubbled up again, but you forced it down, deciding to let it slide. It didn’t feel right, but you didn’t say anything, noticing how nervous he was.

However, Jay seemed to misinterpret your silence. A few moments later, he scooted his chair closer to yours, his face inching toward you with a look that was all too clear. Your eyes widened in alarm, and you instinctively leaned back, creating distance. But Jay didn’t get the message—he continued leaning in, oblivious to your discomfort.

You opened your mouth, ready to stop him, but the words never left your lips. In the blink of an eye, Jay was on the floor, groaning in pain, clutching his side as he struggled to catch his breath.

And standing above him, fists clenched and jaw tight, was Jungkook.

His chest heaved with barely restrained fury, his usual calm expression replaced with something darker, more intense. His eyes, usually warm and full of mischief, were now cold as they locked onto Jay, who was still writhing on the floor. Jungkook’s hand twitched as if he was ready to strike again, but he held back, his gaze shifting to you.

He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, and your breath caught in your throat. His eyes hard and cold met yours, the anger in them abating just a bit, but his voice was soft when he spoke. “Are you okay?”

"Huh?" You asked, puzzled, and startled. For what really? In your head, you believed Jay didn't have any wrong intentions. But Did you say anything? No. You were too dumbfounded to pronounce a word.

"Blush, are you okay?" He repeated.

You nodded, though the shock was still coursing through your veins, making your limbs feel heavy. Jungkook’s eyes searched yours as if looking for any sign of distress, and when he seemed satisfied that you were unharmed, he turned his attention back to Jay, who was trying to scramble to his feet.

“Stay away from her,” Jungkook warned, his voice low and menacing. Jay paled, his eyes darting between you and Jungkook, clearly terrified.

You wanted to say something—to calm the situation down—but the words were stuck in your throat, tangled with the confusion and a hint of something else. Relief, perhaps? Or was it something more? Hope? But, for what?

Jungkook’s gaze hardened further as he looked at Jay and then again at you, his voice firm now. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be here.” He held out his hand, and for a moment, you hesitated, glancing at Jay, who looked utterly defeated. But in the end, you placed your hand in Jungkook’s, letting him lead you away from the chaos he had just caused.

Jungkook grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the restaurant with a force that left you stumbling to keep up. His grip was tight, almost painfully so, as he dragged you toward his car, his jaw set in a hard line. When you reached the car, he yanked the door open and practically shoved you inside, slamming the door shut with a sharp thud. You wanted to tell him that you’d driven yourself, but the words caught in your throat. Something in the way he moved, tense and angry, made you stay silent.

He climbed into the driver’s seat, his movements quick and stiff, and started the car without a word. The engine roared to life, and soon you were speeding down the dark streets, the silence between you heavy and oppressive. The air inside the car was thick with unspoken tension, and you found yourself nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress, your heart pounding in your chest.

You could tell he was furious; the tight set of his jaw, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him from losing control. The cold night air seeped in through the cracked window, brushing against your bare skin and making you shiver. Despite his anger, Jungkook noticed. Without a word, he reached over and rolled up the window before flipping on the heater.

“My hoodie’s in the back seat,” he said harshly, his voice cutting through the silence. “Grab it and fucking wear it.”

The words were gruff, his tone filled with irritation, but the gesture was astonishingly thoughtful. You turned around to reach for the hoodie, and that’s when you noticed it—an enormous bouquet of daisies and a cake resting on the back seat. Your fingers froze mid-air as you stared at them, a mixture of confusion and curiosity swirling in your chest. Are they for me? Did he really? Your mind raced with these thoughts. You wanted to ask him about it, but when you glanced at his face, the sharp angles of his clenched jaw and the angry flicker in his eyes made you think twice.

Silently, you grabbed the hoodie and pulled it over your head, the fabric soft and warm against your skin. It was far too big, swallowing you up like a blanket, and his scent, a mix of something fresh and woodsy, surrounded you as you took a deep breath. For a brief moment, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He really was huge, you thought, but the smile faded quickly as you stole another glance at him, his expression still hard and unyielding.

The drive seemed to pass in a blur, the tension in the car making every second feel like an eternity. Finally, you reached your home, and before you could even reach for the door handle, Jungkook was out of the car, moving around to your side. He yanked the door open with a roughness that made you flinch and grabbed your arm, pulling you out onto the sidewalk. His grip was firm as he dragged you toward the front door, his steps quick and determined, leaving you no choice but to stumble along behind him.

Your mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened, but before you could process it all, you were inside your house, the door closing with a sharp click behind you, and he was standing in front of you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the tense silence that followed Jungkook’s outburst. The fear in your gut twisted tighter with every step he took toward you. You had never seen him this angry before. He was always the boy who had been your childhood friend, the one you fell for in middle school but never told. At first, it was fear of rejection, and later, the fear of losing him and your friendship kept your feelings hidden. But now, wasn’t he lost to you? Didn’t he belong to Lilith now?

“Why the fucking hell were you out with that idiotic being?” His voice was like a whip, harsh and cutting through the air. The force of his words made you flinch, your shoulders tensing as if trying to shield yourself from his anger. You caught a flicker of something in his eyes—was it regret?—but it was fleeting, quickly masked by his furious expression.

Before you could gather your thoughts or find the words to respond, he took two swift strides toward you, and suddenly you were face-to-face. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, a storm of hurt and pain swirling in his eyes. “Do you like him?” he demanded, his voice cracking with raw emotion. “Do you love him?” He didn’t wait for your answers, bombarding you with questions while his face remained inches from yours.

You tried to speak, but the words were trapped, your throat tightening. Jungkook's hands gripped your shoulders, his fingers digging in with a possessiveness that left you breathless. “Damnit, say something!” he shouted, shaking you slightly. “Why were you out with him?”

But instead of answering, you shot back a question of your own, desperation lacing your voice. “How did you know I was out with him, Jungkook? How did you even find me Jungkook?”

You didn't want to answer his question. Why should he care if you loved someone or not, when he had accepted Lilith’s proposal just the day before? Now he had a girlfriend. He had no right to demand answers from you.

His anger flared further, a deep scowl marring his features. “Does it matter?” he snapped. “Does it fucking matter?” His eyes were intense, demanding an answer, and he leaned in as if he might kiss you, his breath hot against your face. “Why don’t you answer me? Do you love him?”

The intensity of the moment, the way he was so close and yet so distant, made you tremble. “Yes, it matters! It matters to me!” you shouted, your voice breaking with the force of your emotions. You pushed him away, the shove more about your need for space than real anger.

Jungkook stumbled back, his eyes widening in shock. His face twisted with hurt, and tears began to well up, glistening in the harsh light of the room. He stared at you, his expression a mix of pain and confusion, as if your rejection was a blow he wasn’t prepared for. The sight of him—this person who had always been so sure and confident—crumbling in front of you left a sharp pang in your chest.

As you looked at his tear-filled eyes, a deep, gnawing guilt settled in your chest. Why did you still care so much about him? You wondered. Your love for him was consuming you, and it was tearing you apart. You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke before you could.

“I came to your house to celebrate your birthday,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I wanted to surprise you. This time... I wanted to surprise you on your birthday, that's why I didn't wish you before. But. But when I got here, I saw you getting into your car; before I could stop you, you left, your car was already speeding up. I chased after you because I really wanted to make you happy. You were loo-looking sad all day. But, I lost you somewhere along the way, then sear-searched for your car for like forever. When I finally found it, it was parked outside that restaurant.” His voice rose with each word, and his eyes were wild with a mixture of frustration and hurt. “And the moment I walked in, I saw him trying to kiss you. You didn’t even stop him!”

The anger in his voice dissolved into tears. His shoulders shook as he struggled to breathe, the weight of his emotions crashing down on him. You could see the pain etched into his face, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

You moved towards him, your own heart breaking at the sight of him in such distress.

You moved towards him and wrapped your arms around him tightly, hoping to offer some comfort. “Jungkook, what's wrong?” you murmured, your voice gentle. “why are you crying? Please, don’t cry.” But he pushed you away, his hands shoving you forcefully. His reaction stunned you, and a wave of realization hit you. So this is how he felt when you pushed him away.

You tried again, but he pushed you off once more, his eyes filled with anguish. “You love him, don’t you? How long? Huh?” he sobbed, his voice cracking with pain.

Determined not to give up, you moved towards him again. This time, when he tried to push you, you held your ground. You guided him to the couch and gently made him sit down, his shoulders shaking with each breath. You stood beside him, your hand soothingly stroking his back. “Please, don’t cry,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady.

He buried his face against your waist, his arms clinging to you. “Why do you love him and not me?” he asked, his voice muffled but full of hurt. “I thought you love me.”

For a moment, you were frozen, staring at him in disbelief, questions swirling in your head making your heart ache further. He knew. He knew you loved him, yet he chose her over you. Now, he was asking you this. How could he? How could he ask this when he was with Lilith? Did he expect you to chase him while he enjoyed his life with someone else?

With a mix of frustration and sorrow, you pushed his hands away from your waist. His crying intensified, but you no longer cared. “How can you say that?” you yelled, your voice breaking. “You accepted Lilith’s proposal yesterday! You’re dating her now! And you’re telling me not to love anyone else?”

Jungkook shook his head vigorously, trying to explain. “I— I didn’t... She... I... No. Please,” he started, but you cut him off.

“You knew. You knew I love you. You knew I was upset!” you continued, your voice rising. “still, you left me alone with those stupid chocolates while you went off with her!”

He tried to explain himself again, but you interrupted again, your anger spilling over. “I didn’t want those chocolates! I wanted you!” you shouted, your hand striking his chest. “You’re a heartless bastard. I’ve loved you for so long, and you never cared! Was it too hard to fall for me? And, why crying now?”

Jungkook’s face twisted with frustration, he knew you love him, he always did, his mouth opening to say something, but you cut him off once more. “You always stopped me from calling you ‘Jungkookie’ or ‘Kookie,’ but you never minded when other girls did it!”

He was growing increasingly agitated, his face reddening with frustration. Without fully realizing what he was doing, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you close. His lips crashed against yours, the urgency of the moment catching both of you by surprise.

For a brief second, you were frozen, his kiss demanding and intense. But then, you began to respond, your lips moving against his. The kiss was raw, filled with all the emotions neither of you could put into words.

He slowly pulled away, both of you breathing hard, your chests rising and falling rapidly. Your face was flushed, partly from the kiss and partly from the shyness creeping in. His eyes softened as he looked at you, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I’m not dating her, Blush,” he whispered, using the nickname that made you feel like home for the first time in what felt like forever.

You blinked, your heart stuttering at his words. “What?”

“I’m not dating her,” he repeated, his voice steady yet full of regret. “Yes, she proposed, and I didn’t reject her immediately, but that was only because there were so many people around. I didn’t want to embarrass her in front of everyone.” His hand dropped to yours, holding it firmly. “I told her in private afterward that I love someone else. That I love you.”

Your breath hitched as he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. “She said she needed help with a project, and after rejecting her, I couldn’t say no. So, I left with her, but I didn’t want to. I just... I’m sorry, Blush. I love you, and only you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as his words sank in. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “And those names,” he continued, his voice low, “I never liked them. It always felt like they were calling a baby, but I didn’t care enough to stop them because... well, they didn’t matter to me. The only person who matters is you.”

His words wrapped around your heart, squeezing it tight. You couldn’t hold back anymore. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down, crashing your lips against his. The kiss was urgent, desperate, full of everything you’d been holding back for so long. His arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

After what felt like an eternity, you broke the kiss, both of you panting, foreheads pressed together. “I love you too, Jungkook,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

His arms tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he murmured against your skin. “I was just too scared to lose you.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “You won’t lose me,” you promised, your hand cupping his cheek. “Not now, not ever.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as if he were savouring the moment. “That's a good thing because... I'm planning to keep you forever and ever and ever. I’m never letting you go,” he vowed, his voice firm, and you knew he meant every word.

Jungkook’s arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you even closer, as if afraid you might disappear. His forehead rested gently against yours, his breath warm on your skin. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked into your eyes, the intensity of his earlier emotions fading into something softer, something tender.

“Happy birthday, Blush,” he whispered, his voice filled with affection.

Before you could even respond, he suddenly scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal in surprise. He laughed, the sound full of joy, as he began to twirl you around. The world spun around you, the colours of the room blurring together, but all you could focus on was him. The way his eyes sparkled with happiness, the way his grip on you was firm yet gentle, and the way his laughter filled your heart with warmth.

“Jungkook!” you laughed, holding onto his shoulders, feeling like you were floating. “Put me down!”

“Never,” he teased, twirling you faster. “Not until I’ve spun you around enough to make up for all those tears.”

Your laughter mingled with his, and the room filled with the sound of your shared happiness. Finally, when he slowed to a stop, he carefully set you down, though his arms stayed wrapped around you, keeping you close. You were both a little dizzy, swaying slightly, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was being in his arms, feeling his warmth, and knowing that he loved you.

Jungkook’s hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he looked at you with a smile that made your heart melt. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured. “I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times, but it’s so much better than I ever dreamed.”

You smiled back at him, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had,” you confessed softly.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead. “I'm sorry for making you cry. I won't ever make you cry again,” he promised. “I always knew you love me I just... I was... I tried to tell you many times but everytime it felt like it's not the right time, I'm sorry my love. I promise I'll make up for all those tears I've caused you because of my stupidity. Gosh! I just love you so much, Blush.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy tears. You leaned into his touch, feeling safe, loved, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything was going to be okay.

Jungkook’s arms slid around your waist again, and before you could say anything, he lifted you off your feet once more, spinning you around slowly this time, his smile wide and full of love.

