#i probably was in a very emotional state when i wrote this

[seariii]

Que horror

[a-kaash-me-outside]

˚₊‧ ᴡɪʟʟ ɪᴛ ʙᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ɴᴏᴡ? ‧₊˚

♡ ft. geto, toji, gojo, higuruma, nanami ♡ total wc: 10.9k // nsfw minors dni! // ♡ contents: ౨ৎ 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ౨ৎ, afab reader she/her pronouns, no smut in gojos or tojis im sorry, emotionally stunted men kinda but they grow isnt that nice (not talking abt higuruma and nanami god no), the aftermath of fwb caught feelings, consolation, emotional aftercare ig, lotta domestic fluff for higuruma and nanami's!!!! (everyone say ty @noosayog for nanami's bc she is the only reason i wrote his) ♡ listen along: casual by chappell roan ♡

- ᡣ𐭩 time passes and people change, and just because you fell first doesn't mean you don't get a happy ending + bonus continuation of higuruma's and nanami's ᡣ𐭩 -

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴇᴛᴏ [ 3 ʏᴇᴀʀs ]

on the list of people that you thought you’d see tonight, geto isn’t even in the top 100, not because of probability or likelihood, but solely based on the fact that you have not thought about this man in years. if you were asked the question from your future self, “holy shit, guess who we saw tonight?” you would’ve listed old friends, distant relatives, exes, minor celebrities, other flings, teachers from high school, people from stories you’ve only heard of, and then geto. 

after that night, you really didn’t see barely any of him. a few posts on your feed: one 2 weeks after and another 2 months after that one when you remembered that you forgot to unfollow him. once on campus: him across a million tables getting lunch with some girl too long after your little thing for you to care about who she was to him at all. once at a mutual (though you didn’t know was mutual at the time) friend’s party close to graduation: you ran into him grabbing a drink from the cooler and neither of you said a single word to each other, just exchanged a very knowing glance.

fast forward a handful of years, with geto not on your mind during a single one of them, and you’re stunned, nearly speechless, as you recognize him across the bar. the track of which your mind is racing takes you stop after stop to thoughts and feelings you didn’t really ask to experience. they follow a curving roadmap in your mind of: why is he here? ↝ wow, he looks great ↝ does he live nearby still? ↝ that’s weird ↝ no, it isn’t weird, i still live here ↝ then what are the fucking chances that he’s here ↝ no, seriously he looks so good

he looks different though, you realize about 3 minutes into sneaking glances in his direction, in some way that you just can’t put your finger on right now. in your slightly tipsy state, you barely stop to ask yourself how you even clocked that it was him so quickly, how there was no hesitance in the recognition or questioning in the placing. he looks really fucking good.

in fact, now that all of the obligatory thoughts have come to a heed, that’s really the only thing that you can think about. how good he looks.

the events that happened that ended your situationship all of those years ago are nothing but outlines now; whatever you said or he said just sounds like underwater conversations. you can see the way that you left and you remember being dumbfounded, but everything else has lost its sting, like a story you’d recall to a friend of a friend in a setting much like the one you’re in. time has handled the memory the way that time does and as a result, when the two of you finally make eye contact after what feels like an hour of missed mutual glances, you offer a small wave. a wave that says, “i remember only knowing you in past tense. we are such different people now, i wonder what it would’ve been like if we met now instead.”

the wave was the first step, technically, sure, but he makes the literal first step. he departs from the conversation he’s been enthralled with for as long as you’ve been stealing glances and he weaves between people in the middle of their own stories before ending up in front of you. 

when he does, he asks, as if he’s just randomly bumped into you rather than intentionally coming over, “shit… is that you?” he puts his hand on the back of your chair, thumb brushing your shoulder.

the friend that you’re with cocks their head, furrows their eyebrows, has no idea who this is or their connection to you, the timelines of their interactions with you spaced too far apart for one to know the other. geto notices this look, addresses it. “we used to…,” he pauses, “see each other? for a little bit.”

you can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from your chest at the way he describes it. “yes, yes we did,” you nod. “back in college,” you explain a little further, “been a while.”

the interaction quiets, the two of you exchanging soft smiles instead of words, and your friend knows where this thing is going before either of you even do, so they bow their head, offer their seat to geto, and take their leave in the name of some bullshit excuse. he takes it without a second thought, asking you how you’ve been, laughing about the time that you saw each other at that party, and after an hour of just talking he says, “yeah, i actually thought about you the other day.”

you nearly choke on the drink he’s bought you. you rush to put it down. “you did?” you ask.

he nods. “i don’t even remember what prompted it. i think, maybe, i saw a photo of myself from college and how different i looked and how different i feel now and then just, out of nowhere, remembered how shitty i was to you.” 

you don’t say anything in return, running your finger around the lip of your glass as you stare at him. you don’t know how to say that you don’t care anymore, that you haven’t thought of those days in years, that the surprise that you displayed a few seconds ago was completely genuine, because you were so convinced that neither of you had. it comes out something like a shrug and, “we were practically kids.”

he answers so quickly, “well, kids or not, i’m sorry.”

you laugh, gently so he won’t think you’re laughing at his apology. really, you’re laughing at the notion of apologizing for an act that no longer warrants forgiveness. you laugh at the thought of giving it anyways. you place your hand on top of his on the edge of the bar. “thank you,” you nod. he nods back. 

when you let him take you back to his place for old times sake, you’re half-expecting the same person from the ghosts of memories from years ago, like all of the things he said at the bar were just a last ditch effort to usher the night in the exact direction that it’s heading in. 

but he’s different now, just like he said he was before he apologized, and you can feel it in his movements and his actions. more confident, more intentional. he kisses you first and it doesn’t taste selfish. it doesn’t feel rushed to get to the main event. he savors it, holds your head in his hands, and doesn’t touch a single other inch of your body until he’s found the right combination of fingertip pressure and tongue that has you melting into his palm.

your mind flickers to the notion that these actions might be pre planned because they feel so meticulous and thought out, but that impression quickly dissolves when he sinks inside of you, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours as he does, his hand reaching down to cup your cheek, fingers nearly trembling against your jaw when he presses his hips completely against the insides of your thighs. 

“shit,” he hisses, hands moving down to your waist, fingers light like feathers practically crawling against your skin, as if each print was so grateful it got to make contact with the softness below. when he grips into the fat of your hips, he’s careful, intentional or not, pressing his thumbs into the bone, but not letting his nails leave a single mark. it’s pressured, but comfortable. 

he holds you in place, slowly pulling his hips back and he can’t help but look down between your legs, watching himself disappear inside of you, a creamy mess at the base, shallow breaths recycled in his chest. 

“hey,” you say, eyes locked on the tenseness of his jaw and the way that he stops himself with sharp inhales. he finds your gaze in a second. “don’t hold out on me here.” you rest your arm on his bicep, fingers curling around wherever they can reach.

you can feel it under your palm, his muscle tensing as his pace picks up, rhythm consistent, but unrelenting. the breaths come out of you quickly and you’re unable to hold any sort of facade. “ah- shit, f-fuck,” you cry, “holy shit.” you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing harshly as strangled noises leave you without vetting a single one.

“n-no,” you shake your head, regretting it instantly as he slows down in response. you shake your head harder, “no, don’t stop, but- ah,” you groan, “your- you were- i meant,” you exhale a laugh, “let me hear you.”

his eyes widen slightly as he processes what you want from him, and then he listens. he leans down to kiss your lips and then your cheek and then your jaw and then your ear. yes, he’s fucking you better than you’ve ever been fucked in your entire life, but that’s not what makes you crumble. no, it’s his grunts and pants and breathy groans pressed right up against your skin. 

you thread your fingers into his hair, twirling the ends of the locks between the tips, raking your nails down the base of his neck to the front, and then smoothing them down his chest. “more,” you mumble against him, and you’re not sure exactly what you mean, but he gives it to you, whatever it is. you’re certain he’d give you anything in the world right now if you just asked for it.

there’s a moment after when you’re lying there with him, shoulder pressed up against his, chest heaving, barely recovered, that you find yourself back in that college dorm. you don’t know why the tightness is rising in the hollow below your sternum, but it is. you remind yourself that you weren’t expecting anything from this anyway, so it doesn’t matter, but it does. you’re not sure if you just don’t want to be treated like that again or if it has something to do with geto being the one lying beside you. 

when you turn your head to face him, he’s already looking at you. he doesn’t shy away in embarrassment, like it’s wrong that he’d be gazing at you after all of that. his features are steady, confident, strong. he smiles softly, brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “should we get breakfast in the morning?”

in the morning, you repeat in your head. you wait a beat, trying to come up with something to say, to proceed with caution or to discern his intentions or to at least not sound desperate, but all that comes out is, “in the morning?” 

he nods, turning on his side so he can stare at you without his neck getting sore. he inches closer to you, kissing the top of your shoulder and then your temple. he drapes his arm over your stomach. “if that’s okay with you,” he says and then kisses you again.

“okay,” you nod back, lazy smile on your lips, eyelids heavy at the warmth surrounding you now as he pulls you closer to him. “yeah, sure,” you affirm, voice so soft and airy that the tightness in your chest is lifted away with the words, all that’s left is a hope you feel comfortable letting stick around.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴏᴊɪ [ 3 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ]

you are not expecting anyone. you have resigned yourself to a nice pair of pajamas and comfy socks and a warm cup of tea and a spot in the living room that you will only leave for a refill and bathroom breaks. you are tucked into the corner of your couch, back pressed up against the sturdy arm, legs crossed, and a throw blanket over your lap.

you are not expecting anyone, so the sound at the door should have felt a lot more jarring. well, it is jarring for a second, a few seconds actually, the echoing disruption bouncing off of the walls of your living room and back to you, but then the noises repeat themselves, like they’re on a looping track, and you realize that-

you know that knock. heavy-handed with a tight fist, back of the knuckles, not the tops. almost pittering out by the end of the three successions, like the first one is direct and assured, but the second and third don’t really bother keeping up. that knock almost makes you run to the door. if it were 3 months ago, you’d be skipping to the door. 

but you hesitate for a few reasons. firstly because when the connection hits that you know that knock very well, you remind yourself to proceed with caution. secondly because it sounds the same but with a difference as small as a hairline fracture. you heard that knock far too many times during the span of a year and a half, and this one sounds almost completely identical, but there’s a half second pause between the first knock and the second knock and the raps feel less impatient. 

you don’t have to look through the peephole to know who’s standing on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you do anyway. if for nothing else, it gives you a slight edge, you’re convinced, like you’ve seen him first, you have the upperhand now. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

toji hadn’t contacted you since he left that day. no texts. no calls. no showing up at your apartment at 3 am. nothing. you kept telling yourself that you’d hear from him. when that didn’t happen, you started telling yourself that you didn’t care if you heard from him. you’ve actually been waiting for this moment, replaying what it would look like if he came back, the things you’d say to him and how you’d say them.

now, looking out at him just standing there, you’re frozen. every scenario you’ve replayed in your head, all of the emotional venting and blow out screaming that you’ve rehearsed and you can’t recall a single scene. you think about leaving him out there, about telling him to go away through the door or just pretending like you’re not home.

“i can see the shadow of your feet under the door,” toji calls out, muffled by the barrier between you guys, and yet it still rings out through your entire body. 

you slowly open the door. though, even if it took an entire hour to open the door, you’re not sure it would’ve mattered. you don’t think time is something that could’ve prepared you for seeing him. seeing him didn’t even prepare you for seeing him. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything, folding your arms over your chest. you just wait. 

“i-,” he starts, but then immediately stops, half sighs/half scoffs as he leans his chest forward, eyes scanning the inside of your apartment, for what exactly you’re not sure. 

“what, toji?” you ask, voice stronger- and more annoyed- than you anticipate it being. you’re grateful for that. “why are you here?”

“shit, this is already hard enough for me t-,” he says, shaking his head, corner of his mouth tugging upward in frustration. 

you narrow your eyes, cutting him off, “sorry, this is hard for you?” you feel like laughing or strangling him more than you do crying, which is a desired outcome in this situation, you suppose. “you know that you haven’t talked to me in three months, right? you haven’t talked to me?” you ask, and you can feel your pulse in your wrist and your chest now, because the lines are coming back to you slowly, one by one, circling your brain, fueling your confidence. 

“yeah, no, of course i know that,” he combats, like you’re the one that’s being an asshole right now. 

you smooth your fingertips against your eyes, blocking the sight of him out for just a second before gesturing with your hand as you ask, “are you going to answer my question or…?”

“look, i said that this is hard enough as it is for me to just be here,” he snaps, and if you were a little less annoyed, if he hadn’t come at this whole thing exactly how he was, you might’ve clocked the desperation in his voice or the uncertainty in his pupils. 

“do you know how fucking stupid you sound right now?” you ask. it’s a rhetorical question. 

one week after he left, you were certain he was going to come back. you and toji had gone a week without seeing each other or even speaking. you had even gone two weeks. sure, the conversation felt much more serious and, sure, really deep down you knew this time was different, but still, you held out dumb hope. 

one month after he left and you realized this was not just him being weird and distant. this was something brand new that you had never had to deal with before. you were still trying to figure out how to navigate it when the two month realization hit: that maybe he wasn’t coming back at all, ever, maybe you had done something wrong. if he had shown back up on your doorstep during that time this conversation would’ve gone very differently you think. 

but he didn’t. he showed up at month three when your reaction to random memories of toji were no longer tears and guilt, but laughter and bitterness. there weren’t many things that toji could say right now that would warrant anything more than you standing in your doorway for 4 minutes or less. 

“i-,” he starts, but then sighs. he looks left, down the hallway of your building, eyes shifting from object to object out of your view. 

“please don’t waste anymore of my time,” you reply and it’s softer than you intend. you thought it’d come out angrier. that seems like a theme for you tonight: everything sounding different in your head. when he doesn’t reply, you start a countdown, promising yourself that when you make it to 15, you’ll close the door in his face. you only make it to 13.

“i’m not here to waste your time,” he says, with no air of disgust or annoyance, the first halfway decent thing he’s said to you tonight. “i-,” he huffs again, “i’m here to say sorry. and-,” he hesitates. 

you wait, just listening. the longer that he hesitates, the more time you have to think about what he might say and how you’re standing with your door open for the entire floor to hear your conversation. you’re not sure what’s worse, having this conversation in the confines of familiar grounds or the openness of neutrality.