“Happy birthday, my love,” he whispered as he twirled you gently.

Part 2?

Wow, you made it to the end! Honestly, that deserves a medal or maybe some serious painkillers. If you’re still breathing and not currently plotting my demise for making you read this—congrats, you’re a legend. If you’re crawling towards me with murder in your eyes, don’t worry, I get it. I cringed so hard writing this that I think I bruised a rib.

I know, I know. This is like a bad joke that just won’t end. I’m cringing harder than you are. But hey, sometimes you just need to unleash your inner masochist and share the pain. I posted it because I felt like it. So, let’s bond over this collective trauma, or you can just plot my demise in peace. Either way, thanks for sticking around and surviving this with me. Here’s to us—brave souls navigating the wreckage of my writing. Cheers!

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! I'd love to hear!

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agent99galanzo · 3 days

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Please Hear My Plea

Summary: In every lifetime, Natasha remembers you, but you must rediscover her before the curse begins anew.

---

In a quiet village under the golden glow of autumn, Natasha Romanoff sat on a weathered bench, watching as people moved through the bustling market. Despite the ordinary sights, her heart raced, an instinctual recognition pulling her attention to a familiar face in the crowd.

You. In this lifetime, you were an artist, painting the world with vibrant strokes. But you had no memory of her; to you, Natasha was just a stranger.

With each encounter, the ache grew deeper. She felt the weight of the centuries pressing down on her. In every life, they had found each other, only to be separated by the cruel hand of fate. Natasha had lived through it all, while you remained blissfully unaware of your shared history.

As the days passed, Natasha followed you, drawn to the spark in your eyes. You were passionate and carefree, and each smile felt like a flicker of light in her long, dark existence. She longed to reach out, to tell you everything, but the curse held her back—if she revealed herself too soon, it would only drive you away.

One evening, under a canopy of stars, she found the courage to approach you. “Your paintings are stunning,” she said, her voice steady yet warm.

You looked up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Thank you! I’m just trying to capture the world as I see it.”

Natasha smiled, a bittersweet pang in her chest. “You have a gift.”

Weeks turned into months, and a friendship blossomed between you. Natasha relished every moment, cherishing the time you spent together, even as she felt the impending darkness looming. The curse would strike again, and she had to find a way to break the cycle before it was too late.

One night, while sharing stories over a candlelit dinner, you asked, “Do you believe in fate?”

Natasha hesitated, her mind racing with memories of past lives. “I believe in connections that go beyond time.”

You looked thoughtful. “That sounds poetic. I think we’re all just trying to find our place in the universe.”

Her heart swelled at your words. You were so close to the truth, yet so far from knowing her. As the seasons changed, Natasha felt the familiar dread creeping in, a sense of urgency clawing at her.

When the inevitable happened—an accident, a sudden turn of fate—Natasha was there, but this time, she couldn’t save you. She watched as life faded from your eyes, a gut-wrenching pain ripping through her soul.

“No!” she screamed, desperation tearing at her. “Not again!”

---

In the aftermath, Natasha fell into despair. Time flowed endlessly, and she felt trapped in a loop of grief. But each time, she felt the flicker of hope. You would be reborn, and she would find you again.

---

In the next life, you were a writer, lost in the pages of your own imagination. Natasha recognized you immediately, but again, you didn’t remember her. Each lifetime began anew, and the curse remained unbroken. She would always seek you out, knowing that rediscovery was her only chance to save you.

As you walked the streets of the bustling city, Natasha felt the familiar pull. She approached you cautiously, “Your words have a way of capturing the heart.”

You looked up, intrigued. “Thank you! I try to weave truth into my stories.”

With every interaction, Natasha fought against the curse that bound you. She searched for ways to break it, delving into ancient texts and seeking wisdom from those who had walked the earth before her.

But time wore on, and each reunion ended the same way—too brief, too painful. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t change the outcome.

---

Finally, after centuries of heartbreak, Natasha found herself at a crossroads. With each new life, she felt more desperate to keep you safe, but the curse always reset their connection.

“Tell me how to break this,” she pleaded to an ancient seer. “I can’t keep losing her!”

“Only love can transcend the cycle,” the seer warned. “But both must remember.”

---

In the next lifetime, you were a dancer, vibrant and full of life. Natasha watched from the shadows, her heart heavy with longing. She knew she needed to awaken your memories, to remind you of the love that had endured through countless ages.

One evening, as you danced under the stars, Natasha stepped forward, determination igniting her spirit. “You’re mesmerizing,” she said, her voice low and filled with emotion.

You paused, your eyes locking onto hers. “Who are you?”

“Someone who has loved you through time,” Natasha replied, her heart pounding. “Please, trust me.”

As you looked into her eyes, something flickered—an echo of recognition. But just as quickly, the moment slipped away, and you turned, leaving her once more.

---

Each time, Natasha faced the heartbreak with renewed resolve. She wouldn’t stop searching for you, wouldn’t stop trying to break the cycle. Even as the curse twisted their fates, she held onto the hope that one day, you would remember.

Through every lifetime, she would find you again, and perhaps one day, you would understand the depth of her love. No matter how long it took, Natasha would fight against fate, determined to end the cycle of loss.

Because love, she believed, could conquer all—even the bonds of eternity.

---

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #marvel #soft natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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lizardsfromspace · 2 days

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Okay, Matrix plagiarism case postscript

One thing I didn't answer is how she got the Wachowski's timeline wrong. I still don't know, but it appears she essentially shifted their lives back a decade

She says less than a decade ago they were running a construction business, but actually, working at a construction company is what they were doing in 1986. In 1976 Lana and Lilly were eleven and nine years old respectively. I can't explain why she messed this up, beyond having to age them up a decade for the story to work

But this screencap also brings up another thing she mentions repeatedly that I didn't mention - the smoking gun in her claim is that...the Matrix ripped off her words verbatim for its opening crawl. The opening crawl...to The Matrix.

Huh?

So her story is - and unsurprisingly the timeline here is jumbled, for instance, citing production interviews from 1997 when the film wouldn't enter production until 1998 - the original version of The Matrix contained a Star Wars-style opening crawl, and this was the most directly plagiarized part of the film.

She claims this opening crawl was, in fact, in the theatrical release of The Matrix and only removed when it came to home media, because she. Because she called the FBI on the Wachowskis for stealing the idea of opening crawls from her

The theatrical cut does differ from later versions slightly - most infamously the Wachowskis made the green color filter much more green in the second DVD release, to make it consistent with the style of the sequels - but if there was a opening crawl mandated by the studio, nobody but her has mentioned it, and I find it hard to believe critics wouldn't mention it.

Because this is Dark City. She's clearly confused The Matrix with stories about the studio's meddling with the 1998 film Dark City.

Dark City was the dystopian sci-fi film that had a opening narration explaining the whole plot foisted on it by the studio, and critics mentioned it. Basically every review mentioned it (some even suggest covering your ears or muting the film the first time you see it, at least until the Director's Cut removed it). Meanwhile, reviews of The Matrix praised its opening from the very beginning: how it drops you right into things and lets you find out about its world as Neo does. It's just not possible that the theatrical release has a opening crawl no one mentioned when I can pull up full comparisons of theatrical vs first DVD vs second DVD vs Bluray. Whatever story she read either was about Dark City, or was a Wachowski saying in passing "yeah the studio wanted us to add one but we didn't".

Another thing I didn't touch on is just how much it hypes her up as a untouchable genius of cinema. For instance, she claims to have come up with the effects of The Matrix in 1983 too

(one funny part is how little she brings up The Terminator at all? She just threw it in as a bonus I guess)

I looked up how they did the bullet time effect in particular and...it would have been impossible in 1983. It's not just high speed photography; it's entire banks of cameras, placed in the right place by computer previsualization, their sequence programmed, and with all the elements composited together by CGI. Even stylistically - the true creator of the effects cited Akira as a influence, and Akira the movie didn't exist in 1983. Neither did the type of Hong Kong action film that heavily influenced it. I guess it would be possible to write down "someone goes really fast and we depict it like they slowed down time", concepts of a plan etc

But like.

She's destined to be one of the most profound master writers of the 21st century. This is a book proving she's never written anything. It has a pitch for The Third Eye, it has a second film treatment tacked on at the end, and it has copyright registrations for her sequels to Terminator and The Matrix. M. Night Shyamalan's character in Lady in the Water was destined to be a great writer too, but he actually wrote a book. He didn't put out a book with a decades-old synposis that was never finished & reams of legal documents and a bio saying, I'm one of the greatest authors of all time. Because who needs writing when you have destiny, God, and the ancient superrace living in the Pyramids on your side?

This is my for real last post on this since I ended up just depressed about it in the end. I think the worst part is, she knows she lost. But she still goes to the press telling a story she knows isn't true, and people believe her. Some of it is transphobic - "stop saying it's a trans allegory when they stole it"; some of it runs with the Christian oppression narrative (full disclosure, I was inspired to look for her book again bc while looking up another crank, I saw an interview with her in the sidebar of a religious website); but a lot of it is just people who innocently want it to be true.

One of the few pieces debunking her story is on a website called Black Excellence - it doesn't even have a byline - said this:

"There are many people, especially Black people, who wanted the story to be true. It symbolized a Black person, especially a Black woman, finally winning against the system. When Sophia Stewart spoke about how mainstream media would not give her the time of day because almost all of them were owned by Warner Brothers, some Black media embraced her. Blogs spread her story, especially the initial story on Globe that contained errors about the case.

"But the story is not true. Sophia Stewart did not become the richest Black person in the country. But that did not deter her from going on several shows and publications to tell her story."

She took advantage of people's urge to root for the underdog against a corporation - and seized on a lack of mainstream coverage to claim her story was being suppressed. But it just isn't true. Also yeah she ridiculously claims that Warner Bros owns every news website and newspaper and that's kind of funny I guess. Well, that's it. I'm never doing this again

#sophia stewart #the matrix #plagiarism #long post

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m3l0nfl0at · 9 hours

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the greatest - s. gojo

gojo satoru x gn!reader ; gege give me that mf pen, ANGST ANGST, spoilers for the manga, mention of death, no y/n used, and reader is a little bit rude to shoko at first, 2.6k words

summary ; i wanted to write a more fulfilling ending for gojo because i feel he deserved it and gege i will never forgive you

melon’s recommended melody ; my love mine all mine - mitski

Waking up, hearing the chirps of life outside your window telling you it was a new day. Brushing the spot in bed next to you, only for it to feel empty and cold. Feeling the spot next to you became a habit that was hard to break. Getting up to brush your teeth, seeing the other toothbrush occupying the slot beside yours. Washing your face and feeling the chilly water hit your face. Heading to your living room, ironically it didn’t feel like it was lived in much. Opening the fridge not expecting much because you haven’t been to the groceries in, who knows how long? Sighing, not feeling hungry but knowing it wasn’t smart to leave yourself unsatiated. You go to the pantry seeing all kinds of sweets left untouched, you reach out to touch them but not grabbing one.

Feeling yourself tear up, you never had a sweet tooth and now thinking of something sweet made you sick to your stomach. How can you want something sweet when everything around you feels bitter? You felt nothing, saw no potential, you can’t even recall the last time you left the house. No drop of color, the world that was once made up of red and blue became black and white. You close the pantry wanting nothing more than retreat back to your bed for the rest of the day. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, pouring yourself some water. Drinking it, feeling the burn from the coldness hitting your dry scratchy throat.

Placing it down in the sink filled with glassware, not worrying too much about the piling dishes. Heading to the door, cracking it open just a bit to feel the sun heat up your freezing house. Stepping out to sit down on the porch stairs, hugging your knees. Looking around at your yard, glaring at reminders of what used to be. Your vegetable garden withered, planting those to joke around with Satoru. Reprimanding him, saying just because he was the strongest doesn’t mean he could eat nothing but sweets. You look at your flowers, specifically forget me nots, lining the house now lifeless and devoid of any color.

You march to the flowers angrily picking them up and stomping on the remaining garden. How dare they die, didn’t they know you were going through enough already? It’s not your fault that you couldn’t stop them from growing, it’s not your fault you had to wake up everyday to make sure they lived. It was selfish, it’s not like you wake up and someone makes sure that you’re alive. In fact no one reached out to you anymore, not Shoko, not Iljichi, and certainly not Utahime. You didn’t expect them to but for them to not even acknowledge Satoru’s body or death? To not even let you have a funeral for him.

You wonder if anyone even cared for him beyond his title, you knew Geto did. No one else cared for Gojo the way you and Suguru did. You don’t blame them for not checking up on you, Shoko hated confrontation, Iljichi was always scared of Gojo, and Utahime hated Gojo with her whole being. Part of you wanted to think he was finally at peace with his best friend. Knowing they were together brought you some sort of peace in this meaningless world. Another part of you wanted to scream, were you not enough for him to stay here. Were you not enough for him to win the fight and come back home to you.

Going back inside looking back at the mess you created in your front yard. The mess representing the muck that was going on in your head, ever since that day. That stupid day he went to battle the “King of Curses”, only for him to lose. Satoru was not the humblest person, you always told him that would be his downfall. Of course you thought Gojo was the strongest but your Satoru was still a vulnerable human. Slamming the door, attempting to run to your room. Only to trip on shoes at the front door, looking behind you to see Satoru’s loafers. The ones he would wear to teach, he loved teaching so much.

He wanted to be everything he hadn’t received as a student. Knowing that his teachers never really considered him to be a kid more like a mere prize. A prize saying I taught the strongest sorcerer and nothing more. His students and him were close but at the end of the day he was just their teacher, nothing more. Yuji and Yuta tried reaching out to you, coming to your house to knock only to be met with nothing. Yuji and Yuta admired Gojo, they knew what it meant to be the strongest. How being the strongest came with all kinds of burdens to bear or how being the strongest meant having people admire and hate you.

You feel your breathing getting heavy, you were never the strongest. You were known to always break down, being the crybaby of your family but you couldn’t help it. Yet, you haven’t cried since Satoru’s death was officially announced. You suddenly had no ounce of tears left in you, opting to just shut everyone out instead. Crying was stupid anyway, why would you cry? Crying wouldn’t bring him back, crying and screaming at the top of your lungs wouldn’t stop him.

Part of you wondered if he knew he was going to die, if he knew that he was going to lose against Mahoraga. Or better yet lose to Megumi, you knew Satoru didn’t have it in him to kill one of his students. If he couldn’t separate the two souls then that only left one option. However, the past can’t be dwelled on too much because it can never change, you slam your fists on the ground in agony. Feeling your ankle hurting but also feeling everything you had in you hurting too. Wanting nothing more than someone to pick you up off the ground, that someone being Satoru. Damn you Satoru, even in death he had an eerie way of sneaking back into your life.

It’s not like you wanted to forget about him, he was your entire life. You stayed awake some nights reminiscing on the future you both had planned, looking forward to getting married.

“You think when were married you’ll still have that dingy blindfold on?”, you laugh, messing with his hair. Satoru places a hand on his chest, gasping dramatically. “One, it’s not dingy. Second, obviously not. I’d probably choose something more stylish like sunglasses or maybe a tinted monocle.”, you groan in disgust. “You will absolutely not wear a monocle at our wedding. You’ll look like the monopoly man.”

You lay on the ground, soaking in the feeling of the pain from your ankle. Hearing a knock at your door, choosing to stay quiet not wanting anyone to see you in this state. “I know you’re in there you know, your garden wasn’t this ugly when I stopped by yesterday.”, you wince trying to pick yourself up. Funny how she chooses right now to finally show up, “Leave Shoko. I don’t need anything.”. She sighs knowing grief probably made you bitter, “Then why are you wincing? Open the door so I can fix whatever mess you got yourself in.”

“It’s open, let yourself in Leir.”, you lay against a wall preparing to let someone see you at your worst. “What happened?”, her clothes and breath smells like cigarettes, you wondered what got her back into the habit. “What didn’t happen, is what you should be asking.”, you roll your eyes. Shoko looks at your ankle, checking if it’s anything serious, chalking it up to only being a sprain. “I came because I have something to give you.”, you look over to her shaking your head. You didn’t think you could handle anything more than what you have on your mind right now. She hesitates, not wanting to upset you but also wanting to get everything off her mind. “I cleaned up his body. If you want to do a proper burial for him. Or if you just want to see him one last time, give you some closure you need.”, she hears your breath falter.

Knowing she’s pushing her limits, “Why would I host a burial when no one cared for him like I did.”, you angrily glare at her. You feel your breath quicken, it starts picking up as your thoughts become more rampant. She stays silent, feeling that if you have to spew your anger at anyone, she’ll let it be her. You look at your now swollen ankle, your messy house that no longer felt like a home, and messy kitchen. Wondering when this all happened, why did you let it get this bad?

Shoko hands you a letter, “I know you’re frustrated and even bitter with what Gojo’s decision was but he never stopped thinking about you even in his last moments. I know I've been an absentee friend but I cleaned him up because that was the only thing I could do. Send him to the afterlife being the Gojo you and I both knew.”, you feel all the pressure and pain that festered in you slowly crack. Knowing that even though you were painting everyone as the villain, the only true villain was fate and time.

Your lip quivers, apologizing to everyone in your head knowing they’re all suffering in their own way. You lift up the note, opening it up to see a messily drawn Satoru in the corner. Everything that’s been withheld these past couple of months finally breaks, looking to the top seeing the words “my love” printed. Taking a deep breath before proceeding. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop me from trying to defeat that cocky old bastard.”, you roll your eyes knowing how he hated Sukuna but still decided to fight him. “I sent my best students and Shoko to come check on you, can’t have you losing yourself over me, right?”, you choke on your own tears.

You stop reading halfway, scared to continue. Scared that if you continue, you’ll lose the last thing that has Satoru’s last traces on it. Shoko sits by you letting you rest your head on her shoulder. “He wanted you to read it. He gave one to Megumi and Nobara too, keep going for him.” Nodding, pacing your breaths scared you’ll start hyperventilating, “I know it’ll be lonely without my overbearing personality but I’m not gone. I’ll be watching over you or looking up at you, whichever you prefer.”, you laugh through the tears as you feel your bittersweet smile slowly appears on your face. “I know I left before I could fulfill my promise about our future but the ring I wanted to use is in my drawer hidden under my blindfolds. I knew you wouldn’t look there since they’re so dingy, right?”, your tears fall as you get up slowly.

Shoko gets up, reaching out to help you, as you start limping towards your room. Opening the dresser, scavenging for a box, looking in the corner to see a velvet box. Sobbing violently as you open it, seeing G.S. engraved into the inside of the band. Slipping it on before reading the rest of the note. “Living will feel harder with me gone because I know I would feel empty if I had to live without you. I want you to live, live and never forget me. You’ll surpass me in time and age but I'll be waiting for you no matter what, It’s not your time yet. When we meet again I will just be Satoru, not the strongest but only your Satoru. Make me proud, my love, till we meet again. P.S. Nows a good time to tell you, I finished all your chips, whoopsies!”. “I knew it.”, you laugh while crying. Shoko watches you feel the writing on the paper as if it was him.

Gently caressing the last thing he touched, the last words he engraved just for you to feel at ease. You lay against the bed, feeling everything within you give out, he’s actually gone. Shoko pats your back, letting you know she’s here. Even though she knows you only want Gojo right now, no one else even existed within this moment. People thought Satoru was selfish only caring about himself, when in reality he spent even his last moments scraping up letters to put others at ease with his decision, that was your Satoru.

“Will you show me him, one last time, please.” You look over at Shoko pleading. She nods, “I have to take you there to heal your ankle anyways”. You get up to get in her car to make it back to Jujutsu High. Fiddling with your ring the whole way there. Asking to see him on impulse, not even thinking about your appearance. Not really caring anyways, who do you have to impress? Shoko helps you out of the car, being cautious of your ankle.

She first treats your ankle, you slowly catch your breath. Anticipating seeing Satoru for the last time. Shoko guides you, “I cleaned him to the best of my ability. The stitches are kind of gruesome but it was a last minute call to action.”, you trace his face. Seeing the scar from his forehead, disgusted that the last resort was using Satoru as a weapon. You see your tears fall onto him, wiping them away. Shoko excuses herself, letting you have your last moments with him. “Satoru, you’re not in pain anymore, right?”, naively waiting for his answer. “You look so handsome my love, even in your last moments.”, crouching down to grab his hand. “I’ll never forget you as long as I live, Satoru Gojo.”, you kiss his cheek, feeling his cold skin on your lips.

“I’m so mad at you. I wish you could come back to life for just five minutes so I could reprimand you one final time.”, silence hanging in the air as you take in his appearance. Combing your fingers through his hair, “Damn it Satoru, why couldn’t you be selfish just this one time.” Even though he was in front of you lifeless like your flowers, a part of him still felt so alive. His love for you never died, not even beyond death, that was all you needed to live on. You let go of his hand, walking towards the door. Leaving the room, looking back at him one last time, “I love you Satoru, that’ll never change.”.

Even though living without Satoru was difficult, you felt him all around you. Going outside to water your beautiful garden varying with blue and white flowers. Going shopping and getting something sweet to commemorate his unbeatable sweet tooth. Teaching at Jujutsu High, to continue his legacy. Visiting his gravestone to tell him about your day, buying a meal for you and him. The pain never went away but you found comfort in it. His belongings were still placed in your home, never having the heart to put them away. You leave a spot open in your bed for him, touching his pillows softly before sleeping. Putting his shoes away neatly and even polishing them. Getting his mug to place it right next to yours in the morning, feeling comforted by the traces of himself he left behind. He was gone but he’s still existed within you, within his students, and within his legacy. He was loved and he would never be forgotten.

divider credit to @/vase-of-lilies, @/bunnysrph, and @/thecutestgrotto

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ melon's marginalia : honestly i needed to write this because i have to write fluff and i felt very devastated in leaks today. gege i will never forgive you for taking such a beloved character and dragging his name

#gojo x reader #gojo angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #anime x reader #gojo x you #gojo jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk angst

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asktehkoopz · 3 hours

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HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY TO ME! 🥳

What a crazy decade it’s been, too! I’ve met a lot of good friends, people I still talk with daily and hang out with in person to this day! Despite things not being perfect in the Nintendask community (as I learned much later, haha, I kept in my lane), I still personally cherish the years I spent making art for this blog. It was my passion project for a while, but unfortunately it slowly drifted away from my grasp.

I can’t say if I’ll ever update with the tenacity that I once did. In fact, I can almost guarantee I won’t, but I like being able to come back here every once in a while to drop some new art sometimes. :]

I had a lot of big swings that I wanted to do in regards to the koopz’s arcs, some MUCH more fleshed out than others (namely Lemmy, Wendy, and Morton’s were lacking), and I’m almost positive I won’t be able to get to them in full.

So how about a big spoiler dump, huh? Every plot point, every plan, every character concept that was going to occur will be beneath the cut! If you wanna wait on me to maybe get to them over the course of another decade, please, by all means don’t read beyond!

If you’re hungry for what was cooking upstairs, then scroll on! And thank you guys for the outpouring of support I’ve constantly gotten with this blog! 💖 (Also for real, this read-more is mega long, so seriously prep yourself. Here’s the google docs version that might make it easier to read! If you have any questions about the plot stuff, uh. Maybe I'll answer them OOC?)

Also bonus comparison images! EW!!

TL;DR: The prophecy was a sort-of fake created by Kamek! It started out real, but after it officially stopped existing, it was perpetuated on accident/for emotionally selfish reasons! It didn’t start out that way when I planned the blog, but it eventually became that over the course of development discussion with BoomPom mun! Eventually the koopz were gonna give up their star child prophecy magic nonsent and live their lives how they wanted to. The end!

THE LONG VERSION

Version 1.0 of AskTehKoopz (then AskIggyAndTehKoopz):

The star children prophecy was loosely based on the Yoshi’s Island DS concept of “star children”. Each koopaling (and Bowser Junior) were imbued with an inherent, powerful magic when they were born to help them take over other kingdoms (as mentioned in their various bios). This changed both their ability to inherently harness magic as well as changing their species, explaining their strange features, specifically their pointed ears and wildly colored hair (the pointed ears admittedly did come later during the wedding arc).

The koopalings had always been planned to be unnatural magikoopas, but at the beginning of the blog’s inception, it was not concrete what exactly they each were. This will be covered below.

Version 2.0 of AskTehKoopz:

If you look in their bios, you will see that they are each noted as “Magikoopa(?) + (Where they were born)”. This, along with their last names, were a hint as to their original species. This was added circa 2017 when their bios/references were finally updated.

Originally they were the following:

Roy - Bullet Bill

Iggy - Toad

Morton - Hammer Bro

Larry - Yoshi

Ludwig - Koopa Troopa

Wendy - Bombshell Koopa

Lemmy - I don’t knoooowwww

An additional twist had been introduced during this stage as well:

This set of koopalings (and Junior) were not the first set of prophesied star children.

Affectionately named “The Alpha Koopz”, these are what you might know as the DiC cartoon koopalings: Bully, Cheatsy, Kooky, Kootie Pie, Big Mouth, Hip, and Hop. These seven, along with a young!Bowz were the first set of star children. Back then, Bowz did not see them so much as kids he needed to take care of. Moreso they were “guys who he’s forced to do magic alongside”, despite Kamek’s pressure to be more attentive to them as the eldest. He was considerably more reckless back then with his power as well.

As aggressive and mean and selfish as the blog koopz are, they don’t surpass the sheer annoyance and danger the alpha koopz put themselves in, mainly due to Bowz’s negligence.

And because of this unfettered, reckless behavior, they managed to doom themselves to a “Game Over”, shattering the prophecy and allowing their set of star child powers (along with Bowz’s) to shoot off and embed itself into the next set of vessels. This is also why the blog koopz are “in the wrong order” with regards to their age.

In addition to gaining these star child powers, echoes of their memories and actions and dynamics exist in some of the koopz tendencies:

This is why Lemmy gravitates towards Iggy (Hip and Hop’s closeness). Cheatsy is why Larry is a kleptomaniac. Kooky is where Ludwig’s “crazy laugh” comes from. Kootie Pie is where Wendy pulled “Daddykins” from.

How did they game over? As of right now, it was a mundane and tragically, incredibly avoidable fate, one that echoes Bowser’s many in-game endings: Bully simply fell off the roof of the castle, plunging into the lava moat below. The alpha koopz had little restraint and they encouraged one another to constantly do dangerous things. Walking along the giant chains of the castle without his wand was one of these dangerous things.

If Kamek had had the power to*, if Bowz had desired to see them as more than nuisances and instead helped them learn restraint, if they had realized that despite their immense power, they weren’t invincible, they most likely would have been the koopz that were blogging.

Whomp whomp!

(*I don’t have a good place to stick this, but to put it shortly, the reason Kamek had to be hands off with the alpha koopz is because he used to have a place in what was basically a high magikoopa council. He was assigned to train Bowz to fulfill the prophecy when he was first born with his star child powers. Bowz was NOT a very good student and put himself and many others in danger as they searched for the other 7 star children. When the council hit their last straw, they nearly elected to execute Bowz, who was a child at the time, and start the process over. Kamek traded his spot in the council to spare him, as he had grown attached to Bowz. Bowz overheard this discussion and shaped up quickly. Kamek has never found out Bowz knew of this deal.)