“and ask… are you already seeing someone else?” he finishes. 

you’re dumbfounded, blinking at him slowly before responding in the only way you can think of right now, “goodnight, toji.” you shake your head, cursing yourself for expecting anything more.

“no,” he rushes to say and then stumbles over the rest, “i- i tried to see somebody else, quite a bit of other people actually…”

you scoff, squinting at him, saying more sternly this time, with an added attestation of closing the door in his face, “goodnight, toji.”

he reaches out with a quick reflex, grabbing the door before you’ve barely even moved it. “wait, no, i- fuck,” he mutters, scrambling, “can i just come in?”

“so that was your plan then?” you drop your hand from the door. “to come back here unannounced, be shitty to me, ask if i’m sleeping with anyone, tell me that you’ve slept with lots of people, and then ask if you can come inside?” you ask.

“i didn’t have a plan-,” he replies.

“clearly,” you interject.

“but i’m trying,” he finishes, and you’re waiting for there to be more, to explain exactly how this constitutes as trying, because you don’t really see that here.

“fucking christ, toji, you’re going to have to try harder than whatever the fuck this is,” you sneer. 

“we- we had a good thing,” he tries again. you don’t understand how every time he opens his mouth it gets worse and worse. why are you even entertaining this anymore?

“fuck you, man,” you scoff, and it feels like all of the anger has left your body, and in the void where it once was present is nothing but disinterest. 

“no, not like that,” he backpedals. maybe if he would say more than four words at a time, or four better words at a time, then you wouldn’t have to keep filling in the blanks or being pissed off or- “for the last six months of our relationship, i didn’t sleep with anyone else,” he admits like it’s the answer to all of your problems. the word relationship burns at the forefront of your mind so hard that you don’t realize what he’s said for 10 whole seconds.

“i, so what?” your voice is unconvincing even to your own ears. you had slept with other people even 2 months before that last day. that wasn’t the issue. you guys were allowed to sleep with other people. you had an explicit conversation about the fact that you could sleep with other people, something along the lines of, hey, we can see other people right? yeah, we’re not fucking dating. okay, just checking.

the so what, you had already answered for yourself, inner voice replying to your own question, screaming, you guys were exclusive, unknowingly to each other, for 2 whole months before you confessed and he left. 

his answer is much different. he says, “so nothing really. i just- i needed you to know that.”

“well, what the fuck do you want me to do with that?” you ask, and it comes out bitter and discouraged, but what you really mean is, please tell me what you want, please, can you just tell me that you missed me. 

“whatever you want,” he answers instead.

you take a deep breath, a million emotions coursing through your veins and up your throat. “you know what?” you say, and it doesn’t sound angry, it sounds playful, “no, seriously,” you smile and then you laugh, “fuck you, toji.” you close your mouth like you’re done talking, like that’s all you needed to say, but your heart disagrees, forces more words out into the air no matter how hard your jaw is clenched shut.

“you show up here and you’re an asshole and then you’re decent and then you say shit like that and then- then i ask you what you fucking want from this, what you’re trying to play at here and you tell me whatever i want?” you say, exasperated. 

“what i wanted was for you not to leave me three fucking months ago. that’s what i wanted,” you spit, “i wanted you to tell me this shit three fucking months ago before i sat alone, by myself, sad and then angry, and the entire time, fucking missing you, you fucking asshole. that’s what i wanted.”

and then it’s there, out in the open, airing for the two of you to witness and to face, and no matter what happens, you know you’ve done everything and said everything that you’ve needed to. he’s quiet for a few moments and you let him be, not tapping your foot or rolling your eyes or being pissed off, but just letting it play out. if this is the last time you ever see toji, why not just let it play out?

“okay,” he says, and it’s soft in a way you’ve only ever heard from him one time in your entire relationship. “i’m sorry.” he pauses. “i really don’t know how to do this,” he admits and you believe him. it feels different from when he told you something along those lines earlier, but you have a feeling that this is what he was trying to say all along. 

“do what?” you push, because your mind is making assumptions, but if he’s going to prove anything to you, he needs to start now. 

“ask for forgiveness?” he says, like he’s thinking out loud, “apologize? date someone?” you don’t say anything. you’re looking for something more concrete than that. it takes a handful of uncomfortable seconds before he says, “actually care about someone.”

“and do you?” you ask.

his lips press into a thin line, his eyes shift from left to right again. you can feel him getting antsy with the conversation and he’s barely said one vulnerable thing. you look at him, eyes soft and pleading, silently begging him that if he’s grown from this, you’ll let him back in, you swear, but you’ve been hurt before and you know what you’re worth, so you’re going to need some sort of evidence as collateral. “yeah,” he mumbles, but it’s audible. “you,” he says like it isn’t obvious, and it’s quiet and daunted, but you really appreciate the effort.

“okay,” you say, and that’s all you say.

“okay?” he questions, confused. “that’s it?” 

“yup,” you say, but your small smile and the fact that you’re not slamming the door in his face again gives away a bit more than that. 

“can i… come in?” he asks, hesitant, like he’s still being tested.

you shake your head, hand gripped onto the edge of the door. “no,” you say, scrunching up your nose and furrowing your eyebrows. “because if you come in here, we’re going to have sex,” you admit, half because it’s the truth and half just to see the look on his face. (it’s worth it.)

“wait,” he says, placing his palm flat against your door, but not moving it. his hand is now inside of your apartment, the only part of his body that’s made it past this invisible barrier of hallway and your place. “that sounds like a great thing. why am i not allowed in?”

“because this is me having self-control,” you explain, placing a hand on his shoulder and pushing the small portion of him that’s crossed the division back into the hallway. when you feel his skin against your pinky, soft fabric of that familiar shirt underneath your palm, you almost make a fool of yourself right after you say the word self-control, but you remind yourself what’s at stake here, what you really want. 

“i came all the way out here to see you-,” he starts, but he doesn’t make a move to replace his hand on your door, letting his arm fall back to his side. it’s for the better, too, because you’re not sure how much more self-control you have already, no matter how much you tell yourself about longevity and whatever. 

“if you really care,” you interrupt him, using his few vulnerable words against him, “and you weren't just trying to sleep with me tonight,” you pause, letting those words sink in, “you will go home and you will call me tomorrow morning and we will get breakfast- the least sexy meal of them all- and then maybe coffee if i enjoy hanging out with you outside of just having sex with you, and then we will go from there.”

“i-,” he starts to protest, but you cock your head. the truth is, if he said another word, reached out and touched your cheek or your hip or really anywhere on your body, if he kissed you, or just walked inside of your apartment and sat down on your couch, you wouldn’t have stopped him. you might even have gotten breakfast with him anyways. he doesn’t know that, you don’t think, but even if he does, he doesn’t act on it. he bows his head slightly, conceding, and says, “okay. i will just… talk to you… tomorrow… then.”

you nod. “goodnight, toji,” you say, hand on the door, closing it as slowly as you opened it. 

“uh, yea, night,” he says back. you won’t tell anyone, and neither will he, about the stupidest small smile you see on his lips as he leaves your apartment that night or the fact that he wakes up extra early the next morning, muttering under his breath about how ridiculous dating is before he calls you at 9:30 on the dot.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ɢᴏᴊᴏ [ 3 ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ]

being away from ɢᴏᴊᴏ feels like detoxing. not from like hard drugs or alcohol, but… coffee. 

like you know it’s not necessarily good for you, drinking it every day, but it’s a habit you’ve had for a while now and you just can’t seem to break it. it’s not really hurting anything in your day-to-day and you’ve been doing it for so long that it’s probably fine to just keep doing it.

but out of nowhere it hits you that maybe drinking coffee as much as you do is a waste of money and even if you don’t feel the negative effects constantly in your daily routine, you remind yourself of the times where you could distinctly feel the thump of your heart and the unsteady of your hands. you recall the time that you stayed up all night for the promise of a cup of coffee to get you through the day. in every memory that you’ve ever had in your entire college career, you’re holding a cup of coffee.

so one day you make the choice to stop. you stop buying coffee from coffee shops and pods for your coffee maker and cups from diners and accepting free ones from friends. you don’t really need a good cup of coffee as badly as you think you do. and it’s stupid, you think, because it’s just coffee. it doesn’t mean anything. just because you’ve been drinking it consistently for quite awhile doesn’t mean it has any sort of hold over you. it’s just coffee. 

but then the headaches come and the irritation sets in and nights are hard, but for some reason mornings are unbearable, and you feel antsy all the time and you haven’t left your room in the past three days and the only thing you want is a cup of fucking coffee and you can’t relapse with coffee; it’s fucking coffee. 

yeah, being away from gojo feels a lot like detoxing from coffee. 

you try to just not see him. it’ll be easier for you if you just don’t see him, you tell yourself. you go out of your way to avoid his walking path on campus and you refuse to leave your dorm when you don’t absolutely need to in fear of bumping into him or worse, just seeing him from afar, and god forbid you even come within three streets of the corner where his apartment resides. you block his number and you delete social media off of your phone for the time being, too many mutual friends to make casualties, and you do not let yourself think about him. not falling asleep, not when you wake up, not while you’re doing homework, not in your dreams or in the shower, not when something reminds you of him, not when you see his favorite show on your recently watched, not when you really need a good cup of coffee. 

and it works for a while.

but not forever.

three weeks into your detox and you’re doing such a good job at not thinking about gojo that you mix up his monday schedule with his tuesday schedule and on your way back to your dorm, you see him. if you keep walking at the same pace that you’re walking, you will collide with him. if neither of you do anything, one of you will get hurt. 

you look down at your phone, hoping, in the forefront of your mind, that he didn’t see it was you. (in the back of your mind, you’re hoping that he’s the one to break the longest bout of silence the two of you have had since you met.) when you sneak a glance, he’s already almost reached you, jogging to catch up with you. “hey,” he calls out, just in case you haven’t seen him.

“hi,” you say, stopping in place and letting him approach you.

“i’ve been trying to get ahold of you,” he offers, like you wouldn’t have known that.

“oh, sorry, haven’t been on my phone,” you lie. he knows that you’re lying. he can tell that you’re lying, so you don’t really know why you lie in the first place. maybe to prove a point. maybe to make him feel bad.

“look, about…,” he trails off, trying to remember how long he’s been without you, “about that… day…,” he opts for instead. 

you put your hand up, waving the topic off. you mean to say something like, don’t worry about it, see you later, but it comes out like, “we don’t have to talk about that here.” here. fucking here. if you would’ve left those four letters out, it would’ve been a perfect line to walk away with, but you don’t. your stupid coffee-craving brain tacks it on, hopeful. 

“right,” he says, nodding, “should we get coffee maybe, then, or?”

it’s not out of the ordinary, or it didn’t used to be, but now it feels taboo. you want to snap and ask him if he’s sure, because coffee sounds a bit too much like a date for people that aren’t together, but you realize very quickly that the irritation from your coffee detox is maybe a little bit too much to hold in without any closure. “sure,” you agree, “i just got done with class so we cou-.”

“i know,” he says, because three weeks hasn’t erased your schedule from his brain either. 

you order an iced tea. you’re still convinced you’re done with coffee for good. he looks surprised at your choice, like he’s never seen you order an iced tea before, because he hasn’t, but he doesn’t say anything. you sip on it throughout unpleasant pleasantries and it’s refreshing, but it’s lacking something. in fact, the longer that you drink this stupid drink that has caffeine anyways and isn’t as good, the irritation bubbles higher and higher until- “can i start?” you ask, tapping your fingers against the table in rhythmic succession. 

“yeah, sure,” he says, bringing his coffee to his lips and taking a sip.

“if at any point in this conversation your answer to anything i have to say is that we weren’t together, i don’t think we should have this conversation,” you reason, and you mean it, but his reaction takes you aback. you notice the smallest flinch when you say weren’t.

“i wasn’t-,” he shakes his head, sighing, “no, i wasn’t going to say that.”

“okay,” you say, dragging your fingertips along the condensation on the side of your glass. “then what were you going to say?”

he thinks for a minute, like he didn’t assume that he’d get this far when he brought up the idea of coffee. “i wanted to stop you from leaving,” he says.

“but you didn’t,” you rebuttal.

“i didn’t,” he affirms. it’s quiet again. you can hear the scrape of the cups against the table as they’re picked up, drank from, and put back down. the chatter in the coffee shop drones over the sounds of hesitance and nerves. “i’m sorry,” he says after a while.

“so, do you think we were together?” you ask, “and be honest. i’ll know if you lie.” you search his face as he answers, and the only thing that comes up is another flinch when you talk in past tense again.

“yeah,” he says, honest. “being apart from you these past three weeks has been one of the shittiest things i’ve ever been through.”

“ever?” you ask, quirking your eyebrow, as if it isn’t somewhat true for you too. 

he nods in response, continuing, “it’s been hard.” he pauses. “i’m sorry i was so shitty.”

“pretty shitty, yeah,” you agree, but you can’t hide how nice it feels to just talk with him again, to call him shitty and to sit across from him at a coffee shop table. “i’m sorry i ghosted you these past few weeks,” because it deserves to be said too. 

“i really missed you,” he says, and he doesn’t hide from it. he looks you directly in your eyes and you can tell that he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand. you want that too. 

“me or just, like, sleeping with me?” you ask, somewhat terrified of the answer, scanning his face for the truth once again. 

he laughs softly and, try as you might, you can’t stop the fluttering in your stomach or the warmth in your cheeks hearing that for the first time in too long. “please, i haven’t thought about sleeping with you once,” he jokes.

“oh, no? not at all?” you ask, scoffing lightly, a tiny smirk threatening to break.

he forces a thoughtful frown, shakes his head dramatically and says, “can’t say that i have.” you’re laughing now, but through smile-squinted eyes you can still tell that he’s actually being genuine. “not really,” he says. 

“so just me then?” you ask to make sure.

“just you,” he affirms. “a lot of just you.” you hum, content with his answer, but he gives you even more than thought he ever could, “i don’t want to just go back to the way things were. i don’t think that’s enough for me anymore.”

even though you’re sure a response like this would’ve sent waves of shock through your entire body, it doesn’t. it just feels right. you reply quickly, “good. i don’t think it’s enough for me either.” you reach across the table. the back of your hand brushes against his, and then past it. you wrap your fingers around the handle of his coffee cup and bring it to your lips. 

he doesn’t protest or snatch it away from you or make a snarky comment. he places his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow against the surface of the table, and smiles at you. you take a sip from his mug, warmth spreading through every bit of your body. 

why would you deprive yourself of coffee when it brings you so much comfort?

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ʜɪɢᴜʀᴜᴍᴀ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

you’re not exactly sure how many times something has to happen before it becomes a theme. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“do you -huff- want to -huff- have kids someday?” higuruma asks from beneath you, palms resting on the tops of your knees, thumbs massaging up to the insides of your thighs. 

you slow your bounces and then you stop them completely. you blink at him once and then twice. “that is a really wild thing to ask while you’re inside of someone,” you scoff, searching his face for any kind of tone indicator. is he being serious? is he just saying something to get a rise out of you? is this a kink thing?

he smirks, placing his hands on your hips, coaxing you to continue your movements, and you do. you lift yourself off of him, slowly at first, but then picking up speed as you chase the feeling you lost when he asked the question. you’re breathless when he asks again, the repeated question no longer stilling you. the second time around it feels almost normal. “do you?” he asks on his exhale.

you shake your head and then tilt it side to side, closing your eyes so all of the conflicting fast paced movements don’t dizzy you. “i- don’t- know-,” you huff, “maybe- conversation- for- a- different- setting.” each word is punctuated by the slap of your thighs against his hips. he nods, completely okay with that answer, and then just drops it.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“shit,” you say in realization, hips circling, fingers combing through his hair. you pull your head away from his shoulder, pushing yourself up to look him in the eyes. “wait, how did your meeting go today?” you ask, and this time neither of you miss a beat. 

when he slows to think about it, you pick up his slack, rolling your hips, feeling the drag of him inside of you, a breathy moan floating up your chest. he answers over your noises, “really good actually.”

“everything as planned?” you ask further, genuinely just as invested in this as you are in the act. 

he nods, smiling. “yeah, to a t,” he says, wrapping his arms around your lower back and pulling you against his chest. he kisses the side of your temple, holding you in place with a tight grip as he lifts his hips off of the bed, thrusting into you. “surprised you didn’t ask as soon as i came through the door.”

you shake your head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss against his collarbone. “was thinking about it all day,” you explain. he fucks into you faster in response and it feels like a reward for caring about the things that are important to him. “but when- shit- when you got home…,” you grunt, “it completely- ah, fuck- completely slipped my- ah- mind, s-sorry.”

“ts alright, pretty.” he nudges his nose against your cheek, peeling your attention to his face. your cheek rests against his shoulder and you blink at him, focus dipping from the topic at hand as you feel that familiar tightening in your core. he can see it written all over your face, so he drops his head to kiss you, silently communicating that you don’t have to worry about finishing the conversation right now. he’ll bring it up again in a bit.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

“should we get married?” he asks, back up against the headboard, looking you directly in your eyes, gaze following yours as you rise and fall. 

“you are not proposing to me while i’m riding you,” you say, shaking your head, but you don’t still or slow. conversations like this in a setting like this just don’t phase you anymore. honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he did propose right now. you’re not even sure you’d say no.

the corner of his lip tugs upward and he exhales a laugh as he leans forward the smallest bit to kiss you. “i’m not, i’m not,” he assures, “why? would you say no?” 

you’re quiet for a minute, not because you don’t know the answer, but to keep him on his toes. you won’t lie to him, you don’t think, but you don’t want to come right out and say it. his questions are rhetorical anyways, half-jokes that he’s not expecting serious answers to; you’ve known higuruma well enough and long enough to be confident of that. you could’ve replied with an eye roll and a scoff and nothing else and he would’ve dropped it. instead, however, you answer, “course not. i’d say yes in a second.”

he nearly comes inside of you right there.

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

maybe it becomes a theme when someone points it out. 

you can’t tell if it’s intentional or not, the way that the two of you keep having these serious conversations during sex. you know that you don’t do it on purpose; things will just hit you during the repetitive motions and you worry you’ll forget them and you know that higuruma won’t judge you for just saying them, so you do. whether this is the case for him, you’re not sure. 

but the interruptions just keep getting more casual. it starts with big conversations: weddings and promotions and thoughtful decisions, and then it’s like you just start remembering things in this position: work drama and mundane did you knows. it’s almost as if starting with big topics just made it seem so easy to talk about anything like this. 

it didn’t help, you think, that it’s just always easy to talk about anything with higuruma. you guys have been together, officially together, for over four years now, and conversation, no matter the topic or severity or setting, is something you’ve never struggled with. you continue to not struggle with it, inside of the bedroom and out. 

you’re not sure what about the position and the moment makes you so susceptible to remembering little things that you want to tell higuruma when he’s not around, and vice versa. in fact, you’re not even convinced that it’s something about the action that jogs your memory anyway, it’s probably just a really weird and common coincidence.

and then one night you can’t find your keys. 

you’ve searched everywhere for them, in your car, in your bag, every nook of your room, the places where they normally are, higuruma’s coat pocket just in case, and then everywhere else in your guys’ apartment. they’re nowhere to be seen. 

when higuruma walks through the front door, even from where you’re searching in the kitchen, you hear him let out an elongated, “woah.”

you pop your head into the doorway, “don’t say anything about the mess.” you can see his eyes resting on the overturned couch cushions and then on the various opened drawers. “hey,” you warn, pointing towards him as you walk quickly into the living room. you throw your arms around him tightly and give him a small greeting peck. it’s routine at this point; if you don’t do it your whole night feels off. “i said don’t say anything.”

he lets you hang off of his neck as he puts both hands up in surrender. “i didn’t say shit,” he says, pressing a kiss into the side of your neck, then moving his hands to your waist, “the fuck happened here though?” he laughs against your skin and you can feel the vibrations travel to your fingers and toes. 

you pull away from him, shaking your head. now that you’re back in the living room, it’s like you have to start this room’s search over too. you start checking under the couch and in the hall closet. “lost my fucking keys,” you grumble, smoothing your palms over your face, “i swear i’ve looked everywhere. i just can’t remember where i left them when i got home.”

“did you check th-,” he asks, walking into the kitchen, grateful that you’re not in there with him or he knows you’d yell at him for the way his eyes go wide at the clutter and chaos everywhere. 

you cut him off, “wherever you’re about to say, probably yes, ughhh. i’ve retraced my steps, i’ve looked in places that are fucking stupid to look in like every pair of shoes we own and in the fucking guest bedroom pillowcases. i’ve looked everywhere.”

from where he’s stood in the kitchen now, he can see you scrambling as you vent. he leans against the wall, “well, not everywhere or you would’ve found it by now.”

“i’ll kill you,” you say, eyes snapping up to meet his to show how serious you are.

he just laughs, “i’ve got a pretty good lawyer, you might not want to do that.”

“good legal can’t help you when you’re dead,” you snap, almost completely joking. he meets you back in the living room, helping you check all the places you’ve already checked. 

15 minutes pass and then 35 and then he stops abruptly. “oh my god, i have an idea,” he says, and you look at him, hopeful. “you know when you usually remember things?” 

your first reaction is joking annoyance, picking up a throw pillow and sending it his way. he catches it and sets it back down on the couch. “i’m serious!” he yell-laughs. 

you throw another pillow at him as your second reaction sets in. “that’s not going to fucking work,” you say.

“how do you know?” he asks.

“because,” you say, trying to come up with a good answer other than just blind doubt, “because i don’t remember things while i’m riding you. it’s not a fucking superpower.”

“you don’t know that,” he jokes back and braces to be hit with another pillow. “okay, okay, but i’m being serious! besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? you don’t remember and we’ve had sex, how horrible,” he reasons.

you let your arms fall, pillow in your hands resting against the tops of your thighs. you look at him, thinking, which, in hindsight, was a dumb thing to do, because higuruma can see the contemplation on your face. 

eight minutes later and he’s inside of you and you’re the most embarrassed you’ve ever been.

“this is so stupid,” you mumble. you haven’t moved an inch after slowly lowering yourself onto him. you’re fully seated against his hips, hands smoothing over your face and then lingering there, covering. 

he reaches up, fingers soft and kind as he wraps them around your wrists, pulling them away from your face. “ts not stupid,” he reassures, but you’re not convinced. you groan, turning to look away from him, but that just won’t do. he reaches up again, soft grip on your chin coaxing your gaze back to his. “hey,” he says softly, “just focus here, angel.”

you listen, somewhat, mind still flickering back to why you’re even riding him in the first place. “just enjoy yourself, okay,” he tries again, rolling his hips upwards, pressing himself inside of you as deep as he can. you close your eyes, and it’s quite easy to just focus on the feeling of being as full as you are right now. “good,” he whispers, “just like that.”

it doesn’t take long for you to lose yourself completely, moving on your own, letting the whimpers and whines take over any other thought you might think to say, chasing that feeling rather than worrying about whatever you’ve lost. 

it all kinda clicks at once: where your keys are and why you always remember shit when you’re like this.

in the midst of everyday noise, so many things get lost: important and unimportant thoughts alike. but now you’re not worried about anything else. you don’t care about anything else right now. you don’t have to. you don’t want to. and in this state of letting everything go, mindless and blissful, some things slip back through the cracks.

you collapse onto higuruma’s chest, spent and happily aware of this new revelation that you have not, for once, shared in the middle of sex, but kept quiet as a come down surprise. you hum softly as he rubs up and down your back, hum again as he presses a kiss into your forehead. “m sorry it didn’t work, angel,” he murmurs. 

you turn your head, ear pressed right against his heart as you gaze up at him. “i left them in the fridge,” you reveal, and he knits his eyebrows together. 

you assume that he’s going to say something about how did you leave them in the fridge? or why are they there? but instead he questions, “what? and you didn’t tell me until now?” like you’ve harbored a life long secret. you laugh softly, snaking your hands up and scratching your nails against his scalp, playing with the ends of his hair. “don’t think this is going to get you out of it,” he says, “‘ts my favorite thing when you just blurt shit while you’re on me.”

you can feel the warmth in your cheeks and your chest as you breathe a laugh. “you’ve never told me that before,” you murmur. 

“think it’s cute when you just can’t wait to tell me things,” he says, “feels more intimate than being inside of you.”

“ew,” you say, scrunching up your nose, even though you weirdly agree. 

he just laughs in response. a few seconds of quiet comfort pass before he backtracks, “wait, why the fuck are your keys in the fridge?” 

and you tell him all about it, about the day that you’ve had and how you remembered you hadn’t drank enough water so you were refilling your bottle from the pitcher in the fridge as soon as you got home from work, but your hands were full so you set your keys on top of the leftovers from yesterday, but then you had to go and set everything down and the fridge closed and by the time you left the kitchen you remembered you needed to do something else… and it just keeps going.

you tell him as you’re taking a shower and as you’re eating dinner together and as he’s brushing his teeth and you’re washing your face and laying in bed and setting your alarms. every room in the house is a mess, but you’ll deal with that later, you decide. you rest your chin on his shoulder. “and how was your day?” you ask, even though the clock reads much later than it should for how much sleep you both should get before you’re up early for work tomorrow. 

nevermind that, he decides, and tells you all about it anyways.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ʙᴏɴᴜs! ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ [ ɴ/ᴀ ]

“can i ask you something and when i ask you, you’ll know i don’t mean anything bad by it at all because i love you more than everything in the world?” you ask, putting down your phone only after you’ve finished your sentence. 

you wait a few seconds for nanami to take in what you’ve asked. he reaches over to the night stand for his bookmark and sticks it between the pages. he shuts it with an audible shuffling of paper and a sharp thump. 

nanami has been with you long enough to not typically be surprised by your out of the blue… questions. (dronings? is there a word like droning but the connotation is more positive? like you talk at him a lot and he loves to hear the ramblings in your brain, but sometimes he is just trying to read his book before bed. whatever that word is.)

he places the book on his lap and then turns his chest towards you completely. you now have his full attention. “is that a yes?” you ask. 

he inhales deeply, “if i say no, will you still ask it?”

you think on the answer to that question, really mulling it over before shaking your head. “no, i don’t think so.”

“then yes,” he smirks, “i suppose i have to say yes then.”

“great,” you say, tossing your phone onto your bedside table with a clunk. you sit up straighter, rocking forward to fully adjust your position on your side of the bed. you put your hand on his thigh and cross your legs, letting your knee rest on the side of his comforter covered hip. “do you ever regret not dating more?”

it definitely takes him by surprise. he thought you might drop another weirdly specific hypothetical about would he love you if… or request a glass of water even though you already told him tonight when he was getting into bed and he asked if you wanted one, that you did not. 

now he’s the one mulling over your question and despite how nerve wracking it could be to wait for an answer to a what if that involves not you, you’re not anxious in the slightest. you’re quiet, just waiting for his answer, and when he finally speaks, you know exactly why you weren’t scared in the first place, “i’ve honestly never thought about it since i met you.”

“really?” you ask, and you’re mostly feeling very lucky that nanami is yours and you are his, but there is an underlying feeling of guilt that he’s unintentionally caused with this statement. 

he nods. “sounds like you have though,” he says, and it’s not even a little bit judgmental. it sounds like he’s imploring you to keep talking, like he wants to hear exactly what you’re thinking, why you brought it up in the first place.

“i wouldn’t trade this security, this love, exactly what we have, you for anything in the world,” you start to explain, and it’s nothing but the truth, “but sometimes i just think about that first night when we were in that bar. the flirting, the risks, that feeling of not knowing where the night is going to end up. sometimes i think about that a little bit.”

he hums, thinking about that night, and after a few seconds of silence, he speaks up again, “first date nerves,” he nods, “now that i think about it, i miss those.”

you cock your head at him. that’s a weird part of dating to miss, you think, but then he explains further, “like when we went out on our first date and i didn’t know what you were going to wear or if you liked the restaurant i picked or if you’d let me pay for your food.”