Version 3.0 of AskTehKoopz:

All of the above in 2.0 still happened, however there is now an additional twist.

The prophecy’s a lie! Sort of!

This one was on BoomPom mun. I joked about an article referring to Kamek as a koopaling and unfortunately we came up with something tragic:

Kamek was ALSO part of a set of koopz BEFORE the alpha koopz! Whoa!

Back nearly 100 years ago, there was supposed to be a prophecy. It wasn’t Koopa Kingdom specific, just a general “Well whoever can harness these powers will be able to take over”, it just happened to be the Koopa Kingdom that found out about it first (they were a group of some mix of archeologists and scientists, I don’t remember fully*). It was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. These powers would awaken and they HAD to find someone to use them. Kamek, along with these 7 other kids/teens, were given the opportunity of a lifetime to essentially be vessels for this crazy power to help bring this prophecy to life (literally signing their souls away. The powers NEEDED a soul to latch onto and a body to stabilize itself with).

(*I think that BoomPom mun and I vaguely discussed they might have been the same people who ALSO were the ones who created the cores for the splorches that eventually became Sol, Simon, and Scotty. Yet another experiment that went terribly wrong. These guys are on FIRE. 0-2!)

So Kamek and these 7 formed a really tight sibling bond pre- and post-power. But uhhhh you really shouldn’t be giving crazy raw magical prophecy power to children. Absolute bonkers idea.

Despite their extensive training, it didn’t end well. They genuinely worked so hard to try to be the ones to help bring empires to their knees, but they were only children. I didn’t have a specific incident, all I recall was that the power was WAY beyond their control, and all 8 of them died.

Except.

Through some fail-safe Kamek set up prior to their last hurrah to revive all 8 of them (he felt something might go wrong when they did what they did), Kamek was revived. Alone.

Left in the ruins of what their own powers did to them, Kamek had to live with the guilt that he lost the prophecy, but more importantly, he lost his family, too. Unless he did something about it.

So, despite what a terrible idea it was and how dangerous it might have been, knowing these powers were linked to his sibling’s souls, he decided “I know the prophecy was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But I’m gonna make it happen again somehow. I do not care.” And with the star child powers he still had, he tried to revive them again. Despite the blood, sweat, and tears poured into the ritual, it didn’t work.

Years passed, he’s on the magikoopa council and eventually, after finding kid!Bowz, he’s like “...Hey wait a minute, I weirdly recognize you.” (Magic vibes, general demeanor, etc.) He discovers wow! The prophecy is back on! I did it?! I DID IT?! Soon he recognizes slowly that each of the powers/souls got transferred to a random kid they need to find.

So they find the alpha koopz (i.e. cartoon koopalings) and uh. Yeah they’re all bratty asshole versions of his found family, but well. It does bring him a strange comfort knowing they’re slightly living on regardless. However Hip and Hop are weird. Like. Finishing each other’s sentences, acting in tandem, etc. It’s extremely bizarre. And he’s not really sure WHICH of his siblings Hop is?

Unsure how, but he finds out oops, after restarting the prophecy for a second time, his star child powers got sort of weird because KAMEK WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD. The other 7 star child powers traveled with the souls that stabilized them, however Kamek’s star power DIDN’T HAVE A SOUL TO TRAVEL WITH CAUSE… KAMEK IS ALIVE? So that raw star power was like “Ummm… Uhhhh…… Where do I go? I need a soul to latch onto, I am an insane amount of power…” Luckily Hip and Hop are twins, so naturally, it latched onto Hip’s soul and shares a soul between the two of them while also trying to make its own soul, but it can’t do it right. Super fine and no issues happen because of that at all. They aren’t offputting and weird, I promise.

So Hop was essentially SUPPOSED to have Kamek’s soul pre-packaged with the power, but Kamek is still very much alive, so it’s sort of. Trying to make due. It’s both halfway between Kamek and Hop while ALSO soulless but ALSO trying to use Hip’s soul to ground itself while ALSO trying to artificially make a soul for itself. It’s a mess. Just understand Hop’s star child powers are a mess because Kamek is still alive.

Of course, like in 2.0, the alpha koopz’s Game Over happens, and the prophecy is broken again. Kamek assumes “Well. That’s the end of that. I don’t have enough magic power to try and restart it again, because half of it was in that freak child, so I definitely can’t do a second round of that.”

Everyone in the Koopa Kingdom, including Bowz, are like “Don’t worry, there’ll be another way we can fulfill this prophecy! They came back the first time! People were wrong that it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance!”

Kamek plays along with it, being like “Yep, that definitely happens naturally. Obviously we’re going to have another set of star children. There were no outside forces that made it happen a second time.” You know. Like a liar.

However, SURPRISE! ROY AND IGGY SHOW UP! AND ROY’S ACTING LIKE ONE OF HIS SIBS! OH GOD, I DON’T THINK THIS HOW ANY OF THIS IS SUPPOSED TO WORK. I LITERALLY DO NOT THINK THIS IS A PROPHECY THING ANYMORE. DID I ACCIDENTALLY TRAP MY SIBLING’S SOULS IN A NEVERENDING EXISTENCE LOOP CURSED TO LIVE VICARIOUSLY THROUGH OTHERS FOR ETERNITY? ALSO WHO THE HELL IS IN THAT ONE? (LOOKS AT IGGY)

(This is actually what this sketch on turtle-pen was about, with Kamek’s concern over them not being messed up, like how Hip and Hop were, haha)

So uh. Yeah, Kamek isn’t sure WHY the cycle is continuing, and he’s almost positive the prophecy’s not even really a thing anymore, but the star children stuff sure is! And the powers/souls are already super unstable by the time they get to blog koopz, and it only gets worse as time passes! (One of the earliest examples of that magical decay was Roy suddenly getting an impulse to shave his head to match Bully/pre-koopz “Roy”. Eventually this kind of thing would start happening later on down the line in higher frequency with the other koopz as well. This is actually what the third sketch on this post was alluding to. In fact, Iggy’s is actually the most unstable magic of them all, because ever since the fake-out death with Kamek, whoever got HIS star child powers was always going to be the weakest/most unstable magically. More about this will be covered in Roy’s section below)

The Koopz

What order did they all end up at Bowz’s?

I talked about how each of them got to the castle in their bios, however if you can’t piece it together, the order is Roy/Iggy -> Ludwig -> Morton -> Wendy -> Larry -> Lemmy. Junior, I think, showed up between Wendy and Larry. Bowser just walked in with him one day. None of them know where he came from.

Why is Iggy a vegetarian? Also why are his eyes like that?

I’m gonna keep it buck: Iggy is a vegetarian purely because I wanted an excuse to make him monster-y sometimes. In 2.0 Koopz, I justified it by the star child power (being inherently a magikoopa power) not meshing well to him being a Toad, playing off the idea of Toads and Koopas being diametrically opposed.

There was a sliding scale of “how lizard” someone was based on how well their species reacted with magikoopa magic (I only remember Iggy being the most “lizard-y” and Larry being the 2nd most “lizard-y”, This is also why his eyes are like that and why he and Larry have split tongues) Eating meat weirdly triggered some primal urge in him due to the magikoopa thing, I guess?

In 3.0 Koopz, I genuinely have no reason why he can’t eat meat or has weird eyes since I got rid of the lizard-y scale, I was gonna figure it out later, haha. The 2nd pic is actually him after accidentally eating Pom’s burger when his veggie burger got swapped at a restaurant.

Who was that kid in the flashforward meme?

That’s Ozzy, Iggy and Pom’s kid! He melts! :) (cw for body horror and blood in that link) But it’s okay, he gets better!

To put it plainly, in 2.0, Pom accidentally gets some of her DNA in Iggy’s clone nonsense, and oops they have a kid now. He is NOT genetically stable. Drama ensues, and they have to figure out how to get him to not completely unravel.

At first, we thought that maybe Iggy should have him melt and clone him again without the memories of melting and present it as something he worked tirelessly on (and BoomPom mun drew an excellent comic about Pom’s reaction to it), but we couldn’t justify any way for her to forgive Iggy for basically replacing Ozzy, and Poggy was just too important to us to break up. We were stumped.

And long story short, the book Ludwig was reading when he was in se7en-sib’s world was one about DNA cloning. (But that’s spoiler stuff for se7en sib’s blog that I won’t get into, heh heh) And Ludwig, despite it being the perfect opportunity to have Iggy traumatize and disappoint Pom, tells them about it and that they should visit se7en-sib’s Kamek somehow to fix it. (He does fix it! By melting Ozzy and recreating him again. HOWEVER Ludwig and Iggy have to swear to secrecy about it. They take that shit to their graves.)

So he’s better now!

ROY:

Roy had started on the path of his biggest plot points being covered (him finally ending up with Boom and slowly showcasing his natural inclination to being a leader, despite NOT wanting to be), but I didn’t get his biggest two out of the way (one of which I’m glad I didn’t get to yet): Roy cheating and Roy almost dying.

Koopz 1.0 - Roy was going to be transphobic (specifically enbyphobic. This is actually one of the reasons he doesn’t like Larry all that much), but over time he’d learn that that’s a personal problem. He specifically had a lot to unlearn of his biases of what inherently makes someone a man/woman. Ludwig’s transition was fine with him, but Larry “switching” didn’t make sense to him. (His definition of a “man” was severely warped by his abusive father) This is actually still canon, but he learns better, of course.

Roy was also going to cheat on Boom via a night of drunken infidelity. The big twist was going to be that it was with a woman, and along with him, we find out that he’s bisexual. After some thinking it over, I ultimately decided, despite the drama that would ensue, I didn’t feel particularly comfortable perpetuating what I didn’t realize was a “cheating bisexual” stereotype. Morton’s bi as well, so maybe it would have been fine? But I was like “Uhhhh noooo I shouldn’t do that.” (I wish I could find the pic BoomPom mun drew in reference to when they got locked in a room together by Pom and Iggy to “talk it out”. Boom was punching the wall next to Roy and it was real dramatic. Oh well!) There was also a discussion about a compromise of him sleeping with other people, but letting Boom know about it beforehand? It was gonna be MESSY, haha!

Koopz 2.0/3.0 - Him coming out as bisexual changed to what was going to be a comic with Roy confronting the fact his hypermasculinity was exacerbated because he felt that not being solely attracted to men was a win for his shitty dad. (It makes sense in HIS head: being gay but also being hyper-masculine and liking pink was to piss off his dad. But if he’s actually also attracted to women, then his dad gets what he wants, right? For him to like women?) It was going to end in a sweet moment where Boom reassured him being bi didn’t mean his dad was right about him.

Now to Roy almost dying. Hoo boy. So as mentioned, the star child powers they all got were already quite unstable. As time went on, things started unraveling at a quicker pace. Roy started having weird flashbacks/visions in his dreams (only telling Iggy), which are of course visions of the alpha koopz. Soon enough all the present-day koopz would start to have moments where they physically re-enact something the previous star children did. This was especially prevalent when certain koopz interacted with one another (like if Lemmy and Iggy brushed by each other, suddenly they’re acting exactly like Hip and Hop again for a short while). These moments not only got more frequent, but longer as well.

And we’d build up to Roy, like Bully, on the roof, the rest of the koopz in their hazy, lucid states, encouraging him, like the alpha koopz did so long ago. None of them would be really in their right minds, it was all going to be very dramatic. There was gonna be rain and everything, building up to the inevitable of the cycle being broken again.

What’s the difference this time around? Roy’s dating Boom. And Boom solves this the only way he knows how: by clocking Roy in the face before he almost slips and falls. So Roy gets knocked out, which manages to knock ALL the other koopz out of their weird stupor.

This plotline gets resolved by the koopz having a heart-to-heart with each other, with Bowz, and with Kamek, who comes clean about the whole prophecy thing, which isn’t quite real anymore (due to the 3.0 change). Professing how he just missed his family and didn’t want any of this to happen nor did he know any of this was going to happen.

Ultimately they’d come to the conclusion that they need to let these weird soul/magic things go, to stop anchoring their souls and not allowing them to move in, and to let the koopz live how they were supposed to. Kamek can’t guarantee they’ll be able to even harness magic anymore, or honestly if this would even work, but they end up performing a VERY extensive, painful, and tiring ritual that allows Kamek closure, allows the blog koopz to meet the alpha koopz for a moment, and allows them to live their normal lives. (As koopa royalty, but you know.)

There was also a planned Nintendask event where Roy was going to raise his father from the dead to confront him about his shitty behavior. Chaos was going to ensue and there was going to be a small “Zombie apocalypse” event similar to the revolution arc that occurred.

IGGY:

The main things with Iggy had already pretty much occurred: Hooking up with Pom -> Love poisoning himself -> Confrontation with Ludwig about it -> ??? -> Profit. Honestly there truly only one plot point that didn’t get to be touched on, and that’s Marilyn! (Those who follow turtle-pen probably know Marilyn)

Koopz 1.0: Like I said, at first the star child powers were going to be specifically magikoopa and make Iggy super weirdly unstable magically. He at first would dye his hair blue/yellow/pink (Hop’s colors. This is pre-alpha koopz) to not stick out in Toad society. His parents were a LITTLE worried about his nonconformity. He was going to run away from home, because oops he ate meat and hurt his parents pretty bad. I THINK at one point this switched to him accidentally killing them, but we don’t talk about the Edgy Koopz Era. This was switched back to harming them pretty soon after.