“or if i’d take you back to mine,” you joke, raising your eyebrows at him, but really you’re burning inside. your cheeks feel warm just hearing about these feelings he’s never mentioned to you before. 

“yeah, that too,” he laughs, getting back on track, “like, i’m still finding out new things about you all the time, but back then i was discovering who you were every second we were together, and that- that felt like…”

“like finding out soulmates were real?” you ask, because that’s what it felt like to you, that same exact phenomenon he’s describing. he smiles at you warmly, like you’ve just put to words what he felt he could only experience. “i know what you mean,” you smile. 

he leans forward, cupping your cheek with his hand and guiding you towards him. he kisses you softly, placing his other hand on your other cheek and kissing you harder. “should we go on a first date again?” he asks against your lips, barely pulling away to speak. 

you laugh, but when you pull away, you can tell he’s not joking. “what?” you ask, “what do you mean?” you’re already blushing though, already feeling the exact first date nerves he was just talking about. 

“let’s go on a first date,” he repeats himself. “i’ll pick you up at your front door and i’ll choose the restaurant and it’ll be a surprise and i’ll ask you questions that i’d ask you on a first date even if i know the answers to all of them and more at this point.”

you’re smiling so big that your cheeks are sore as you nod fervently at the concept. “okay, yeah,” you agree. 

“right, so we probably shouldn’t kiss or make out or sleep with each other until then to really play into the whole thing?” he teases, and you roll your eyes in response. 

“you’re very funny, kento,” you say, leaning in, brushing your nose against his. he doesn’t even last a second, closing the gap with a small peck and then another and then another and then a much longer one and then he’s putting the book on his nightstand so he can pull you into his lap. 

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

you get a text 5 minutes before 7 that nanami is going to be 3 minutes late picking you up. the text looks a little weird underneath a thread of:

>> nami <3 >> how’s work baby

<< read << if you love me you’ll come and pull the fire alarm to get me out of here early :) :) :)

>> nami <3 >> fine but that’s a class four felony in some cases. will you be providing legal assistance or should i look elsewhere????

<< read << how do u know that?? nerd!!!

>> nami <3 >> google tbh. 

<< read << wow. first i have to stay at work all day alone and sad and now i get to know my bf isn’t sexy and off the dome smart about everything. :(

>> nami <3 >> goodbye.

<< read << :(

>> nami <3 >> i love you

<< read << :)

you bite back the urge to reply with something you’d say to him after knowing him for years. rereading the text and thinking back to your first date, it makes you giggle. actually, it makes you kinda nervous. you text back a polite no worries! take your time! and he replies with a heart and you truly feel like you’re dating for the first time again. you feel honest to god giddy. 

arriving to the restaurant, you are genuinely surprised. you thought after knowing him as long as you have and having gone to as many restaurants with him as you have, you’d go back to somewhere nice you’ve already been. but that isn’t the case. 

he drives you to a pop-up restaurant 20 minutes out of town that you’ve never even heard of, but is the cutest place you’ve ever been, and the entire time he can’t stop sneaking respectful glances at you. he won’t stop telling you how nice you look. he even apologizes for it by the sixth time, pushing your chair in at the restaurant saying, “i know i keep mentioning it, and i’m sorry, but if i said it every time i thought it, it’d be a never ending string.”

if he keeps this up, you’re going to feel like you’re cheating. this seriously feels like a first date, like you’ve been in a relationship for over 5 years and you’re also going on a first date and it’s really messing with your head, but you never want it to stop. 

he stays true to his word, asking you questions he already knows the answers to, but hearing them again, they sound brand new. he doesn’t know if he’s just forgotten some of them or if the testaments of time have weathered your answers just enough to sound unfamiliar, but either way, he’s hanging on to every word. 

by the end of the night, you’ve truly convinced yourself that there are stakes to this date, like if you play your cards wrong, you won’t get to keep seeing this incredible guy. he pays the whole bill, even though you insist on getting your meal or at the very least dessert. he says, “you can try next time too.” and you can’t breathe, you feel so lucky. 

“i’m sorry if this seems forward, but i’d really like to keep seeing you tonight,” you say as the waiter takes away the paid bill, and your heart is thumping so violently against your chest, you swear he can feel it too. 

he shakes his head, “perfectly forward,” he smiles, “your place or mine?” you break character for the first time tonight, giggling at the reality of the question, hiding behind your hand as you do. “what’s so funny?” he asks, but he’s grinning just as big as you are. 

“just thinking about how dreary my life would be if i hadn’t gone on this first date,” you say, and it’s a little too meta, but he’ll let it slide, because he’s a bit flustered at the sentiment. “mine is great,” you answer, placing your hand on his, rubbing the tips of your fingers against his knuckles. 

everything about the rest of the night feels like a first too. it feels like your first kiss in front of your front door. it feels like he’s seeing “your” apartment for the first time. it feels like you’re making out on your couch for the first time. 

it feels like the first time he’s ever been inside of you. 

when he pushes deeper into you, eyes on yours shut tight, you tell yourself that you want to pretend you’re on a first date every single day of your life. you can’t stop whimpering, pleading for him to never stop fucking you ever, please don’t stop, please never fucking stop. 

you break character for the second time when you’re right on the edge. he keeps looking down at you with so much love in his eyes and his hands all over you feel like they know every inch of you, and you can’t stop yourself. you grab his face in your hands, “kento, baby, please, ‘m gonna- ‘m sorry, i- fuck, please. i love you, fuck,” you whine, and he can’t stop himself either, hips stuttering, head falling against your shoulder as he feels you clenching around him as he empties himself inside of you, murmuring how much he loves you right back. 

the way you’ve been feeling all night: blissful and coy, it’s not because it’s a first date, it’s because he’s nanami. it’s because he’s orchestrated the entire night and no matter how “new” everything feels, the underlying foundation of that newness, and the reason everything feels so good, is familiarity and safety. 

“i’m sorry that i-,” you breathe, but he stops you, reaching his hand up to drag his fingertips against your lips, and you laugh, pressing a soft kiss into them. “okay, okay,” you say, and he places his hand back down by his side. “done with the first date stuff, just want to be yours again,” you murmur. 

he scoffs, light, and you can hear his smile in it. he falls over onto his back, pulling you into his chest and kissing the top of your head. “never weren’t,” he mumbles against your hair. “always will be,” he mumbles again, holding you tighter. 

“good,” you say back, settling into his arms like that’s the only thing you know to be true in the entire world. you wouldn’t trade that truth for a million first dates. 

sure, holding your breath at quick witted flirts and stolen glances is nice, but it’s a lot nicer just knowing that you will never be loved better and you will never love harder. 

♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡ no bc the yelling really worked very well idk yell at me more to write a continuation for toji (maybe also gojo bc hes the only one i havent written even an inkling of smut for) idk i'm just thinking of so many scenes idk throw hcs at me in my inbox IDK! toji dating for the first time? got me fucked UP

ᡣ𐭩 ᴛᴀɢs ᡣ𐭩 @igocrazyeveryday @vernasce-blogs @minty86 @abrielletargaryen @pompompompompompompom @mysticrays @lilolpotato @thisisew @pnkoo @optimisticsandwichgladiator @ryumurin @cisseadven @multi-fandom-fanfic @noosayog @anxious-chick @mintleafwrites @(tried to tag some other folks but couldnt!!)

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ 5 more minutes ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : Luke’s girlfriend surprises him in Newark after his last college hockey game

warning(s) : none really. just very fluffy and emotional. also very short bc it was 1 am when i came up w this idea

author’s note : in honor of today being my last day as an ncaa student athlete, i quickly wrote this up. i was feeling very emotional and i needed a way to express how i felt. hence why we now have a very fluffy / emotional fic. some of the comments luke makes are some of my thoughts about how my own season ended yesterday. it’s kinda sad but it had to be done. you’re welcome (i think ?)

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Jack texts her when he has picked up his younger brother from the airport. She begins to pace around the living room of Jack’s apartment that he’s now going to be sharing with Luke.

She has no clue what state Luke is going to be in when he walks through the door. He’s probably going to be so pissed that he spent the last two minutes or so of his college career in the penalty box instead of on the ice or on the bench with his teammates. He’s been so busy traveling that he hasn’t had time to sit and reflect on the season.

That’s the reason that she hopped on a flight to Newark as soon as the clock hit zero against Quinnipac. She just wanted to make sure that he’s okay before he goes and signs his NHL contract in two days and joins Jack on the Devils.

Either he’s going to be really upset and pissed or he’s going to be excited to start the next chapter in his career. She has no idea which version of Luke she’s going to get.

Keys jingle in the door about a half hour after Jack texts her to let her know he has Luke. She stops pacing and stands in the middle of the living room. Her eyes are on the door as Jack pushes it open.

“… not really in the mood for any surprises,” Luke says as he walks through the door. “I’m so tired.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” Jack tells his brother as he shuts the door behind them. Luke drops the big duffel bag that contains his hockey gear on the floor by the door in the foyer area. Then he finally makes his way to the living room with his suitcase.

He freezes mid-step when he sees his girlfriend.

With a small wave and a smile, she says, “Hi, Lukey.”

Luke crosses the room in five strides because of his stupidly long legs. He envelops her in a hug and buries his face in her neck. She wraps her arms around his torso and they stand like that for what feels like an eternity.

She doesn’t mind. If it means that Luke’s okay then she’ll stand like this forever.

She presses soft kisses into his shoulder and whispers to him, “I’m so proud of you, Luke. So incredibly proud of you. I know that’s not how you wanted the season to end but you did everything you could, and for that I am so, so proud of you.”

A quiet sob wracks Luke’s body as he pulls back from the hug. She sees tears in his eyes and frowns. A couple roll down his cheek and she reaches up to wipe them away. Jack silently sneaks out of the apartment. He thinks he’s slick but she saw him leave behind Luke.

“I hated that I wasnt out there those last two minutes,” he tells her, voice shaky. “Maybe I could’ve done something that pushed the game into overtime or won it for us. Instead I was in the penalty box while my team had to fight even harder to get goals because they were down a man.”

“I know, baby,” she softly replies. “I wish I could’ve given you guys five more minutes. You all fought so hard. So fucking hard. I’m so sorry that’s how your season ended.”

More tears roll down Luke’s cheeks and she continues to wipe them away.

“I feel like I let them down,” he whispers. “I could’ve fought harder for them. For this season. I let them down when they needed me most and now I’m abandoning them.” His words break her heart.

She shakes her head and cups his jaw. “You didn’t let anyone down,” she tells him. “You did what you could in the sixty minutes you had. They know that and they will always remember how hard you fought for them. You’re so important to everyone on that team and you played such an important role in getting as far as you did as a team. They’re just as proud of you as I am because you are about to start an amazing new chapter in your hockey career. You aren’t abandoning them, Luke. They want you to move forward in your career. They understand that you’re ready and that this is what you want.”

Luke nods and wraps his hands around her wrists. She continues to look up at her boyfriend.

She’ll never understand how he feels because she isn’t an athlete. All she can do now is try to help him realize that he isn’t the worst teammate that he thinks he is at the moment. She doesn’t want him to have that mindset as he transitions from college to the NHL.

Losing is tough in any sport. She knows that much and she is going to make sure that Luke understands that it is okay to feel this way but that he also has to get ready to move forward.

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a moment of comfortable silence. “Sorry I’m such a mess. I didn’t think it would affect me this much.”

“It just shows how much you love every team that you’re on,” she replies. “You dedicate so much time to hockey because you love it. You’re allowed to feel this way and feel it for a little bit. You do have a contract to sign in a few days so I’m giving you tonight to get out everything you feel about the Michigan season ended. Tomorrow, it’s time to get excited. I’m here to help you get excited.”

A smile finally cracks through the frown that’s been plastered on Luke’s face since he saw her. She dries his cheeks one more time before she pulls him back into a hug.

Luke presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. “I love you,” he says into her hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up. Yes you do,” she retorts. “I love you too. Let’s go get you unpacked then we can take a nap because I heard you tell Jack how tired you are.”

When she pulls away from the hug and starts to walk to his suitcase, Luke grabs her hand and pulls her back to him. She looks up at him for a quick second before his lips are on hers. The kiss surprises her because of how emotional he is, but sometimes a kiss is all it takes to feel better.

She happily smiles into the kiss and runs her fingers through his curls as she returns it. It’s one of his favorite things she does so many he’ll start to feel better a little faster. Luke loves feelings her fingers in his curls. It’s the reason he doesn’t try to tame them.

The front door opens again and a voice says, “Okay, we are establishing some rules. Rule one, the door stays open three inches when your girlfriend is over. I don’t need any babies crying in my apartment at three in the morning right now.”

They both pull back and she looks behind Luke at Jack, who has a disgusted look on his face. She smiles but Luke’s cheeks turn a tomato red. She laughs and shakes her head.

“Rule two,” Jack continues. “No making out anywhere I can see you. That means the-”

“Jack!” Luke snaps. “I get it. We get it. Also, I’m not going to be leaving my door open three inches. If I want to have sex with my girlfriend then I’m going to. It’s my room and we split the rent now so I’ll do what I want.”

“None of that premarital kissing stuff where I can see or hear it,” Jack tells his brother. “I don’t need that in my life.”

She laughs and takes the opportunity to grab Luke’s bag and suitcase. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We won’t traumatize you. Again.”

Both Luke and his girlfriend laugh as they make their way to Luke’s new room, leaving a disgusted and definitely traumatized Jack Hughes in the living room.

༺═──────────────═༻

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[seraphont]

All jokes aside..what DOES Tessa see in J? She kinda..rude, mean, bossy, snarky, traitorous .. Tessa is the complete opposite!! #youdeservebettergurl /J

Sjdkl I see where you’re coming from anon, I wrote a couple of paragraphs below, please bear with my thought process, there’s a TLDR way at the bottom. This is how I interpret J’s character (if shes nuanced lol) with the little info we’re given:

in the series we see J at her worst, similar to how we see V, kinda sucking as well at the beginning of the series. The difference is V actually gets an emotional story arc and screen time LOL (and N- the person she cares for- is actually still alive and well).

We get glimpses of their past selves at the manor, and though Cyn states that their personalities were left unaltered, the trauma of their past certainly changed them. We see this drastic difference especially in V. we don’t get many moments w J (dead for over half of the series lol), but she also retained her memories, and I’d find it hard to believe she wasn’t effected similarly to V.