Koopz 2.0: After the introduction of the Hop thing, it now became less “He dyed his hair to fit in” and “He dyed his hair because he Mysteriously Doesn’t Know Why.”

Truly the biggest change/introduction was the inception of Marilyn. HE IS… Once again a thinly-veiled excuse to shove some favorite tropes onto Iggy. BoomPom mun and I got super into the Jekyll and Hyde musical (specifically with Anthony Warlow), and we went “Iggy should get a Hyde thing going on”. So in combination with the weird “can’t eat meat lest you go sicko mode” thing, we decided to justify it by making it be Iggy try to get rid of his “lizardness”. (This was when the lizard scale still existed) It manifested as Marilyn, who REALLY hated Iggy and REALLY liked Pom. Shenanigans ensued.

Koopz 3.0: Once the lizard scale was taken out, we were like “Uhhhh Marilyn shouldn’t exist anymore”, however unfortunately I love him. So YOU REMEMBER THAT LOVE POTION ANTIDOTE THAT POM GAVE IGGY THAT MADE HIM SICK? Yeah Marilyn came from that now. That weird star child magic latched onto this manifestation of emotions that became his own being. Sue me, man.

You can read more about him on turtle-pen, but the end-game was that Marilyn was sent to Sol’s lab to work for him so he could be humbled and he fell for Bob. A huge nerd. He also became besties with Scotty. The end.

Outside of this, I really had no other big sweeping plot points for Iggy to cover, other than him and Boom learning to get along, potentially meeting Boom and Pom’s actually alive parents (This was only briefly discussed with BoomPom mun, and we didn’t plan much further than that other than AU discussions), and the introduction of Ozzy.

Oh and Iggy was also going to come to terms with IDing as agender during 1.0, but I ultimately never got around to confirming it.

MORTON:

I believe really the only big plot situation that was going to happen for Morton was developing further about his crush on Birdetta only for him to get turned down. I was juggling seven kids, man.

Other than this, I don’t think I ever fully explained how he lost his leg? It was implied in his flashback, but his father (a hardass) was the type to be like “Speak when spoken to” to a degree that was unhealthy. At the military base he was raised on, he managed to get a pretty bad cut on his leg, but, in fear of his father, he never spoke up about it. It developed sepsis and well you know how that goes.

LARRY:

Koopz 1.0: The biggest change was Larry getting hit with the Edgy Koopz Beam as well, similarly to Iggy. He was normal, then shifted to being more violent, back to being normal again.

Koopz 2.0: Even in 1.0, Larry was always planned to have been dealing with depression and anxiety via… self-medicating. However 2.0 is really what changed the cause from intrinsic to extrinsic. The main thing that exacerbated his smoking habit, depression, and anxiety was that he found out they weren’t the only set of kids Bowz had dealt with. I don’t know how, but he somehow managed to find out about the alpha koopz. He kept that secret to himself, but it not only made him feel replaceable/used, but it soured his opinion on Bowz as a whole.

Ultimately Larry was going to get therapy, discuss with the other koopz what he knew about the previous star children, and eventually ween away from his drug habit. I can’t find the post, but I did mention it when doing some ask meme about rating ships and someone sent in a Larry/Weed one and I went “0/5”, haha.

LUDWIG:

There’s honestly not much to say here. Truly most of Ludwig’s arcs have been concluded: his crush on Pom has been wrapped up, him coming out to the koopz as trans (officially) has happened, and he’s on track with his HRT.

The only current plan that had been in motion was to more properly have him and Iggy talk it out and Pom be a wingman for him in his further romantic endeavors.

I suppose that there were also potential plans for him and Scotty to end up together because. Um. They’re cute. (There was also a mild discussion of him and Trudy as well, but there was a lot more discussion between BoomPom mun and I about him and Scotty!)

WENDY:

Similarly to Morton, Wendy didn’t have much going on on her end in regards to big arching plot points either, other than ending up with Chuck eventually and also confronting her insecurities with feeling like she’s not very special!

LEMMY:

And like Morton and Wendy before him, uh. Lemmy didn’t have much! The only planned thing was the drama of his type 1 diabetes diagnosis and that’s IT. Maybe bring back his mom since that was touched on?

Endgame for the Koopz:

They were going to give up their star child powers and return to normalcy, as mentioned in Roy’s section. However they’re still royals so of course it’s still a weird and exciting life for them. I believe they all still end up with the ability to use magic, but it’s much more elbow grease then they’re used to working with.

Roy was going to have a kid with Boom! Unsure if biologically/magically or adopted. Somehow they get their little girl, Stevie, though! I think Roy would also get in touch with his estranged sister that I only just realized I haven’t brought up (4th pic here!).

Roy and Larry were going to end up as co-DJs together working at a nightclub.

Iggy and Pom were gonna have Ozzy, and honestly? Kinda just continue to get into crazy shenanigans. Iggy wanted to rule the Koopa Kingdom but somehow he manages to get convinced not to. (He would NOT be good at it) Iggy would also get in touch with his parents again. They really did miss him after all of these years.

Ludwig and Wendy are going to be the ACTUAL co-rulers of the Koopa Kingdom. They were both so hard-headed and stubborn about it, fighting tooth and nail to make it to the top, Bowz just crowned them both. I think Ludwig also would get in touch with his bio-family as well.

I don’t remember in full what was going to happen with Morton and Lemmy as their end game? Lemmy might have become a circus performer and Morton the military general of the Koopa Army? I really don’t recall to be honest!

And that’s it! That’s all the plot I remember! If you made it this far, thank you for reading!

#nintendask #asktehkoopz #koopalings #super mario #10 year tumblrversary #I HAVE. 20 MINUTES TO SPARE BEFORE IT WAS NO LONGER THE 26TH. Also just so it's clear YES the last pic's colors are a reference to SMB3!#also yes I did blatantly steal your redraw idea BoomPom but I THINK I told you this hIOLKJFD #ALSO ALSO SHOUT OUT TO THAT PERSON IN FEBRUARY WHO SENT AN ASK SAYING THAT LUDWIG'S ARC WAS A PERFECT PLACE TO CAP OFF KOOPZ #genuinely helped me come to terms with potentially not updating anymore ;v;)b!! because. You're right!! character growth!!#iggy koopa #roy koopa #larry koopa #ludwig von koopa #wendy o koopa #morton koopa #lemmy koopa #iggy draws

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herefortheships · 8 hours

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About that ending scene + Lydia and Betelgeuse's connection

I've been thinking about BJBJ's ending dream/nightmare scene, and I thought I'd give my two cents as to what the purpose and meaning of this scene could be.

I have only watched the movie once, but that ending sequence stuck with me as one of the most memorable moments in the movie, if only for how disturbing it was (to me).

That said, what I interpret as the purpose of this scene is really simple:

This scene serves to show the audience that Betelgeuse is not only not gone, but that he is indeed psychically connected to Lydia as he mentions early in the film. They have both woken up from the same fucked-up nightmare, thus showing that their connection remains intact.

This is what I think the scene itself means:

The birth of the Beetlebaby was Lydia's rude awakening. She can't simply banish Betelgeuse by saying his name three times anymore, because they are psychically connected (I'll talk more on this below). Sure, he will go away, but not permanently. Never permanently anymore.

Why does the baby come out of Astrid? Because that is the element of horror that turns the dream into the nightmare that shakes Lydia (or both Lydia and Betelgeuse) awake. It doesn't matter if Lydia decides to go and live her life with Astrid, ignoring the events prior, Betelgeuse is not gone.

Betelgeuse is not only still hanging around Lydia, exactly as he was at the beginning of the film, his connection to Lydia runs so deep that they can even share dreams/nightmares now (or he can at least enter or manipulate her dreams, and if they go with this one, then that means the terrifying Beetlebaby birth might have been placed in her dream as a little revenge for banishing him. Does Betelgeuse even sleep? I digress).

I think this is the very thread Tim Burton could use to start preparing Beetlejuice 3. Lydia and Betelgeuse's psychic connection. I do not think this was a throwaway line, or like Betelgeuse deluding himself, thinking that he and Lydia are connected. As I've said, I've only seen the movie once (bummer I was going again this week but something came up), but I'm sure there is enough solid evidence to support this. Beetlejuice is able to project images of himself around Lydia, without being summoned. Lydia is able to see glimpses of him because of this connection. The final dream sequence calls back to that line earlier in the movie and supports it/proves it to be true: they are indeed connected.

Now, here's the thing (and we're entering head-canon territory here), this isn't something he did alone; this can only happen because of Lydia herself.

We now know Astrid inherited Lydia's ability to see ghosts, what if there is more to it? What if they have psychic abilities that go beyond just being able to see the dead? I know the first movie made it seem like Lydia could see the ghosts because she was "strange and unusual", but I feel that this movie established that this is an ability that runs in her blood, as Astrid inherited it from Lydia. What if it's something that runs in her family? The answers could lie with Lydia's mother, who we now know is still alive.

As I said above, Lydia cannot just say Betelgeuse's name three times to get rid of him now; if she truly wants him gone, she is going to have to do something different. She will have to figure out a way how, and that's the story thread that could lead us to her finding her mother in the next movie.

Now, the keyword here is if Lydia wants to get rid of Betelgeuse.

This might be the reason she can't fully get rid of him just saying his name; it might even be the reason they're connected in the first place: She doesn't truly want him gone. It might even be her psychic abilities that are keeping Betelgeuse's presence from leaving her alone.

Take it with a massive grain of salt, obviously, as this is all speculation. But the movie sort of implied that all of Lydia's relationships have failed. Even her relationship with Richard, which seems to have been great. For what little we were given about it, it looked like he was someone she really connected to and loved. But something didn't work out there, despite this. Could it be that whatever connection Betelgeuse feels with Lydia that has led him to single her out as the love of his life, in his own words, Lydia has felt herself about him, albeit subconsciously (and perhaps much to her horror)? Lydia might have been intrigued by him for years, pushing it down due to her fear of seeing him again. She could be simultaneously fascinated and terrified by him. He is a very powerful demon and she wouldn't want to do something to cross him again, especially since their final interaction saw him betrayed from a contract he didn't stray from. She might have been fearful of Betelgeuse being vengeful.

But he wasn't vengeful. In fact, much to her surprise, he'd been longing to see her again for over thirty years.

Lydia now will have to grapple with her conflicted feelings for Betelgeuse and figure them out in the next film, if we're lucky to get it (and I have no doubt we will).

She could say his name three times, banish him away, but then her heart would summon him right back to her, and thus whatever psychic ability she has which also enables her to see the dead pulls him right back into her life and keeps their connection alive. It would be interesting to see if it turns out that it was her own feelings about Betelgeuse that have always kept him around "just out of reach" all this time, giving him a way in and keeping their souls connected. Like she subconsciously has known all this time they are meant to be together (soulmate storyline, if you will ✨).

#In which I have many ideas for a third BJ movie lol #Beetlejuice #Beetlebabes #Beetlejuice and Lydia #Beetlejuice x Lydia #Betelgeuse and Lydia #Betelgeuse x Lydia #Beetlejuice 3 theories #Beetlejuice 3 speculation #About that ending scene in BJBJ #Beetlejuice Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice Beetlejuice spoilers

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wexhappyxfew · 1 day

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in this light

(a/n): AHHHH HI, HELLO, AND SURPRISE!!!!! me managing to get a piece of writing out during the WEEK?!?!!? during the SCHOOL? WEEK? who am i. i don't know. but here we are. and i promise.....to my annie x brady girlies....PLEASE ENJOY. this has been a long time coming and something i've been carving and building out for months at this point. and i am so incredibly proud to have gotten to this point. so please, truly, enjoy! <333333

Annie Bradshaw was convinced that the greatest emotion a Bradshaw was capable of both withholding and expressing was guilt.

Guilt for a life that would never be lived.

Guilt for leaving the one you had put your roots down on across an ocean.

Guilt for the people who would never see that same person they saw shutting the door that day she had left.

The guilt she felt now, her family's letter curled into a ball in her pocket as she stared up at the moon shining through the sliver of window glass at the top of the bunkhouse doors.

Guilt made her feel that she had left her family behind for the sheer fact that she thought she could do something better in this world than harvest crops and take care of the chickens and the eggs they laid.

Guilt made her feel that flying in a plane that no longer had its original commanding pilot was something that was nearly scornful - something to regret.

Guilt made her feel that everything that had led up to now was her fault - the reason they were all trapped here, stuck here, frozen in time - even if it weren't.

To feel too much hurt.

"Psst." Annie craned her head over her shoulder and found a darkened figured approaching out of the darkness of the dimly lit hallway of the bunkhouse, "That you, Annie?"

Leave it to John Brady to find her in the midst of the night, even if it meant crawling out of the warmth of his bunk to try and seek her out. There was nothing more in this world that was beyond the presence of John Brady in her life. Despite the lives they now lived day to day in this camp, he had made it infinitely more tolerable in every way imaginable.

"It's me." Annie said quietly, watching the moonlight slowly pour upon his face and his beautiful eyes that settled onto her once he had stepped into the brighter light.

The smile on his face was enough for her to offer a small one back and it was only a matter of a second before he was evaluating her there. He always seemed to know right from wrong and in that instance, that something was bothering her.

"You okay?" he asked her, stepping forward and almost instantaneously wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "You looked….distracted earlier. I hope you don't mind that I followed you out here." Annie smiled slightly and bashfully glanced up at him, his warm arm around her shoulders hugging her into his comfortable side, stabilizing her there against his large form, his hand slowly rubbing up and down the length of her arm.

A person in her life had never been so stable, so firm, so present - so willing to be there even if the worst of circumstances.

Even with where they were now.

John Brady had been the ever-present person he was - the constant.