The only instances of ‘care’ we see in the series by J, is when Tessa rubs at her sore wrists from being manacled at the manor, when J was asking V to join her side Ep 8, and when she stated she got tricked by the solver - where it’s implied that J’s been killed many times by the solver, believing she has no other choice.

going back on another post I made, I think a tell for her character is the line “I didn’t need either of you anyway.” When V rejects her offer after J asked V to join her. This felt like an extreme cope and a tell on how she deals w things emotionally. I do think she wanted both N and V to be with her, but she’s got her walls up and is a stuck up asshole.

unfortunately LOL, much of this lays in assumptions based off of what little canon provided, we see J and Tessa were stuck at the hip at the manor, which to me at least implies they’re very good friends/close. the ripping royals talk, that J is a confidant/someone she could rely on and trust, even though she’s rather blunt. The swapping of weapons, no words needed -a tell that they know each others preferences well, another signal to closeness. the ‘stick in the mud’/cheerful friendship dynamic is also just kinda my favorite lol.

The way I interrupt J at the manor is a very toned down version of her angry self that we see on C9. Aloof, tactless, loyal (she turned on the “company” when breaking Tessa’s manacles), jealous lol, but inevitably there for her friend.

TLDR: it’s implied she was good friends with Tessa at the manor, and yes she’s an asshole lol, but never towards Tessa, the only character shes ever outwardly shown care towards. Tessa probably saw the J who didn’t have her walls up, a J, who though aloof- was her confidant, someone who took her weirdness in stride, and a constant that stuck by her side during her worst times at the manor. A great formula for a strong friendship, and I’m a sucker for friends to lovers lol.

At least that’s how I interpret it c:

[gorejo]

▸ BROKEN PIECES. — GETO SUGURU.

summary: spiraling in his intrusive thoughts, the chaos in his mind eating away at his sanity, you're there to catch him — to prove to him that he's worth the bet of saving... because he's always done that for you.

content: reverse comfort. very light angst. reader is mentioned as geto’s girlfriend. in a world where someone is there for suguru before he spirals )) : minimal cursing. emotional geto. this was more so for me when i wrote this, but sharing is caring ~

They say soul ties link two people. A bond beyond a dimension of reality, connecting them as one in emotion and spirit. 

Maybe that’s why the phrase goes, soul ties are dangerous, so be careful who you give your soul. 

It wasn’t long before you noticed these subtle changes. He swears he’s been mindful to not reveal this side to you.

But again, soul ties are dangerous — there are no secrets when you fall into the abyss together. At least one of you would be there to carry the other. 

“You’re doing it again,” you softly muttered, putting down his morning coffee, the cup lightly clinking against the glass table, the sound radiating loudly in the quiet room. you gently run your finger against his forearm, hearing his slight hum of a thank you as you quietly take a seat next to him on the couch.  

Confused as he looked up, about to answer knowingly, only to quickly replace his stoic face with a facade, “Doing what?” he chuckled — the one where his eyes would become like crescent moons, yet the shallow depth of his smile gave it away.

“You’re in your head right now, no?” You questioned, doing your best to look into his eyes — to connect, to be there with him, to let him know… that you were there to carry him through, to never let him fall — and even if he did, you’ll still be there to catch him.

Pushing his bangs out of his forehead, he spread out his legs to give a little stretch. “No, just spacing out baby,” he let out as he reached over to bring you closer to his side, “nothing to worry about, sweetheart,” he muttered, as he nuzzled his nose to your cheek.

“it's probably because I wasn’t able to sleep too well through your snoring last night,” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

In truth, you would find Suguru oftentimes awake during the quiet hours of the day, when no one else was awake but him, lonesomely spacing out as he looked outside the window, his dark eyes empty and lost as if he searched for a greater purpose, or as if he was searching for a saving grace through it all.

You’ve noticed Suguru spending a bit longer in the shower, the bags under his eyes getting a bit darker. The once shine of his hair was now replaced with dull, tangled strands, and the gentle smile on his face — the one that made you fall in love with him — was muted now with a tired look as he forced himself to be who he wasn’t anymore. 

And you knew, you can feel it without him having to explain, he hated it — he hated himself for it. 

“I won’t push you, Suguru,” with tears starting to brim at your eyelids, doing your best to stay strong because it wasn’t your moment, “I just want you to know that I’ll always love you.” 

And reaching over, as you searched for his eyes, asking for permission to touch him, only to lean in to give him a small kiss to his jaw when you see — no, feel — his body starting to relax, the tightness of his shoulder unraveling as you felt the pent up exhaustion in his mind starting to spill, “but let me in sometimes, let me carry you for a bit.”

Surely, soul ties are dangerous because everything hurt and it hurt you more to know that he carried this all alone till now. 

“You can’t say that,” Geto abruptly stated with gritted teeth, refusing to look at your pleading gaze, “don’t say shit like that so easily, not when I’m like this.”

“And what’s wrong with who you are now?” You warmly confronted, your heart softening up to your boyfriend's vulnerability, “You’ve done it for me, no?”

That’s right, Geto’s been there — he’s been through it all with you and for you. 

He’s been there in every season, like a silent pillar that you rested on whenever you needed love and security, and without speaking a word, without needing anything in return, he simply loved you through it all.

He was your saving grace.

“It’s not the same… I- I can do that for you,” His gaze slowly turned to you, lips trembling as his tired eyes were now honest and transparent, only for him to quickly avoid your gaze again like a guilty criminal, “You’re… you’re different from me.”

“How so?” You questioned, slowly prying him open as you softly pulled his chin to face you again, “You don’t trust me?”

Shaking his head in disagreement, “I do…” taking a moment to compose himself, “You’re worth saving,” Geto quietly confessed.

“Bingo,” you cheekily smiled, lightly pinching his sunken cheeks, “I am.”

“So just leave it alone —”

Interjecting him, lightly pushing the furrow of his brows with your finger, “You showed me that I am,” you admitted while combing through his hair while your other hand tried to loosen his tight grip. 

“You showed it when you held me at my lowest, you proved it to me when I least believed that I was deserving of love. You countered all odds and healed me,” intertwining your fingers with his as the other cupped his face, “you were the one that carried me through my worst, taking my pain as yours.”

You felt him melt into your palm, the heat of your hand giving him a sense of security that he tried to cling onto for his last measure, “So let me show you that you’re worth it for me,” you confessed.

And before you saw the drop of his tear threatening to fall, Geto led you up onto his thighs, his head leaning back against the sofa, his neck resting against the edge with his dark locks falling as he closed his eyes with furrowed brows, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I’m fucking scared,” his grip on your thighs tightening as he stuffed down a sob.

Leaning your head against his chest to hear his beating heart, “What are you so scared of, Suguru? Tell me, what can scare the Geto Suguru, my strong, dependable, and pretty boyfriend?” 

"Seeing your ugly cries that make me love you more," Suguru half-heartedly joked.

"what else?" you hummed.

"And when your snot gets all over my clothes," Geto continued with his chest vibrating with his soft voice.

"mhm, but you said I was still pretty though," you pouted.

"You are... you're so so pretty," confessing as his voice started to shake, "but I- I'm —"

Instead of continuing, Geto chose to stay quiet. And though his lips were unmoving, the rhythm of his breathing juxtaposed his silence as you felt his body lightly shake, but you continued.

"tell me, love. what are you feeling in here?" you whispered, pointing to his heart as you lightly kissed his chest, soaking in his unraveling.

Lowly groaning with his forearm around his eyes, the vein on the thickness of his neck highlighted as his Adam’s apple bobbed while swallowing his spit, “I’m so terrified that I’ve lost myself too much…” his soft lashes slightly coated with tears while his nose mildly flared, “too much to the point that I’ll lose you too,” Geto whispered — as if he was afraid it would become true if he said it any louder.

And with his confession, you moved his arm from his face, and seeing his eyes coated with tears, your boyfriend never looked more handsome. In his vulnerability, in his raw emotional state, a grace he’s never shown to many, you couldn’t help but fall in love with him even more.

“Even if you’re spacing out, even if you think it’s nothing,” caressing his face as you gently kissed his tired eyes, feeling a droplet and another of his tears fall against your cheeks, finding the courage to uplift his burdens even for a moment as you find his arms tightening around your waist, soaking in the comfort of your embrace.

“even if think you’ve lost yourself, I’ll always pick up all your broken pieces and piece them back together…” you promised.

And uncaring of the tears that started to spill from your heavy lids, vision blurry as you felt your pulse increasing, you let them fall to pool at his black cotton shirt.

“... I want to know what’s going on in this pretty head, Suguru” you confessed as you placed a tender kiss on his forehead, pushing away the strands of his hair as you gently combed through the tangles, “the messy, the dirty, the naughty, the whatnots that keep you up at night. my boyfriend’s too pretty to be hurting like this, you know? I won’t allow it.” 

Using humor as his comfort, loosening up the tension as he welcomed you into his mess, “damn, I can't have you ugly cry now and ruin my shirt,” he chuckled, wiping your tears with a kiss.

And matching his forehead with yours, his voice softly trembling while his hands carefully moved to cup your face, his thumb grazing your lips as he reached in closer to seal his mildly chapped lips with yours — a connection pure and simple that would bring light into his darkened reality. His saving grace slowly chipping off the chains of his dysphoria, “I love you so fucking much, angel… ”

“... save me,” Geto confessed.

And in your arms, Geto Suguru breaks, finally letting down his shackles in the reign of your mercy.

[hessolivagant]

I want to talk about my interpretation of mikes smile after wills speech. Obviously it's a super sweet smile but when you really look into it given the context it's a bit suspicious no?

IS IT JUST ME OR IS IT OFF? I know a lot of us bylers can agree that Mike is NOT stupid, he's very smart. Therefore a lot of us think he knows something, it could be a few things.

1, he knows it wasn't commissioned by El, el literally stated that she has NO idea what will was painting in the first ep on the letter Mike was reading so for will to say she commissioned probably confused him

2, the same thing I wrote^ but he also knows there's a romantic meaning behind it. A lot of people say in the "Mike speech" scene where will encourages him to say I love you to El which throws him off from what will told him in the van. If that makes sense. Mike gives him this sad look, can't really describe the emotional but it could be many things.

Either way, Mike either knows, has a HUNCH, or he's just oblivious(doubt it)

Because that smile when will finishes his speech, Mike gives him a smile that almost looks idk forced? I don't know the word but you can tell that Mike may be feeling a bit confused and conflicted because his smile immediately drops when he looks away. It just feels iffy to me.

And then Mike looking at will, noticing him crying, immediately looking away. I do want to know why he didn't say anything but he probably wanted to give will space. Mike knows that will doesn't like that kind of treatment, hence s2.

[physalian]

When To Keep Your Writing Stiff (pt 7)

Part 6

Part 1

Gonna shoutout a specific fanfic, “Salvage” (ATLA) for writing that is even leaner than mine is, and mine has zero fat whatsoever. This was really good. I particularly like how some scenes were only 2 or 3 lines long as an example of what I’m going for here.

When I say “stiff” in the following examples I’m specifically talking about a lot of the same syntax, few similes and metaphors, few ‘said’ synonyms, very little, well, “life” in the prose. And this can be good in a few situations.

1. Your narrator is in shock

Shock doesn’t all look the same, but the kind of shock I mean is the one where the person is really quiet and un-emotive, they’re probably not speaking or reacting much to whatever catastrophe just happened and probably not responding to their name or anything spoken to them. Their body is pretty much going “uhhhhhhhhh factory reset!” when whatever it is, is too much to process.

A asks them a question. Once. Twice. B stares ahead. There’s a brown stain on the wall that looks like a thumb.

So if they’re narrating, they’re probably going to be giving the absolute bare minimum, need-to-know information and won’t be thinking about the best adjectives and adverbs. Especially if you normally write with fluffier prose, a jarring shift like this can really help sell the shock and dissociating of the character, something so traumatizing that it effects how the story is told.

2. Your narrator is depressed

Somewhere between New Moon’s 4 pages of just Months to show Bella did absolutely nothing in a depression rot and normal prose (though it was effective, particularly in the movie when they could draw out the words on the screen for longer and did the whole spin-around-her-depression-chair montage).

January came. It rained a lot.

They’ll probably either narrate very thinly, or listlessly. They might focus on a random detail and start going on a long ramble about that one detail that isn’t at all important, but it’s either all they can think about or all that can move them to feel anything in this moment, like:

On the bedside table, that coffee mug still sat there in a thin sheet of dust. What had been liquid now long since dry and gluey. It still sits there, collecting cat fur.

This might be the best place for sentences that all sound and flow exactly the same, but use it sparingly.

3. Your narrator is having a panic attack or trapped in a traumatic situation

Different from shock in that while they are physically capable of moving and interacting, they can’t let themselves describe what they’re seeing and feeling in grand detail. Maybe they’re moving through the horrific aftermath of a battle and all they can describe is the mud under their feet and how it squelches. Or they simply say that “there’s bodies everywhere” because looking too long or too hard at who those bodies belonged to is too much.

4. You’re writing something that has incredibly fast pacing

This post was inspired by a fic I just wrote that spanned about 5 months in about 18k words. Narrative was skipping days ahead between paragraphs at some point as my character was processing the end of an abusive relationship. It sped up and slowed down where necessary, but compared to its sequel that I also just finished (22k words across 7 days), I’d covered a whole month in about 2 sentences in the first one.

See nearly any part of Salvage (or my fics if you feel like it)

What happened in that month didn’t matter, only what was before and what’s different now and how this character realizes how their life is slowly changing, some things they never noticed that are suddenly right in their face or things that quietly slipped away.

—

TLDR; sometimes the lack of emotion and sensory details and frenetic, dynamic syntax is the point, that can sell the reader on the narrator’s mental state far better than picking the juiciest adverbs. If it’s so impactful to them that the physical telling of the story is changed, you’ve done your job.

[fatuismooches]

Hello

I just saw your post with the fragile SO and honestly I loved it sooo much ❤️

Now I wanted to request kinda of a follow up. Like what if before you died you wrote them a letter, saying how much you love them and how they made your last days on earth so memorable and stuff like that. And they found it, like maybe a month or so after your death. How would they all react? (I'm specially curious of Capitano because you said you thought he would think that he killed you 😭)

I really love your writing and I plan to make more request in the future 👋

-🦎

♡𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. But it seems that even such strong beings falter in the face of their lover's death, especially after they find a letter you left behind. Can be read as a part 2 to this.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: Hop on the angst train, everyone. This is the first completely angsty thing I've written, and probably one of my favorites + longest pieces. I hope you enjoy this sadness, anon...!

Pierro:

Pierro carried on. He went about his day, filing paperwork, assigning duties to new recruits. What could he do? There was no time to mourn. The entire Fatui depended on his guidance and orders. He couldn’t just drop everything to fully devote himself to grieving you. But everyone knew - in any spare moment he had, he was thinking about you. Thinking about how he used to be able to go home to you waiting for him. Thinking about the walks he took with you that were heartwarming despite the body-chilling temperature. Thinking about when you were alive.

It was another day when one of your maids came to him with a piece of paper. Of course, she was terrified at being in the presence of the Harbinger, but she presented a folded piece of paper to him, stating that she had found it while cleaning your room. Pierro hadn’t been in there for a while. He was consciously trying his best to avoid it, choosing to pick up work instead. He nodded and the maid quickly scurried out of the room. It was most likely a final memento from you. He should honor that, he thought as he took off his mask.

Dear Pierro,

Hello there, my love. I hope your day wasn’t too tiring. I know how you’re always swamped with your Fatui business and such. You’re the head Harbinger, you know! You should definitely abuse your power to get some more days off. You didn’t hear that from me though, not like I wanna keep you to myself or anything. Totally not because I’m dying to spend some more time with you before I quite literally die. 

You know, sometimes I wish I was a Fatui soldier just so that I could admire you from afar some more. Those recruits are damn lucky, getting to see you more than I do. I don’t mean to complain though. I’m still tremendously grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying the best moments of my life with you. Yeah, even when I made jokes you still had that stoic look on your face but it was still hilarious. I loved when you would wrap me in your coat and tell me stories about Khaenri’ah. Even when you weren’t here, I loved when these random recruits would be scurrying to my room every so often to deliver your handwritten notes. 

Truly, there’s no life I’d rather live than this one… minus the illness part though. I am sorry to make you shoulder another death, my dear, but I love you greatly. I will always be with you.

Quietly, Pierro put the paper down and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever since the fall of his nation, his heart had long gone numb. He had tried to ignore the prickling of his heart after your death, but your letter was really rubbing it on. When was the last time mere words could stir up such emotion in him? He didn’t know. But he promised you, this would not be your final resting place. Pierro knew, after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s promise, he would see you again.

Capitano:

Capitano wasn’t very photogenic. After all, all you saw was a helmet shrouding his face in darkness along with his pitch-black armor and clothes. But you had insisted on taking a variety of pictures with him, claiming that it kept you happy. It wasn’t until later on when he stumbled across a scrapbook, with pages covered in photos of the two of you together, that he understood why. Since then, he let you do as you please. The doctors said it was good for you to keep occupied by doing things you liked. And well, it was rather cute, with all the decorations and fancy tape you added. Capitano often found himself looking at it to see what you added when you weren’t around.

But ever since your death, he hadn’t looked at it since. If he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to control the emotions boiling up inside of him. If he looked at your smiling face again, the pain and regret would be too much to bear. But as the days passed by and he continued to think about you, he couldn’t help but flip open the scrapbook, revisiting the memories he made with you so long ago. He flipped until he found a envelope in the middle, causing him to perk up. It had been sealed perfectly, even stamped with one of his seals. Now, Capitano didn’t want to invade your privacy, but what was inside called to him too much, and he very carefully unsealed it with a knife. Inside was a piece of parchment, similar to the ones he used to send you letters.

My knight,

I’m writing this after you just left for an expedition. You’ve just fed me breakfast (a/d fa//ed, but it’s f/ne b/ca/se it w/s c/te.) (The ending part of the sentence has been erased, but it’s still a bit readable.) We took an early bath together, and you helped me choose a nice outfit for today. You dutifully assisted me with my medicine and tucked me back into bed for some rest. Lastly, you’ve just tenderly kissed me with all the love in the world, my favorite part of course.

It’s too bad that I won’t be able to receive any more of your kisses soon. I think the sickness is really catching up to me, haha. (There are some doodles of the two of you randomly drawn in the middle of the paper, with lots of hearts and stars and rainbows. Maybe you stopped because you didn’t know how to continue.) To be honest, I’ve asked the doctors not to tell you, and somehow, they’ve listened to me. I just don’t want you to worry about me. Somehow, for someone as menacingly looking as you, you worry a lot more than I thought (no offense, though.)

I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything, my love. You genuinely made my life so, so much better. Even towards the end, I can only feel happiness that I was able to share some of my life with someone so incredible. You aren’t a monster. You’re the man I love dearly, the one who many people look up to all the time. You did everything and more, which really warms my heart.

I’m saying this because I know how you are and I need to knock some sense into you before you start getting any crazy ideas. Please don’t beat yourself up. If I could choose my destiny, I’d rather choose to be sick and be with you rather than being healthy. I’d choose you again and again, over and over, my dear. I love you, truly.

Carefully folding the letter, he tucked it into the envelope again and resealed it. He snugly placed it back into the scrapbook and closed it, placing it back into the drawer where he usually kept it. Capitano was used to the grief and destruction that war brought. But he wasn’t used to it when love brought these feelings upon him. His heart still hurt - terribly so - but… your letter seems to have brought him some peace. You would forever be in his heart.

Columbina:

It had been a while since your death. By now, everyone had become accustomed to hearing her songs every day. It was a constant reminder of your passing. Oftentimes,  Columbina had begun to stay in your room longer than her own. You were gone, but something about your space soothed her soul a bit from all the grief she was going through. And she also liked to go through your stuff and remember different things about you.

There was a box that contained a compilation of the many songs and poems she gifted you, along with some that you created yourself with her help. Sometimes, she liked to go through the box and think about you, but she never had the time to inspect every piece. Until now, when she noticed that there was an unfamiliar piece of paper that she didn’t recognize. Columbina picked it up and began to read.

My lovely melody,

Lately, I’ve begun to sing more. I think you’ve inspired me. I hope you don’t mind me stealing that one song you like to hum the most. The only problem is that I don’t have enough stamina to sing for that long, and I think my voice is kind of off-key. But I promise I’m working on it! I’m not going to tell you yet because I want to surprise you with something nice, as a thank you for taking care of me for so long.

Actually, there’s another problem, and it’s that… (it seems that you wrote a lot of words here and then scratched them out; perhaps you were unsure how to word it) Well, I guess I don’t really know if I’ll live long enough to perform for you. It’s been kind of tough lately. But I’m going to persevere for you. Your poems have been helping a lot. We should make a book of them one day. And um, in the case that I don’t make it, I would like you to know how happy you made me.

I always got so giddy when I heard you humming down the hallway. Nothing felt better than when you would croon to me and massage my scalp and play with my hair. You are so comforting and sweet, and just - lots of things that would be too much to write. I always feel eternally fortunate that I was able to have a lover as amazing as you. You really did change my life. I love you very much, Columbina. Please don’t forget me.

Columbina’s usual smile had turned into a downward curve. Oh, how she wished she could hear you sing. Your usual voice and laugh had already been angelic to her, she knew your songs would be beautiful too. But you were no longer here. She would have really loved to hear your song. You would have been the best duet partner. But perhaps, you could hear her songs from the other world as she laid on your coffin once again.

Dottore:

Dottore hadn’t entered your room since your death. He was far too busy with his research and experimentation with resurrection. Mourn you? No, no, you weren’t going to be dead for long, after he finds the answer. You would be back in his arms soon enough. Both of you would be fine. That was, until no matter how hard he researched, he always seemed to hit a dead end. It was frustrating. He couldn’t believe it, but he was at the point where he willingly needed a couple of minutes to rest. Dottore headed to his room, but as he placed his hand on the doorknob, something stopped him and he looked over to the room next to his, yours. He silently walked over and opened your room, having not been in it for a while. The only reason you didn’t share a room was that his was very… bland, boring, not very comfortable, and not spacious enough for the medical equipment.

It was the same as he had left it, not bothering to change anything. You liked to decorate it, and he let you. Framed photos of the two of you were on the dresser, lights hung up around the room. It seemed to make you happy. But there was something he had not noticed before - a slip of paper sticking out from under the pillow. Dottore walked over and took off his mask - something he unconsciously tended to do when it was just the two of you - and opened the folded paper.

To Zandik,

I remember when you first took interest in me, looking at me up and down with your mask on, a wide smirk on your face. I knew my parents said they hired someone intelligent to cure me, but I sure didn’t expect it to be the second Harbinger. I think you already know this, but when I saw you, I was kinda scared for my life. And I was for a while, especially when you made me drink the most hellish concoctions and injected strange things into me. But long story short, I still fell in love with you somehow. Even though you were probably trying so hard just because you wanted to solve the mystery of my illness, I couldn’t help but think you were quite handsome when you focused on something so intensely. Your pointy teeth were the cutest. (The previous sentence has been erased but Dottore could still make it out. You were an idiot, he thinks.)

I don’t mean to insult your intelligence or skill… but I don’t think I’m going to make it, Dottore. I know you’ve been trying really, really hard (I was there the whole time, after all) to help cure me, but I think you know better than me about my condition. So yeah. I guess this is my goodbye… my parting letter.

I know you don’t care about anyone or anything really, but I hope you accept it when I say I genuinely enjoyed our time together. Yea, you were hella terrifying and a lot of scary stories drifted about you, but there was a lot of maniacal laughter and you rambling on about things I had no clue about, but I would always happily listen to you, Zandik. I would write more, but I don’t think you’re one for sappy words and stuff like that. So I’ll leave end it here. I love you very much.

His mouth was a straight thin line at the end of your letter. Dottore put his mask back on and tucked your letter into his coat. For once, he couldn’t blame someone for insulting his intelligence. He did fail, after all. But Dottore was no stranger to failure. Experimentation was a series of trials and errors, failures and successes. He swore to himself that you would not be a failure. Perhaps his journey to Sumeru, the land of wisdom, would grant him some more insight for your resurrection.

Pulcinella:

It was just after your funeral. Surprisingly, all the Harbingers had gathered too. It seemed like they had grown somewhat fond of you after Pulcinella introduced you to them, at least enough to attend your funeral. Pulcinella was grateful. He had spoken a few words in memory of you. He couldn’t keep everyone for long. They had other matters to attend to. But in his heart, he had a lot of dear words for you. 

Pulcinella sat down at his desk, deciding to do some paperwork to distract his mind. He pulled out the drawer to retrieve some items but he noticed a piece of paper stuffed to the back of it. He certainly had not put that there. He reached for it and opened it to read the contents.

Hey Papanella,

Do you like that nickname I came up with? I haven’t said it to you yet because I’m not sure how you’ll react. But I think it’s pretty cute. I haven’t said this out loud yet either but… um, I guess you’re like my dad to me. My own parents never cared much for me after my illness proved to be too much work, but you always treated me so kindly. So yeah. Thanks for being a father figure to me. Archons, this is kind of embarrassing.

I’m admitting this because I don’t know how much longer I have. I know you’re always encouraging me to keep living on, and I really do appreciate it. I’m sincerely trying my best, but I think my sickness has been getting worse. Ah, and thanks for introducing me to the Harbingers. They’re pretty scary but they’re kind of cool when you get to know them. Some of them are cute too. Please don’t tell them I said that. But really, for the longest time, I thought my life would amount to nothing, and that no one would remember me. But you proved me wrong. I truly enjoyed spending the last of my days doing old people stuff with you (just kidding of course!)

I’m going to ask you to tell me lots of more stories when I see you again. They really make my day. I like the ones about you in your youth the best. They’re the funniest. Anyway, I love you, gramps. Don’t miss me too much.

Pulcinella was old. He had seen things be built and broken down, people come and go. But he always hated it the most when he had to see youngsters go before he did. Especially innocent ones who had done nothing wrong. He just prayed, that whichever world you were in now, treated you better than this one did.

Scaramouche:

Ever since your death, the soldiers had been on the receiving end of Scaramouche’s insults even more. No longer were you here to hastily save them from his berating, much to their dismay.  They actually appreciated you for stopping Scaramouche from giving them another verbal (and sometimes even physical) beating. But now if he wasn’t yelling at someone, he was deathly silent, which was why even scarier than his words. Everyone knew they were forbidden from speaking about you in his presence.

When Scaramouche had to visit Inazuma for whatever reason, he always found himself walking towards your house. Once he had came across the Tenryou Commission moving your items out of your house, due to no one living there anymore and the want for someone else to buy it. Needless to say, he swiftly dealt with them and sent them on their way with rage. They had tried a few more times and he did not hold back, until later they stopped coming, apparently after the head shrine maiden gave an order on the behalf of the Shogun to leave the residence alone. Hmph.

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming here, the only thing that’s different is the new collection of dust on the dresser. But the want to see you again keeps calling him, only to leave Scaramouche sorely disappointed. He thinks he knows every nook and cranny of your house, that is until he walks on a floorboard that caves in and nearly makes him fall. He’s about to lose his temper until he sees a piece of paper hidden under the floor. The words die in his throat as he picks it up to inspect.

To my beloved Kunikuzushi,

As I write this, you’re probably yelling at some unfortunate Fatui soul and they’re all trembling in their boots. Haha, I wish I was there to see that. You should be nicer, you know. But it is kinda funny to see you mad. I hope you come back soon… it’s getting too quiet around here without your quips and remarks.

But I know as you read this, I’m no longer alive. Kuni, I… (There are wrinkled spots around this area, presumably from your tears.)

I love you, and I don’t want rage and hatred to consume you again. I’m sorry to make your heart bear such pain again. It may be fruitless to say this, but please don’t blame yourself… it was out of our control. Please know I enjoyed every moment with you, whether you were cursing at some guy who bumped into me, even when you teased me relentlessly, or silently crying in my arms about your fate. But my favorite part was your soft smiles which grew more frequent. You are loved very much by me too. I want to see you smile more, many more times before I- (The rest of the sentence was scribbled over with a pen, making it unreadable.)