"Not if it's you." Annie said quietly with a nod and she watched his smile grow fonder, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a soft way that would be indescribable by morning.

In the moment, she could see it all now, but when she would wake, she'd be watching him from across the room, fighting to remember the feel of his arm around her, his eyes on her. It wasn't until moments where they were side by side did she truly let her heart feel the way it did about him - he let her lead, he let her stand on her own, be the command pilot she was and still is.

But he would hold her in the middle of the night, kissing her forehead, letting her nestle away into the crook of the warmth of his neck, praying to disappear into the presence that was himself.

He'd whisper the sweetest remarks, the softest words that made her smile and laugh. He was more than just a friend, but in anyway possible, she didn't know how to get past that feeling - of knowing there was more, but that death was always a willing option to follow. Annie wanted to protect every bit there was of the John Brady that was stood beside her right now in anyway she could.

Whenever she loved too much, she always fell to that - how could she protect a person so lovely from who she really was?

How could she protect them from the world?

But Annie knew it was fruitless. The world would march on around them, she'd peel back her layers and show who she was - and the world would still spin. How would she make it stop for those few seconds to truly show who she was to him? What he meant to her?

"I see your back at it with the moon, huh?" he asked her quietly, his grip around her shoulders tightening a bit and she leaned into his side more, cheek pressed up against the colder, outer exterior of his coat, molding herself into the side of him. Her eyes drew themselves to the moon again.

"Yeah." she said quietly, "First clear night in weeks. Figured I would go applaud the sky for that one." Brady managed a small chuckle and she could sense that he was glancing down at her again.

"You doing okay?" he asked. She took a moment to collect herself before pulling her head from his side and looking upwards at him warily.

"Fine…for the most part." she said with a convincing nod, offering him a smile again as she looked at him.

"How about yourself?" she asked, reaching forward to brush his longer strands of loose hair from his forehead and out of his eyes, "You look tired." And she knew it. She could see the exhaustion displayed on his face that he was hurriedly trying to cover up with those smiles and tender looks.

John Brady was someone that knew her far too well - and who she knew far too well, too. His presence didn't go unnoticed, his fight, his want to stay alive just like the rest of them. But that wearing on him stayed just as ever-present as anything else in this life.

"Nah," Brady said softly, as she continued to softly run her fingers back through hair, "not too tired. I think I'll always be tired."

"John…." Annie said quietly watching as he quirked out a smile at her, "I'm serious."

"Even if I'm tired, I wanted to make sure you were alright," Brady said quietly, before smirking, "especially if it means it's just you and me right now." Annie looked up at him, her cheeks warming the slightest bit. The whisper of his voice tickling her ears and her skin, that soft look in his eyes enough to make her knees shakes.

"Well, you got me." Annie said, rather boldly looking up at him, attempting to maintain what composure was left in her as he watched her. If there was anything, she'd never feel guilty about the way John Brady looked at her and treated her. She felt like the only person in the room sometimes when she'd catch his gaze.

"That I do." Annie's cheek heated more.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked him quietly, her hand stopping in his hair a bit, her eyes wandering towards his, her free hand itching to grab his own.

"Ask away, Bradshaw." he said, tilting his head to the side, those stubborn strands of hair hanging in his eyes again, to which Annie reached forward to brush back again.

"If I'm mistaken, one night, you….Mr. John Brady, whispered something that's been in my mind for a bit too long." she said quietly, watching as his smirk grew, the moonlight making his face and eyes glow even in the darkness. Her palms grew sweaty as she retreated her hands and crossed her arms in front of her, the large presence of Brady in front of her seeming to swallow her whole.

"What was that?" he asked her, voice lower this time as his eyes roamed her face, before settling on her lips - this time, lingering longer than was needed - before traveling back up to her eyes.

"Well," Annie said clearing her throat, fighting the smile on her face, "if you could focus your gaze on my eyes, maybe I'd tell you, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." Annie was damn-near sure every emotion was about to burst at the moment, but she managed to hold it together in front of him - how she even did that was a miracle in it of itself. Annie took a step closer, looking up towards him, her eyes staring deeply up into his and smiled slightly.

"Someone wanted me back at Thorpe Abbotts, in nothing but his A2 jacket. All by ourselves." she whispered quietly. And watching the recognition in his eyes had to be her favorite part of standing there, inches from his face, the tiny realization clicking across his face until the tops of his own cheeks were dusted red.

"Didn't know you felt that way about me, John Brady." she said quietly, watching him swallow nervously - seeing him suddenly almost out-of-place made her heart wobble. There it was again - that want to shield him from the world, protect him, keep him at the peace in which they'd manage to maintain in a place like this.

God, what was he doing to her?

"Didn't think you'd hear that." he managed out, but she could tell he was just trying to get words out of his mouth. She'd managed to stun him it seemed in anyway that was possible to stun John Brady. And in this light, where it was just the two of them, inches from each other, where it almost felt like they were the most vulnerable that they'd been, she managed a small smile.

"I'm only teasing you." Annie managed out, her nerves getting the best of her as she watched his face continue to flush crimson - even if the moonlit darkness, her own cheeks were nearly hot to the touch and his presence there across those inches between them was enough to warm her entire body up.

"I thought you'd been asleep. When I'd said that." he managed out again and Annie couldn't help but nervously look away from his gaze and towards his lips there in front of her before trailing her eyes upwards again.

"Oh." she said quietly, unsure of what words to conjure up next that would make sense. He thought she was asleep - but he'd still said it. He'd still said those words and she'd been thinking about it ever since.

"Did you mean it?" she asked him, holding her gaze on his. How she hadn't turned away yet, she'd never know.

"Every word of it." Brady said, his voice filled with nerves, but equally confident that he'd meant it. That'd he meant every word he'd ever said to her since he'd helped her up into the back of Bucky Egan's jeep.

For a moment, as his words rang in her ears, she stood there staring up at him.

Every word of it. Every word of it. Every word of it.

She would never feel guilty about what she did next.

Slowly, she reached forward, placing her hands on his broad, built shoulders, before letting them travel up his neck towards his cheek bones, which felt like they were practically on fire. God what was she even doing?

She let herself step forward, right up against his body, tilting her head upwards as Brady slowly looked down towards her, those inches between them suffocating as she stared into his persistent gaze. He seemed frozen there in front of her - almost like he couldn't believe what was happening, though neither could she.

"Annie…." Brady whispered, his voice tight, like it was caught in his throat, fighting for a way out. She watched him, looking up through he lashes towards his beautiful face that had never looked more safe, warm and protected right where they were. He had never looked more like himself than in this moment.

"You can touch me." she whispered - the boldness was more than a surprise to her it felt, from both of them, as he reached forward, wrapping his arms rightly around her waist, underneath her jacket, large hands splayed across her back as they each seemed to breathe in shaky breaths of air, mixed between them.

His eyes had never been more locked onto hers as she slowly moved her left hand from his cheek up into his hair, watching as his eyes flickered and he swallowed, maintaining what composure the two of them had left.

The stillness around them almost made her retreat all the sudden - them, the two of them - stood in the hallway of the bunkhouse in the middle of the night, the strobes of the moon shining right into the bunkhouse as best as they could, onto the two of them, wrapped in each other's arms.

But the second she came to focus on his eyes again, those eyes, she was gone.

And for a moment, her eyes fluttered close and she envisioned the touch of his hands on her back, what it meant to just be held so close to him, after everything he'd done for her and with her. Holding onto her like his life depended on it. Her hand up into his hair, her other on his cheek - enough for when a small noise escaped his lips, did she shut her eyes fully for a moment.

Life had always been about Annie Bradshaw getting close to everything she had wanted, but having it ripped away from her in a matter of seconds.

Right before all the good things would happen.

Right before things would finally change.

Everything was always gone in seconds, even if it had taken years to get where she had gotten.

But now?

Stood with John Brady inches from her face, she had everything she had ever wanted. Right. Here. Right in front of her.

"John-"

Before she could even finish his name, her entire body became pressed to the front of himself and his lips had pressed right onto her own, a small gasp at the back of her throat dying at his touch. And soon his hands were exploring the length of her back, her own touch feeling its way up into his hair, the small groans from his lips making her a little crazy on the inside. Everything about John Brady made her feel a little crazy though - how he looked at her, treated her, talked about her….touched her. With intent and purpose and meaning.

Everything meant something when it came to the two of them.

Even when they had only thought it to be nothing more than friendship. It had always meant something more. They stumbled a bit of feet and toes as her back pressed against the wooden wall beside the door, his kisses intoxicating and dizzying in more ways than one.

And John Brady?

He knew how to kiss.

For all his mannerisms and politeness and gentlemanly way of affairs - she had never been kissed like the way John Brady kissed. His hands had made their way to her neck, the large palms pressed against the hot skin of her cheeks, fingers dancing towards her jawline and hair, his lips persistent and deepening.

There was something natural about being pressed up against the wall, John Brady kissing her, her mind spinning in circles as his tongue pressed against her bottom lip.

And before she knew it, they pulled away for a brief moment, gasping for short bits of air between them - along with the sudden realization that she was sweating all over.

Annie met Brady's gaze and found him already watching her, with one of the most dazed looks she'd ever seen on the man. She didn't have words for what it meant to be standing there like this in front of him, watching his gaze linger on hers longer and longer. There were no words to describe this feeling - she could only let herself feel what feeling this actually was. Love.

"I should've asked to kiss you, but I couldn't-"

"John." Annie whispered quietly, cutting him off as she inhaled a deep breath, "You didn't have to ask." He watched her and slowly nodded. Then he smiled.

"I mean every word I said," he whispered with a small grin, "so…..may I kiss you? Again?" Annie looked up at him, grinning like he was almost innocent and let out a small laugh, her cheeks warm, his own cheeks red, their eyes glowing, bodies inches from one another there in the darkness.

"Please do." Annie whispered, and the small laugh that left Brady's lips, that smirk on his face, made her lose her mind as he pressed his lips deeply and slowly, enough to make her eyes shut.

Brady moaning into her mouth did something to her insides as she pressed herself closer to his body, her hands traveling into that lush hair of his that her fingertips had been begging to touch for days by this point after that look across the bunk room, that longing look, the way his eyes had turned nearly insane as he had watched her, the urge to reach out and have him slam her against the wall previously overwhelming.

But now, they were here and he was kissing her, and she was kissing back with just as much urgency, the two of them falling apart in each other's embraces.

For a brief moment, they separated, their lips still inches from one another as they took in soft breaths of air, eyes shut, simply holding onto one another in the silence of the night.

Annie had almost expected to feel crazed. She had expected to feel suddenly all over the place and overwhelmed and unsure of what to do next. But with Brady, she felt the farthest from that. She'd never felt more calm and safe and protected and content than in this moment of time. With him.

Then, she heard Brady let out a small chuckle, before gently pressing his lips to hers before pulling back again. This time, she did open her eyes and look upwards towards him. She smiled. He was smiling that gorgeous grin.

"What?" Annie whispered.

"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that." Brady said quietly. Annie watched him with a quiet gaze - his words seemed to strike her somewhere deep inside her heart. To hear those words. He'd waited.

Any memory that she had seemed to share with him before this moment flashed through her mind.

She remembered all those early mornings sharing coffee with the rising sun, the soft breeze, the shared quiet gazes. Those dances at the flying club, the times he'd offer his hand and spin her on the floor and then they'd go back to those quiet glances and small smiles. All those times he'd come to find her and check on her, all those moments before missions, when death could undoubtedly become imminent. Who'd made her feel both comfortable and confident and more herself than she'd ever been. And she'd never had another person who could do such a thing to her.

Annie slowly reached forward and without any second thought, wrapped her arms around the center of his form, hands clawing up the back underneath his jacket as she snuggled her head against his chest.

All her life, all she had wanted was to be able to let her guard down around someone else without being judged, torn apart, or told off for it. Someone who wouldn't let her get lost in the darkness, who would willingly hold out their hand towards her and take it head-on with her. Someone like John Brady.

Slowly, Brady wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her head there in the silent darkness before resting his cheek atop her head. And she could sense him smiling there, just the slightest shift in his grin.

"I've waited a while, too." she whispered softly and he let out a quiet laugh to which she couldn't help but grin. Brady chuckled quietly again.

"How about you stay the night?" he whispered quietly. Annie pulled back, looking up at him with her arms still wrapped around his center and smirked.

"Almost like we're not in the middle of a P.O.W. camp." she said and watched as he smirked at her words and shook his head.

"I just want to know you're right there next to me when I go to sleep," he whispered quietly and his eyes grew serious as he watched her, "especially here." Annie managed a tender smile and reached up onto her tip-toes to kiss his lips softly.

"You got me." she whispered against his lips, before grinning and fluttering her eyes close, 'No funny business though." Brady laughed.

"No funny business?" Brady asked her quietly, his hand sliding up under her sweater to her warm skin, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what I mean." Annie said quietly.

"Do I?" he whispered back and her cheeks warmed. Did she? Annie met his gaze again and watched his eyes trail across her face. Pressing forward, she put her lips to his ear and grinned.

"How about you stay the night in mine?" she whispered, before unlatching from his warmth and turning away down the creaky, dimly lit hallway. Glancing over her shoulder, she found him watching her from the moonlight, that wide grin on his face. She smirked as she disappeared into the bunk room - she was sure she could see that smile in every universe and know, more than anything - that it was him. She'd never feel guilty for loving someone like him despite the world and the war.

She'd do it all again to see that smile - to see him.