I wish I didn’t have to depart so soon… I wish I was born someone else, someone more strong and healthier… if I was, would our story be different, Kuni? Perhaps we’ll meet again one day… hopefully, sooner rather than later, and maybe I won’t be the same as I am now, but…

Will you wait for me, Kunikuzushi?

Scaramouche hated when he cried. He felt weak, stupid, and disgusting, especially when you were there. And somehow, he couldn’t help but feel worse than that when he finished reading your letter. He was never favored by the Gods, having been betrayed by one already. It seemed as though he was always fated to be betrayed by people he cared about. But he knew deep down that you didn’t betray him, he did instead by not being able to protect and save you. In an effort to bury his despair, anger, and grief, he would wipe himself clean of foolish human emotions, ready to ascend to godhood with his creator’s Gnosis…

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino’s days had been exactly the same ever since your death. They were the same as before she had met you too. Bland. Boring. Dull. It was after your passing that she truly realized how much your presence had added some thrill and color into her life. Now they were empty. But she was used to that. She had felt that way for a long time.

Arlecchino didn’t do much in her room besides sleep. Her room wasn’t anything special, just the standard and rich master bedroom. That was, until you took it upon yourself to decorate it. She hadn’t bothered to change it despite the style being very much different from hers. Today she had come in briefly to retrieve some documents under her bed. But, there was a random piece of paper there, collected dust on top of it, most likely from being placed there a long time ago. Arlecchino opened the folded paper and was greeted with your handwriting.

To my sunshine,

I bet you’re wondering why the hell I chose “sunshine” of all names. Even I can admit that you are nothing like sunshine. But I wanted to spice things up a bit, and to be honest, you bring a lot of sunshine into my heart and dreary little life, despite your stone-cold face. So yeah! I don’t think I can call you that to your face though. It’d be too scary.

I didn’t tell you, but I’ve had some people ask me why I chose to stay with you despite my health being what it is. My answer is always very easy - I love you, Arlecchino. Plain and simple. They don’t know how you are with me (which I’m kinda glad for… I want to keep this side of you to myself; yes, I know I’m greedy.) The way your lips quirk up for a split second then always turn downwards because you don’t want anyone to see. The way your eyes soften for a bit when I tell a corny joke. Or when I do anything actually. Your facial expressions are pretty cute.

Ahem, moving on from that, I guess you can say that I’m not too scared to say these things because I might be leaving you soon. Not of my free will, of course. Rather, it seems like the time my illness is allowing me to live is limited. Hopefully, you don’t notice anything off about me. I don’t think I could explain all of this in person… 

But I am really thankful to you for sticking by my side for so long. Even though you don’t tell me, I know sometimes you lament about your lack of ability to be verbally and affectionately comforting. But I hope you know that I don’t really care about that. You are more than enough for me. You’ve done a lot more than you think. I’m forever appreciative, my dear.

Arlecchino was left speechless, the usual bite in her throat died down. As someone who had few kind words to say to others, having such sweetness directed at her was not something she was used to. But of course, a part of her wasn’t surprised, because the only person who’d utter such things was you. It pained her, and even the children who cried after your death, greatly. But whenever she needed a reminder of you, she would uncharacteristically gently trace her fingertips over the words of your letter.

La Signora:

Everyone knew to stay out of La Signora’s way after your death. She was cruel before, but your passing seemed to reignite all the flames of anguish and hatred she harbored deep inside her broken heart. Once again, her walls had been put up to be unbreakable.

Rosalyne had gifted you a lot of makeup and accessories. She liked to experiment on you and liked it when you tried it yourself too. You had kept everything in a nice big box so nothing would get lost. One day she felt drawn to it again. She knew she was missing you dearly again, and although opening it would just cause her heartache, she couldn’t help but pry it open to see how you kept it. But on top was a hastily folded letter, stained a bit by the surrounding makeup, tucked into a small compartment. She flipped it open and began to scan the contents.

My dearest Rosalyne,

Hello there, pretty lady. You know, that’s the first thing I thought when I saw you. Tall pretty lady. Did you know that? Now you do. Anyway, I was wondering - how many of your flame moths can you create at a time?? Can you make them form a heart or something? 

Haha, I’m sorry for beating around the bush. The truth is I don’t know how much longer I have left. No matter how much warmth your moths provide me, for some reason, I always feel the chill of death creeping up my spine…

I don’t mean to be your second heartbreak. I’m really sorry… you deserve so much better than that. But for what it’s worth, you made my life a lot better than it was before. I hadn’t had much confidence in myself because of my illness for a long time. But you, Rosalyne… you made me feel like an actual person, as strange as that sounds. I feel like, when I’m with you, you make me feel so loved and special. I’m far from it but I actually feel like royalty. And royalty is really a life worth living. I don’t even know how you did it, but thank you. My life is so, so much happier thanks to you.

Hopefully, I make it a lot longer after I’m writing this letter. Maybe the Gods could finally take pity on me and give me some kind of blessing so I can stay with you longer. But if anything happens, I really, truly love you, Rosalyne. (The end of the letter has an origami moth colored in and taped to it.)

Signora’s hand trembled as she finished your letter. Her heart had returned to being ice, but it felt like her whole body was being swallowed up in red-hot grief and anger. Signora would dedicate herself solely to the Tsaritsa’s noble dream. It was the only thing she could do now, with nothing else to do and no one left for her freezing heart to love. No one could ever hope to understand the grief and pain she’s been through. Perhaps, that was why when she stood in front of the Raiden Shogun’s sword, she did not feel much regret.

Pantalone:

Whenever Pantalone went out, he often found himself looking through the windows of many stores to view their products. It was almost an instinct to pull out a large sum of Mora to buy anything he thought you’d like. And he still did this, only that he stopped halfway every time when he remembered that you were no longer with him. And his heart felt painfully heavy once again, like how heavy his smile felt with the pressure to keep it up.

The silence of his office had become a norm once again, your joyful presence no longer around to brighten it up. Pantalone opted to drown himself in paperwork to ignore it. Actually, he never realized how much the tick of the grandfather clock bothered him until now. Usually, your voice was loud enough to hide it. He sighed and reached for the bottom drawer to get some new pens to sign the documents. But his eyes widened as he saw a paper clearly laid out there, addressed to him at the top. His heart beat quickened as he carefully picked it up and realized it was from you. It seemed like you had experimented with some fancy calligraphy pens he had gotten you a while ago. And you had also stolen every stamp you had from him and stamped all over the paper.

Darling,

Hello, my love. Sorry for all the random stamps. I wanted to see what they looked like. Why does the Fatui need so many different-shaped stamps? You should make one of us, actually. And do you see I’ve been practicing my cursive script? (Indeed, on the back on the paper, your name has been signed in different styles.) I’ve been trying to do my signature all fancy like you. Hopefully, I’m improving.

I am thinking to make you read me a bedtime story tonight. I found a new one that seemed pretty cute. It’s a commoner falling in love with a nobleman… a tale of forbidden romance. It seems to go fine, until the commoner s/cc/mbs to (It seems that you scratched off the rest of the sentence.) Actually, I won’t spoil the ending for you. But by the time you read this letter, we may have finished it already. I’m just going to abuse that pretty voice of yours as much as I can (kidding of course… but no joke. Have you tried some kind of service where you just read things to people? I think you’d make a lot of money from that. I sure would give all my life savings to you.)

I guess since I’m writing this, I should say another thing I’m thinking about. I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on. I’m trying my best because I don’t want to let you down. I know you’ve been trying your best, with all these fancy doctors and equipment, but um… yeah. But I should also say that I’m not regretful having spent my time with you. You made the last days of my life so relaxing, so stress-free, so… nice. I’m glad I don’t need to worry about anything with you. Let’s move on from this, actually.

I’m thinking of a lot of things, actually. I wonder what you made the chef prepare for us tonight. Mhm… I’m getting hungry. Will you feed me dessert again too? Hah, I’m going to miss thinking about such mundane things. Hmm, I think I can hear your voice down the hall, so I’ll wrap this up. I love you.

Pantalone gazed at your words forlornly, his mouth formed into a downwards line. He had never thought the loss of something besides Mora could squeeze his heart so painfully, but here you were, making his eyes sting once again. Blinking back any tears, he made sure to store your letter in a safe place. He made a note to visit your grave today. He’d bring your favorite snack too, and read you a story perhaps.

Sandrone:

It was almost ironic - the puppet master had become a puppet herself. She didn’t speak much to others anymore, choosing to lock herself up in her lab. A part of her debated making some kind of robot or doll replica of you. But it would never be the same. She wouldn’t feel your warmth, or your natural, free laugh. Nothing would be similar.

Sandrone had begun inspections on all of her created robots. It was a grueling process she had gotten used to, but she missed the chirping of your voice as she did so. She worked in silence, opening the compartment of one of them when she was caught off guard by a formerly white paper, caked in dust, inside. The only person who had access to her Automatons was you. So could it possibly be…?

My forever,

I’m actually writing this in the same room as you. You're too preoccupied with your robot building and engineering and all that stuff, so you don’t notice me rushing to write all of this. I’ll make this quick. Actually, it’s hard to concentrate when you look so pretty and intelligent. Ahh, I’m so lucky to have you with me.

I think you’re repairing one of your robots so it can lift us up and take us on a walk. I’m excited. Those are always so much fun. I know you aren’t a sappy person. But I want to make my feelings clear, since I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to watch you unscrew some bolts and hammer down the nails. I don’t need to say it outright, do I? We both know I’ve been getting worse. Neither of us wants to say it out loud, but it’s reality.

Before I go, let me make it clear, since I know you like being blunt. You are my everything. Seeing your cute little robots send me these cute little messages really made my day. I think you told me a long time ago that you didn’t care much about human emotions. I think that’s changed now. I love waking up to see that calm and content expression on your face and watching it become a bit more softer when you see me. You’re more human than you think, you know. Some people think that being cooped up in a lab with a Harbinger is not an ideal way to live. But I beg to differ. I would choose no other way to live as long as I’m with you, Sandrone.

I think you’re finished with your tinkering. I’m going to have one of the robots hide this paper in them. I think some of them like me better than you >:) I wonder how long it’ll be until you find it. Hopefully, you don’t find it too quickly because it’ll be awkward to explain this to you. Either way… I love you dearly, Sandrone.

Sandrone gently brushed off the dust on your letter. She wished she found it sooner. She didn’t know whether it was good or bad her heart was finally feeling some emotion again, but she was grateful to have some final parting words from you. Sandrone had a bubble of inspiration float up in her. She had a good idea of what she was going to build next.

Childe:

Childe had found it after he was cleaning out your apartment in Liyue. He wanted to bring all of your stuff to his home in Snezhnaya. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t throw any of your items away, even the random useless trinkets. Childe’s chest felt hollow as he opened the door to your residence. He expected to see your face brighten and eagerly pull yourself out of bed to hug him. He’d easily lift you off the floor and spin you around, drinking in your gleeful giggles as he pressed his lips to yours. But now it was just the creak of the floorboards as he walked in.

Childe had a memory connected to every piece of clothing that you had. That one he gifted to you for your birthday. Another he remembered twirling you around in on a picnic. One of his sweaters that he doesn't remember you stealing from him, mingled with your scent and his. Archons, his chest hurt so badly, but there was nothing he could do as he neatly placed your items in boxes, emptiness consuming him. He was finishing up the packing when a piece of paper folded in half fell out of one of your pants’ pockets. Childe picked it up and his eyes widened when he recognized your handwriting and his real name. Sitting down on your bed, he began to read.

To my one and only Ajax,

My greatest wish is that you’ll never find and read this letter because it means that we’re living our best lives. We’re happy, content, still deeply in love with each other… living in bliss. 

But if you’re reading this, then we probably didn’t go and do all of the cool and exciting things you wanted us to. I didn’t move to Sneznhnaya and I didn’t meet the rest of your family. We didn’t go travel to all the nations like you wanted to…

Heh, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing the same sights you saw on your travels. The pretty bloom of Inazuma’s sakura trees, the beautiful snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya. Remember that time you asked me if I wanted to conquer the world with you? Of course, since I can’t ever say no to you, I accepted your proposition. But in my head, I couldn’t help but think that you should probably choose someone who can match your ability and someone who is act/a/ly g/i/g to b/ ali/e. (The previous words have been haphazardly erased, making it hard to make out.)

You know I… (The ink here has bled through the paper, most likely due to you stopping there for a good while.) I don’t even know what to say, I’m just sorry. I don’t wanna leave you, I wanna be by your side forever, wanna be attacked by your cuddles every day. But the only thing I can do now is to make sure you understand that I’m truly grateful for you. No one else has ever cared about me as much as you did. You never stopped believing in me and always smiled when I needed you. You made my feeble life worth living.

Please don’t be sad. Teucer and the rest of your siblings need you. I love you so very much…

He didn’t realize how hard he was digging his fingernails into his skin until he started bleeding through the paper. Childe had been through endless battles, and fought countless enemies, but no wound had ever burned as badly as his heart did right now. Even in the Abyss, he did not feel as bottomless of despair as he felt right now. He wanted to hold you again too, Childe thought. He wanted to kiss you all over and show you how much he loved you. But you were gone, and the letter just solidified it more. He laid down on your bed, hand covering his forehead as he stared blankly at your ceiling. Biting down on his lip hard, he tried to prevent tears from flowing again. He would just go back to being the Tsarista’s weapon again, drowning himself in battle and blood just to feel something after your death.

[thewitcheress2389]

Hello! If you feel like it, could you write something for Geralt x reader? Reader is touch starved and doesn't want to initiate affection, but Geralt catches on bc she relaxes when their shoulders brush or when he pats her shoulder. One day he's had enough of her being so uptight, so he holds her and she just goes boneless with relief.

I relate to this so much Anon, putting my own feelings in this one❤️😂 Hope you enjoy! Sorry if it's jumbled, I was in a state when I wrote this XD

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A Witcher's Senses

You forget that a witcher has enhanced senses. Funny enough, Geralt doesn't really need them to figure out your problem.