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dreadsuitsamus · 1 day

Text

First | Choso Kamo x Reader |

author's note: this is a sequel to that small first kiss imagine i wrote a while back, and i've finally found the steam to wrap it up! i love this guy 🩷

pairing: choso kamo x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, explicit smut, fingering, dry humping, friends to lovers

Frost nips at Choso’s delicate little nose as he has a cigarette out on the balcony, his habit uncaring about the weather conditions being less than stellar. It’s cold, though not snowing at least. His dark hair is down, the ends tickling the back of his neck while a beanie covers the top of his head and ears, keeping him as warm as possible in this thirty degree weather. Shooting a gaze over his shoulder as he blows the smoke with the direction of the wind, he peeks inside of the window to see if you’re ready yet, but the living room is still empty. So, with his question answered, he turns back around and looks to the sky.

It’s been a handful of weeks since he first kissed you, and he’s kept his word: a kiss every single day, and usually more than once a day at that. And naturally, as one would hope with frequent make-outs, things have progressed a bit beyond two friends just kissing to heal old wounds. You’ve been friends for quite a long time by now, and it’s been so easy to transition to this budding romance, the expected awkwardness and general weirdness you thought would appear not existing at all. Choso puts out the cigarette and discards it with a flick to the busy city street far below him, climbing back into your apartment and shrugging the hefty coat off of his strong, broad shoulders once he’s closed the window.

“Oi!” He comes to tap his knuckle against your closed bedroom door. “We still gotta get a cab, babe, come on! We’re gonna miss our reservations.”

“I don’t know what to wear!” Your voice wails from behind the wooden barrier between you and Cho, and he sighs. He’s not sure why he didn’t expect this of you, as you’ve historically always been the late one in your friend group.

“Whatever you wear is gonna look great!” Choso pouts and leans against the wall. You’re not convinced, though, and you look between the two dresses laid out on your bed. It’s your first date with Cho, and despite knowing him for over seven years, you’re as nervous as you’d be on a blind date with a proper stranger. You’re treading a line finer than the baby hairs at the back of your neck, after all, and on the line is something too precious to lose.

But also on the line stands the chance for a relationship that could flourish into the best thing you’ve ever had. Frankly, there should probably be more butterflies rumbling in your tummy!

Moving to the bedroom door and pulling it open to see your dear friend, you take his large hand in yours and tug. Happy to be dragged anywhere you take him, especially into your lair as you’re half-naked under that little silk robe, Choso easily follows your lead. He doesn’t hide his sneaky little grin well, and you bat his arm with a laugh, warmth withering the nerves away with the comfort that, at least, he thinks you're hot. Cho’s the same as he’s always been, after all, and the reminder melts the tension from your shoulders. “You’re dating me now and still acting like this?”

“Am I supposed to stop?” He murmurs, tugging his beanie off and threading those long fingers through the chocolatey locks, fluffing it up a bit and then smoothing it out.

“I hope not.” Sinking your teeth into your lip, you pick up your two best dresses, holding them up and turning to Choso. “So, which one do you think would look good?”

His amber eyes don’t linger on either choice and instead scan that skimpy lilac robe that hardly reaches your mid-thigh, his hands closing into tight fists while his Adam's apple bobs steadily. He’s always thought of you as attractive, no doubt, and that’s why he kissed you on that sweet night your friend group passed around first kiss stories. You deserved an amazing first kiss and Choso wanted nothing more than to be that for you, to erase the memories of that dreadful man you gave your all to. His intentions aren’t all pure, however, and he hopes to God you can’t sense it.

He would kill your ex if given the chance. How dare that bastard take and take every ounce of your spirit, crushing you beneath the weight of his impossible expectations, carelessness and general assholery? Choso’s made it more than his personal mission to wipe out every memory, heal each scar and destroy any and all lingering ideas of doubting what you deserve. You should be loved, adored, cherished…

And fucked absolutely senseless.

If your first kiss was no good, your first time couldn’t have been halfway decent either. And he hasn’t wanted to admit it, he wants to be good and proper and show you what a gentleman is like… But every night it claws at him knowing that you’ve never been shown a good time. Knowing that your beautiful body was never worshipped, never adored and doted on or prioritized at all kills him. He should take it slow like he planned, he knows. It’s what you deserve!

But he’s going absolutely mad at the sight of you now and frankly, it shows; your chest flips at the look in those warm, hungry, honey-hued eyes. “Cho?” Your voice, so soft and pretty, quickly jolts him back to his senses. Shaking his head as if to knock the naughty thoughts from his brain, Choso takes a proper look at each dress you’re holding.

“Uh… They’re both… nice.” One has a plunging neckline and the other one is so short he’s not completely sure it’ll cover your ass! Why don't you just write ‘tease’ clear as day on your forehead while you're at it? Not to mention, it's thirty fucking degrees outside and he's not looking forward to giving up his coat when you get cold!

“Just nice?” With a defeated groan, the dresses are tossed onto the floor and you’re back to the drawing board in your closet, flipping through your array of sundresses, evening gowns, club outfits and more. Choso’s close behind as you walk away, a confused crease forming between his brows as he takes in just how packed this walk-in is. He could swear he’s seen you cycle through the same six or so outfits since he met you! How could you possibly have this many clothes??

Blinking himself out of the stupor, Cho places warm palms to your shoulders, rubbing a gentle massage into your skin. His touch is magical, and any other time would be quite soothing. But the nerves that line every inch of your body are just too frayed for a simple shoulder rub to cure this time. “Baby, it really doesn’t matter what you wear-”

“Of course it does! This is our first date!”

Okay, time to re-route.

Choso presses a kiss to your temple, hands gradually marking a path to your hips, taking the scenic route and enjoying a few selfish squeezes along the way. With soft lips at your ear, you shiver at how Choso touches you. This relationship— situationship?— is still fragile and fresher than a newborn baby, and while the kissing is plentiful, that's about as far as it really gets.

“Relax...” Cho murmurs quietly, squeezing your hips and rubbing at your rear. “Breathe, baby. It's all okay.”

Melting like butter, Choso’s touches light your eyes with lust and, dragging your wet tongue along your glossed lips as a soft moan passes by, you fall easily into his embrace. “Cho…”

With a trail of kisses smattering your neck and shoulders, Choso coos. “You could wear a paper bag and I’d still be fighting off all the other men in the room. And all the other girls could be naked and I'm still only gonna be able to see you. I mean it, babe. You're just that perfect.”

“... What if I wore nothing?”

Choso kisses a spot he's not sure he's touched yet. “Then we'd both be in jail, but my sentence would be a lot longer than yours.” Murder is, after all, a bit more than a frowned upon misdemeanor.

“And what if you wore nothing with me?”

A small smile is hidden into your skin, Choso's lips pressing insistently to your neck as his large hands come to pull at the knot at the front of your robe. “Then I think we're missing our reservations tonight.”

You're leaned back against him fully now, head rolling off to the side to allow him more unbridled access to the column of your throat. “Who likes that restaurant anyway?”

“You're right.” Sharp teeth nip gleefully alongside a low chuckle. “What's another six week waiting list, hm?” Your robe slips from your shoulders after a light, insisting tug at it by the small of your back. By the time it's pooled at your ankles, the silky fabric cool on your skin, Choso’s hands have resumed their exploration of your body.

His hands are cold still from his smoke break, which sends goosebumps down your delicious body wherever he touches you. His mouth, hot and minty with a tinge of cigarette, plants a kiss on the shell of your ear, his low voice whispering against you in a way that lights the rest of your body up.

“You’re so pretty.”

Your nipples, covered by a pretty pink bra with strawberries on them, peak as your cunt is struck with a lick of lust; you never dreamed before that Choso would be one to make you feel this way. He's always been just a friend, a guy you never really realized even had a penis, let alone one you'd like to see and touch and more.

How time changes things!

You turn in his arms, pushing up onto your tiptoes into a desperate kiss, one that nearly sends Choso off of his feet as your dalliance moves from the closet and to the bed. Boldness strikes him and he's turning your back to the bed, the edge of the mattress knocking the back of your knees before you're guided down, Choso’s large hands holding your figure tenderly.

“Can I touch you?” He murmurs, hands completely still despite his lust swelling below the belt and beneath his ribcage. Even with the general flirting, kissing and touching going on, to make the true transition of friend into boyfriend is a heavy step, one he doesn't want taken back.

Adoration-fueled goosebumps scatter your body, the tingling feeling in your breast and thighs meeting in the middle for a warm flooding of your tummy. Cho is so delicate, so thoughtful and considerate… It makes your desire for him triple in the single blink of an eye.

“Please.” His whisper is more urgent now, a frenzy building behind warm, amber eyes. He'll certainly stop if you command him so, but you couldn't dream of doing so now.

Your fingertips brush against the strong, solid line of his jaw, feeling his smooth, pale-toned skin. “Yes. Everywhere.”

Choso’s lips crash onto yours immediately, greedily having a fill of your sweet, pretty lips as the pads of his fingertips graze your body, massaging small circles into the warm, electrified flesh of your hips. The thin line of your panties taunts him, that and his own clothes reminding him of how far away he really is from you.

“Choso.” You murmur at his short hesitation, playing with the little hairs at the back of his neck. It soothes him, as intended, and he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek while dipping his thumbs below the band of your skimpy underwear, toying with the fabric before running his hands up your beautiful curves and carefully removing the thin bralette to see your breasts, bare and beautiful for the first time.

Choso’s mouth, hot and honeyed with his wanton saliva, glazes over one of your gorgeous, pert nipples. A shiver trembles down your spine and a soft little moan passes your lips as his tongue swirls and lips suck, and the encouragement is enough for him to slowly dip his hand beneath your panties, those long fingers finding a hot, sticky mess to play with.

The feeling of your juicy cunt on his hand, the way your pretty little clit hides between the succulent lips of your pussy… It makes Choso harder than he's ever been. A harsh shiver overtakes him as his fingers lather in your sweetness, two of them carefully dipping inside of your hole.

“Holy fuck…” His warm breath fans over your breast, his forehead resting against you while he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you. The way your walls just suck him in, so greedily, so warm and inviting and… and god he can't believe how hard he is. “You're so perfect…”

Heat fills your entire face at his admission. All he's done is for your pleasure, yet he's panting and groaning like you're the one touching him. Is it really possible for a man to feel pleasure from giving, rather than receiving?

With the way that rod in his jeans pokes at your leg, it must be.

“Cho, you feel so good…” Your face buries into his hair, the dark chocolate locks smelling of strawberries. He never did seem like the type to buy the “manly” ten-in-one types.

“No, you do.” Choso presses a sweet kiss to your collarbone, urging his long fingers deeper inside of your core, spreading your sticky, thick nectar over his digits. He relishes the feeling, the way your pussy grips him and asks for more and more and more. And he gives it to you, finger-fucking you faster and filling the room with raunchy squelches, the addicting sounds only urging him even further.

“So good… Pretty pussy, sweet pussy…” It's as if he's drunk, intoxicated on you and all you're giving him. He slips a third finger inside of you, gentle in stretching you open to accommodate the girth of the three fingers together. All he wants is to feel you, simply just can't get enough of you around him.

“Ch-Choso, fuck, mmmmmmmm fuck!” He's hitting all the right spots so perfectly, prodding the spongy spot inside. “I-I’m close, honey, so close…”

Sharp teeth sink into the curve of your breast, quiet growls muffled into the flesh. You're so close, and he's going to get you there, all over his hand. He needs it, you need it, god he needs it…

Your back nearly snaps as you shoot up into an arch, cumming harshly and moaning loud enough to piss off the neighbors, who also happen to be your friends, though once Nobara is past the interruption of her beauty sleep she'll surely be joining Yuji in giggling about it.

Choso's rutting relentlessly now, withdrawing his fingers from your cunt and to his mouth, moaning as he licks and sucks every ounce of your essence from his digits. This man, your friend— boyfriend, is dry humping your bed while suckling his own fingers that are drenched in your taste, getting off on pure you…

He's absolutely perfect.

Pulling his hand from his mouth, you cup his strong jaw and pull him up for a kiss, and he adjusts himself between your legs, the tinkle of his belt buckle the only thing keeping you in the moment enough to realize he's shoving his pants and boxers to his knees, that lovely cock (that you had no idea he was packing below that belt) springing up against his stomach before he lays back down, his hot cock leaking against your ruined panties as he ruts.

His large hands rest on either side of you, holding him up so he's not pinning his weight down and crushing you, and you play with his hair as he comes closer to orgasm. The bedspread is bunched into his fists as he crests, his lips no longer able to cooperate with yours as beautiful, hot, sticky ropes of thick, white cum burst from his purpled tip, covering your lower belly and panties in his seed, all whilst groaning entirely unintelligible babble.

This is the first time in your entire life that you've felt so sexy and desirable, and the warmth in your chest blooms into a strong heat, a flame of love and adoration that may never burn out.

Choso falls to the left of you, his chest heaving while he gathers himself. He glances your direction, and with a bit of an embarrassed smile, he slips his hand into yours, squeezing warmly.

#choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso x you #choso x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagine #x reader #reader insert #fic

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lilacxquartz · 2 days

Text

uncanny valley;

summary: being a travelling merchant, you often sold all sorts of oddities to willing collectors, however, something was surely off about this client in particular.

a/n: for that one ask that requested something darker & lore accurate. reader insert but mostly to explore their character, this is not x reader. • masterlist, ao3

themes: lore accurate kenjaku, torture using gravity CT, disturbing themes, violence, hurt/no comfort, unending yapping, gender neutral reader • w.c: ~3k

Travelling across the world to both curate and sell strange artefacts had become something akin to second nature for you. At often times, these things were tied to jujutsu—so you’d part with varying sorts of cursed objects, scrolls and trinkets that felt as though they were imbued with an unseen energy.

At least to you, given that you were not a sorcerer.

Collectors were usually a mixed bag of people; sometimes it would be private hobbyists or institutions seeking to expand their wealth of knowledge available—but nothing could have prepared you for an interaction with one collector in particular—oh no, no, no, they were different.

You would often zone out as they spoke too, simply because it was partially nonsensical but also because it would be long and unwinding. Such words that were otherwise spoken with velvety smoothness only to offer very little explanation or even comfort beyond their chilling tone left you feeling nothing short of wary.

And yet, it wasn’t as though you had the option to just walk away either with something unseen that willed you into listening—that compelled you into staying against your own innate fear. It was as though when they spoke, your gut instinct anchored like an unseen weight, binding you to the ground.

“You know, you claim you still can’t see them,” the man spoke, their words oozing from their lips like molten honey; slick like velvet yet stagnating with unsettling stiffness.

You cleared your throat. “Pardon?”

“The entities that are invisible to the naked eye for the majority of humanity,” they clarified, but only just. “You claim to only be slightly put off the trinkets you curate and sell, likely due to the unseen cursed energy, but what if I told you that you could see those things too?”

Once again, you were lost. Something told you that this person must have been a trickster of some sort; a devil disguised as a human being. They were certainly charming enough and the mockery that laced every word that rolled off of their tongue was surely telling too. For that reason, your gut instinct screamed at you to not trust a single word that this individual spoke.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” you carefully replied as to neither dispel your curiosity nor their claim without giving into it.

The man stayed silent for a moment while allowing a slow, creeping smile to stretch onto their face, creasing the almost perfectly marbled skin they wore. No, this being couldn’t have possibly been alive, at least not in the same way as you. Jujutsu was still a foreign subject on your ears and there was a whole lot that you still didn’t know, but you could at least recognise this entity as being far from human. Perhaps at one point they were, but the way they acted felt almost rehearsed, as if they didn’t quite belong in the body they lived in. There was something rather telling about that deep blank stare and the eyes that looked right back at you; void black dots that were unyielding like space itself—except unlike the vast stretch of eternal darkness adorned by the glitter of stars—there was instead nothing that could be reflected in their gaze.

Just pitch black vastness.

Humans—regular humans, non-sorcerers—did have a term for something like this; a feeling that someone or something was out of place. What was the name for it again? The unease that you felt when looking back at this entity was not unjustified nor was it a reach, but rather perfectly well appointed. You were feeling that currently, you were pretty sure, because you weren’t being looked at by this thing—you were being analysed—maybe even dissected.

“Technically speaking,” the man continued, leaning in ever so slightly so that their long black hair swayed forward, “all of humanity, sorcerers or not, regardless of origin, are able to see these manifestations that the Jujutsu community is gate keeping the existence of,” they added, snapping their fingers to hold your attention. “Ever had a nightmare that left you feeling off in the waking world? Or have you ever felt… watched in your bedroom late at night? Perhaps it’s something that you have convinced yourself over the last couple of years in your time as an adult that being afraid of the dark is childish, so you pretend that the threat isn’t real nor there. But why is it otherwise that humans had long feared the dark and all of those things that go bump in the night?”

“Well you can’t see in the dark,” you muttered out, trying to follow their line of thinking, “so it’s a fear of the unknown, isn’t it?”

They hummed, seemingly satisfied with the direction of where your train of thought was headed. “Correct. Now, it’s mostly children who have these retained fears. A fun little fact is that children under the age of ten, gifted or not, have been speculated to be ten times more likely to see cursed spirits than in adulthood, so let me ask you this: why is it that children are more likely to see them than their adult counterparts?”

You shrugged that time. “A more active imagination?”

They half scoffed, shaking their head. What a boring answer you just gave, they thought. You were being purposefully vague and withholding the true extent of your answers just because you didn’t want to entertain them due to a lack of trust. While this might have all been fair enough, it was surely concerning to them that this was the norm; people simply didn’t thirst for knowledge nor practical answers anymore. How bleak your life must truly be for you to purposefully shelter yourself from their fleeting tidbits of acquired wisdom that made life better worthy of living and dare they even say, exciting.

Was your sense of self preservation truly that important?

Was your life truly that worth living if that was all you had to say for yourself?

They sighed, wanting to lead the lesson in a particular direction instead. Your insolence for ignorance will be punished all in due time, regardless. “Because of a lot of things,” they continued once again, “but for the most part, it’s due to their lacking rationality.”

“Yeah?” you replied, feeding right into their trap. “Because they’re naïve?”

The entity nodded as they plucked a trinket from your stall, their voice adopting a more casual tone, “Correct. By having less control in their emotions and less understanding of the world around them, they’re more freely exposed to the chaos otherwise left unchained by the cursed realm. Which leads me to my next big question; where is a place that exists in the adult mind to let go of such sensibility and let our thoughts run free?”

Admittedly, this was fun in a way. You couldn’t help but want to solve the riddle they kept tempting you with. Perhaps you could technically dip into the depths of hell and indulge in something not too terribly condemning, after all, just far enough to get your answer.

“A dream?” you answered, thinking back to the mention of a nightmare from earlier before.

Suddenly the man erupted with almost excited glee, settling the object back into the stall as though reaching some sort of breakthrough with you, “So you were listening!” they genuinely praised, their voice becoming playful. “Very good, very good indeed. Dreams are where our souls roam free, succumbing to the chaos of irrationality and lacking structure alike. When you go to sleep, you’re entering the space between dreams and reality, potentially opening your mind up to the cursed realm and I'll bet you that any sort of oddity that you’ve ever come across while asleep, be it in an oddly realistic dream or nightmare, that you’ve witnessed it first hand yourself.”

“And you’re saying that dreams are a gateway to seeing those creepy things, or…?” you asked, trying to keep up yet again.

“Something of the sort, yes,” the man replied as they widened their creepy smile, “now, think clearly for me, will you?” they requested, snapping their fingers yet again as though to hold your focus lest you drifted away. “As an adult, just as you are now, when is a time that you can catch a glimpse into something unseen that lacks that same sort of rationality? You’re not a kid anymore, so you’re very likely at least a little jaded to the world, either through the hardships of life or due to possible trauma that has sculpted your reality... If one isn’t dreaming, then what option does that leave a non-sorcerer to be able to see cursed spirits?”

In a way however, you hated this guy for churning your mind and making you think such odd things.

…Something that existed between irrationality and the dream world?

Your head went to all sorts of places, but it seemed to all be herded towards one point in particular, leaving you suddenly uneasy with where this was all going as it all finally clicked.

With a lower voice that was just above a whisper, you entertained the question once more but with less confidence this time, “…a hallucination?”

“Very good! How clever you are,” the man replied although their voice seemed to now carry a particular coldness to it. “Let’s consider the fact that in order for a hallucination to bleed into the waking world, there have to be certain conditions applied to their psyche that are strong enough to both bend and warp their reality. This can be accomplished through a sudden trauma response such as psychosis or when facing something extreme. For example, for you, I’m going to give you a demonstration of something far simpler than driving you to insanity just yet, because you see, there’s a point in everyone’s lives that people all get to experience a great emotional stir—a moment that invites vulnerability to awaken, where hope no longer exists—such a slip of weakness right before the embrace of—“

“—death?” you finished up their sentence, interrupting their spiel.

“What a good student you are,” they praised once more, “such an academically gifted mind is surely worthy of a demonstration, don’t you think?”

Your mind blanked upon those words, opening itself up to both doubt and negativity just as they had planned for you to do so. So suddenly were you caught in between all of the readily thrown implications that they had otherwise casually implied.

You didn’t want any hand in any sort of offered demonstrations and yet you already knew that you very likely didn’t have a choice.

Without warning, you felt as though your own two feet fused themselves into the ground yet again but it wasn’t a fear response this time around. It was a slow pull that followed, but you gradually could feel as the air left your lungs by a squeezing unseen force. From a glance up, you could tell that this was their doing and that they were taking their good sweet time in doing so.

“Now, I must warn you…” the man threatened without as much breaking a sweat; their expression unwavering with nonchalance with their tone returning to something jovial, “my demonstration is likely to leave you… breathless, for a lack of better words.”

Unable to protest against the warning, you could only endure as the shifting weight of the air around you locked tight against your chest. The air, thick with something dry yet salivating at the same time scratched at your throat as the simple act of breathing quickly turned into an impossible task. It was as though the oxygen that was otherwise plentiful around you had turned solid and thereby became inaccessible.

Following another attempt, you desperately attempted to inhale only to be met with a pause. The air quite literally refused to enter your respiratory tract and your chest was left unable to expand with a breath no matter how hard you tried.

Panic was secondary upon the realisation that manifested in your system. You tried again and again to gasp, finding that it was all pointless—aimless even, since try as you might—the air remained static and unmoving.

But then a small fleeting sliver of hope slid through your system, whether it was accidental or on purpose, a slight teasing gust of air was granted back into your lungs. Such an act left you with very little comfort however as the world was already blurring all around you; dampening your barely contained light.

All that you could otherwise hear was your heartbeat that hammered loudly in your chest; reverberating like a stray bullet in a metal barrel, darting around in a deafening crescendo. Your chest then tightened once more, forcing your movements to feel sluggish, as though wading through condensed waters.

Yet, surely desperate as you were and refusing to meet your end just yet, you held on out of spite and then finally, you saw it.

Movement that wasn’t from the man alone.

Your vision still blurred, but just out of the corner of your eye, something sinister had since then materialised. Something that scurried off into the clinging shadows of the vicinity in the dead of your blurring eyes. Twisting forms of something grotesque that stared right back at you with skittish eyes.

So these were… cursed spirits?

You understood at long last and so perfectly well too. In a hurry to break away however, you backed up against your flimsy stall, not quite caring about the fragile trinkets that despite looking so dull clattered against the soft ground like clashing steel.

Swallowing hard, you felt your sense of rationality slip away as you caught sight of something malevolent and uninvited but then, as if suddenly, it all stopped. The burning in your lungs had subsided and clarity within your vision had been regained.

Looking up, you could see that their hand was no longer raised, although you were regarded with a curious, unblinking stare.

“W-what was… w-why did you…?” you couldn’t help but blabber as you tried to make sense of everything.

“Why?” they asked in the same tone of voice you cried out in as if to taunt you. “No reason, I just found you both… simultaneously boring yet curious, I suppose. Sorcerers offer their fun at times, but just regular old folk like you are worth the trouble too. It’s fascinating though, don’t you think? You have so little idea of the world around you and even with the amount of knowledge I keep repeatedly providing to you—you still insist on attempting to stay deliberately… ignorant.”

“K-keep on…?” you replied, simply repeating their words at this point. “I keep—what?”

“…Or are you finally getting it?” the man enquired, tilting their head to the side as they looked at you. “You know, I have been… studying you for this whole interaction, even way before you manifested yourself into being a merchant. Interesting choice by the way. I find it especially peculiar how you, someone otherwise unfamiliar with Jujutsu, were able to not trust me or what lies within me. Very observant, indeed. Last time this silly game of ours happened, you were much more lenient with my company, but I suppose you have learned since then.”

You stammered out another response yet again, “Manifested myself…?”

They hummed, seeming almost amused. “That’s right, manifested. But before that, do let me finish, why don’t you? I was going to say that your accusatory self wouldn’t have made it far, had you been a sorcerer with a mind like that. Could you believe it that the modern sorcerers of today aren’t paid to be so questioning and sceptical? They simply exist to do as they’re told and expel the endless negativity that is otherwise forged through the burden of humanity. It’ll never end, mind you, not as long as we as a species continue to exist.”

“So you’re… what? Against humanity or…?” you croaked out.

They shook their head with a refuting motion, “No, I’m for humanity, believe it or not. I want to see it prosper, grow and maybe even evolve. That’s why I have my interest in people like you, because why should the fun be limited towards curse users alone?”

“And you’re…” you tried to piece it all together, but couldn’t quite do it as nothing made sense anymore, “you’re… doing what exactly with me?”

“Or haven’t you realised it yet?” they questioned you, their smile faltering to a disappointed frown. “You have been flicking your eyes around the space from the moment we began the conversation, but you surely must have felt it from the very beginning, no? That this was no ordinary exchange and that your undoing had been predetermined from the start. Nothing is real; everything you see before you is fabricated and carefully orchestrated as a response from your own mind. I’m just playing along with it. You’re being distrusting because you don’t believe the faint glimmer of hope that I’m offering you because we had already been acquainted before. But worry not, the end is much closer than you think.”

You paled. “I’m dying…?”

“Maybe,” they replied almost playfully, not quite offering you a solid answer, “or maybe not. I’d prefer you didn’t let go until I’m done with you, but then again… you’re also no use to me if your brain has turned to mush.”

Not bothering with another reply, you tried to make sense of this whole thing by yourself instead. It was surely jarring as you made the realisation though, the hallucination left your immediate vision and revealed that you were instead in some sort of dingy, dank room instead.

A basement, perhaps?

Your eyes crept down, noticing that you were tied down to some sort of patient chair, like the type you would see at a dentist’s; your ankles and wrists strapped into looping holes that were drilled to the edges. Assorted bloodied instruments lay both on the tiled floor and on metal trays with strewn teeth and pried out fingernails collected in little glass jars.

Come to think of it, your hands felt surely raw and your mouth festered with the taste of trickling copper.

The man before you hovered nearby, holding onto a scalpel in one hand and a marker in the other.

With an almost excited tone, their voice now promised something chilling, “Now let’s see just how far these visions go if you were to be skinned alive.”

Blanking, you panicked and refused.

Which was how you now found yourself plunged somewhere new, playing the role of an adventurer roaming around an unreal world.

(And who truly knew what your next encounter could bring?)

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