Most men don't understand, but witchers are even more ignorant. They don't have the need to be held, the need to be touched. Not like a woman like you needs. And you don't just mean "touched" because not all touch is good. Some touch is selfish, uncomfortable, and lacking all mannerisms of a proper gentleman.

No. You want touch to be gentle, full of love.

Geralt was the only man that you could share this with-without his knowledge. Witchers weren't exactly ones for holding hands or exchanging hugs. The only affection they ever receive is from a one night stand that they paid for with their gold from a gruesome hunt. The closest you've ever been to Geralt with his knowledge is when you had to clean his wounds after a dicey encounter with a leshen or a werewolf.

But you needed more. You craved more from him.

"Y/N, can you tie up Roach." It was a command from Geralt, who wasn't looking at you as he handed you the leather reins. You eyed his hand, the way his fingers gently caressed the leather.

"Yeah." You said softly, reaching out to grab hold of the horse. And then, your fingers touched.

You lingered, lingered longer than expected. His skin was rough, but also very warm. You loved it, you loved the feeling that you haven't had in years. You didn't care that he was a witcher. He was still a man that had warm skin and a gentle aura about him. His touch made you relax. Softly, you began to smile to yourself.

"Y/N, Roach is getting anxious." Geralt's voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you realized that he had let go of the reins long ago, his touch gone. You blushed in embarrassment when he finally heard Roach pawing the ground.

Mumbling an apology, you led the mare to a nearby tree, Geralt's gaze following you the whole way.

He wasn't stupid.

Jaskier might call him uncaring, ignorant, and hardy but the witcher was actually quite the opposite. He had better sight, better hearing, and a better sense of smell than most men. But even with all that, he struggles to read people sometimes. You were shy, didn't say much to him, but your eyes held so much emotion. But you, you were more obvious than you probably wanted.

When you pretend to trip and bump into him, your heartrate softens.

When he pats your shoulder after a fearful encounter, your muscles relax.

When you grab something from him and your fingers touch, your eyes glow and you smile to yourself.

You longed for touch. You needed it, but you didn't want anyone to know that. You were scared to initiate contact, which Geralt sensed when you were just around him. Your quick breathing, nervousness, and raised heartrate. You were uneasy because you lacked the touch you craved, that only he seemed to be able to give you.

Now with the knowledge he had, Geralt was confused. Why did you seek him out?

He was a witcher, covered in scars and years of abuse. He didn't know what a soft touch felt like unless he paid for it. Geralt didn't know how to give you what you wanted, however, you seemed to know. You were pretty, so it shouldn't be hard for him. Despite all the negative things that Jaskier has said about him, he always has mentioned that Geralt has more of a heart than most witchers.

Perhaps Geralt just needs to find that heart and give it to you.

So, one night, he did.

You guys were sitting by the fire, Roach was grazing nearby, and Geralt just got done putting things away. He then moved to sit next to you. Close to you. Immediately, his senses picked up your beating heart and nervous sweat. You weren't the only one nervous. Geralt was too. However, he cared about you, he knew what you needed and how he could give it.

The witcher scooted closer and placed an arm around you, pulling you into his chest.

"Geralt?" Your voice was small, face extremely red. The witcher, however, was calm as he rubbed his calloused hand over your shoulder to soothe you.

"Shh...just relax." Geralt said and you did. It was like you melted at his warm touch. Every organ in your body immediately calmed down; your heartrate slowed, breathing slowed, and everything else just relaxed. You sighed pleasantly, finding yourself moving closer to him out of impulse.

"Why are you doing this?" You couldn't stop yourself from asking him, the warmth from both him and the fire easing you. The fire light flickered in his cat-like eyes as he swallowed nervously.

"Because I needed it. I needed your touch." He told you, smiling a bit. Relief seemed to fill in your eyes as you took in his words. Every time that you were afraid to initiate any form of contact was just your nerves getting the best of you. Geralt said he needed you, just like you needed him. You nuzzled your head into his shoulder.

However, Geralt said that to ease you, or that's what he thought.

But he found himself relaxing at your touch as well.

[trans-axolotl]

Can I ask what things have helped you learn to live with psychosis?

Sure! It's definitely been a journey for me, so this is probably going to be a long post lol. I'm also going to add the disclaimer that this is about about me and what worked for me--I don't think this is going to be helpful for everyone and I don't think that everyone needs to think about their psychosis/altered states in the same way that I think about mine.

When I first starting experiencing it, psychosis was very disruptive and incredibly distressing to me. Now, at this point in my life, although my psychosis is often inconvenient or annoying, it generally is not distressing or majorly disrupting my life in the way it used to. a lot of credit for this is due to places like Project LETS, the Hearing Voices Network, etc, that let me see for the first time different ways of thinking about and coping with altered states. The medical model was more harmful than anything for me: it left me feeling like i had no agency over my own experiences, and that the only option the rest of my life would be to submit to varying degrees of surveillance and control with no hope of ever having moments of joy again.

For me, the first step for living with my psychosis was to approach my hallucinations/delusions with a lot of curiosity, and to build up my own picture of what my experience of psychosis was like. I started asking myself a lot of questions:

What do the hallucinations/delusions I experience look like? What do they feel like in my body? What emotions do they bring up for me? What's happening in my life when I'm having more frequent hallucinations/delusions? How do I feel when people challenge me on my hallucinations/delusions? Are there people/places/things that my hallucinations/delusions are happening more frequently around? What parts of my hallucinations/delusions bring me distress? Are there any parts of my hallucinations/delusions that I like? Are there things that help making dealing with hallucinations/delusions easier?

The way I wrote these questions out makes it sound like I had a lot of insight about the fact that I was hallucinating and delusion and makes it sound like I was really methodical about this, which is absolutely not the case. A lot of this was me just like, scribbling in journals and google docs about my theories about angels and my favorite angels and lists of poisons and on and on and on. A lot of the most helpful insights were random ones that I found when I was completely delusional, not in the periods when I had insight and was trying to map all this out.

But overall, what I was able to figure out was that in general, most of my psychosis was associated with one of two themes:

feeling unsafe and worried about dangerous threats

feeling controlled and unable to exercise my autonomy.

This made a lot of sense to me, given my own personal history with trauma and the traumatic things actively happening in my life at the time. When that clicked it felt like so much suddenly made sense, and I was able to get a lot more of an understanding of why certain things felt so distressing and urgent. Having a delusion that all my food is being poisoned creates a level of paranoia and stress that is pretty unreasonable and unhelpful as an adult who buys all their own food. Having that same level of paranoia and stress as a child who had to live in a dangerous situation without any control? A lot more helpful and reasonable for surviving. There were so many hallucinations/delusions (bugs/people in my walls/monsters and blood/etc) that I could clearly track all the ways that they did kind of function as a protective strategy for me in traumatic situations by raising my level of alarm and awareness, but now just caused me so much fucking stress.

At this point, it felt like I had a pretty okay grasp on some of the reasons I was experiencing psychosis, and then wanted to think about how I could actually then cope with it. First I identified all the things that weren't working and instead were just making me pissed off and making things worse.

Logical attempts to reality check me just made me feel more stressed, paranoid, and often made the hallucinations worse and the delusions bigger.

Before, this hadn't made any sense to me, but after identifying those underlying emotions around safety and autonomy it made so much fucking sense. People reality checking me, or even me trying to use logic against hallucinations with myself, didn't do anything to validate my emotions or meet that underlying need. Instead it just made me feel like I wasn't being listened to or believed, that I didn't have anyone I could trust, and that I had to be more on guard, which just perpetuated the whole cycle!

So for me, I realized that any coping skills would need to be centered around validating my emotions and meeting my underlying need for safety and/or autonomy. Practically, what this looked like for me was making a bunch of documents that are titled things like "Tips for if there's bugs inside of you" "Things you like to remember when you're talking to angels" etc etc etc. I think what really helped this work for me is that I didn't title them things like "how to cope with delusions about bugs" because I know that when I'm delusional, reading something like that is just going to piss me off and make me feel like I'm being called a liar. In those documents I write a lot of affirmations for my emotions and then write out a list of specific coping skills, organized from least chaotic/risky to most chaotic/risky. Nothing gets me more pissed off when I'm in a bad space then people trying to get me to use therapeutic coping skills when I don't want to, so I knew that I wanted to include a wide range of out-of-the-box coping skills. I'll share a few from my list of coping skills for increasing autonomy that I put in my "tips for if there's bugs inside of you document."

eat/shower/sleep/talk to someone in real life/pain meds

redecorate your room

shoplift

cut your hair

work on a project like embroidery or knitting or origami where you have to create something with your hands

choose a random place outside and go there

try some DBT/ACT/RODBT skills and see if they help you feel just 2% better, enough that you can do something else that you hate less like distractions.

distract (talk with friends, watch tv, read)

choose a random place outside and go there

make a lot of noise and kick things over in your room

break things

self harm (following my harm reduction plan)

drugs/alcohol

if i'm doing well enough, i try to first use coping skills that don't also have mental or physical risks for myself, but if i need to, I give myself permission to cope in whatever ways meet my needs in the moment and try to let go of some of the shame associated with riskier coping skills. I also have talked about psychosis openly with my trusted friends who know what kinds of support are helpful and what shit just makes me pissed off and frightened.

Overall, this has helped make psychosis a LOT less distressing for me, and over time also has made it happen slightly less. About half the time these days I have insight that what's happening are delusions or hallucinations which has helped make it easier to remember to cope. These days, psychosis mostly happens when my body is under a lot of stress (no sleep/seizure recovery/not eating/injured), and also sort of acts an alarm bell to me that somethings going on in my life that I might not have noticed, either in terms of my physical health or in terms of stressful situations or emotions that I'm not ready to think about or process.

That's one of the reasons that my psychosis is so meaningful to me, to be honest. I honestly feel really grateful that my psychosis gave me a way to externalize and experience my emotions before I was ready or able to experience them and feel them in my body. I think having hallucinations/delusions helped protect me at certain times in my life while still helping me acknowledge in a certain way that I was so fucking angry and grieving and hurt and in pain. I think that helped keep me alive long enough to get to a point where I could start to process and unpack trauma without it completely overwhelming me, or without convincing myself that I needed to be fine at any cost. And maybe it's strange to say I'm grateful for that, but I am.

so. that's most of what has worked for me. The way I wrote it out made it seem super simple and straightforward, but in reality it was absolutely nothing like that. It was years of a lot of chaos and feeling upset so much of the time and feeling absolutely clueless and my loved ones feeling concerned and writing things down and forgetting that I wrote things down and having the same problem over and over agai. just overall was so messy and not at all a linear process like I wrote about it here. I absolutely still have plenty of times where I just fuck off and forget I've ever thought about coping and just go around with hallucinations disrupting my entire day, and plenty of times it's still stressful.

And also again: this is about me and what's worked for me. My biggest advice for other people about coping with psychosis is a lot less about the specifics of a process or exactly what coping skills to use. Instead I think it's a lot more about approaching with curiosity first, just giving yourself the space to explore your psychosis on your own terms, to try things out, to build your own relationship with psychosis and how it fits into your life, and to affirm yourself as someone who does have agency about how you want to think, talk, feel, and cope with your own psychosis/altered states.

hope that was helpful and/or interesting anon, feel free to let me know if you have any other psychosis/altered states questions!

[herejusttosufferalong]

Hi Everyone. Attachment anon here with a bit of an update. First I wanted to thank everyone for the nice comments on my last posts. 

I spent the last couple of weeks just reviewing and observing some of the past interviews and current online behaviors, and I have a few additional things to add based on some comments I’ve seen on this blog. Please note this is just my personal opinion, it may differ than yours, I’m just stating my observations based on the knowledge I’ve gained through my research study. Observation #1

As mentioned in my last two posts, I do think that both A and L have anxious attachment style when it comes to their personal relationship. One thing I want to note is that research shows that people with an anxious attachment style may be more likely to engage in manipulative behaviors, specifically emotional manipulation, when they feel their relationship is threatened. 

I wanted to mention that fact, as it pertains to the next part. The more I observe the interviews and the red carpet, the more I believe that L is a HSP. (Highly sensitive person). About 20% of individuals with ADHD have HSP, but nearly all individuals with HSP have ADHD. Not all HSPs will deal with codependency but I believe we have enough pattern evidence to show a strong probablity that L is an individual that depends on a partner for validation. 

One of the greatest strengths of a HSP is that they are very empathetic. I believe that’s why L’s acting this season was so emotional, because he was empathetic to his character and you can visually see him portray that. 

I’ve seen the following question pop up time and time again: “if A did xyz, why is L still with her?” (First, I’d like to note that I’m not validating any theory, we don’t know what happens bts) If my observational theory is correct and L is also a HSP, then his empathic strength is also the reason he’ll stay in an unhealthy co-dependent relationship. HSP’s will stay in bad relationships, because they’ll tend to empathize with their partner’s POV and begin to justify their bad behaviors - HSPs are compassionate towards others but use it as a band-aid for their personal wounds. 

Unfortunately, these types of relationships will continue to cycle until one person breaks the cycle. Observation #2

I was reviewing the footage from the London premiere and in my notes I wrote “N looks drained”. I had stated in my previous ask that I believe N is a secure individual. However, I also noted that secure individuals can feel drained by an anxious partner if they don’t see progress. I think that’s what I observed at the London premiere - N was beginning to feel drained by L’s anxious behavior. If you look back at the various events, L was quite anxious during the Australian leg of the red carpet. That is understandable for someone with anxiety and ADHD - it’s an overwhelming experience. As we kept going throughout the tour, his behaviors changed and he began to look more comfortable in his red carpet presence. Specifically in Brazil, Toronto, and Ireland - you could see it in his body language. However, through observation I see a regression in the London premiere - his anxiousness in London mimicked the same anxiousness in Australia. What caused the regression is unknown, but it cold have left N feeling emotionally drained which was then observed on the red carpet.

I hate that i'm just now seeing this but anon I'm curious if there are any new observations on N's part that you have seen over the past few weeks?

[mechaknight-98]

Rise Up (NSFW) FT Yoohyeon and Jiu

Author’s note: when I wrote Bon Voyage I had planned to make sequels but each one became so much different from Bon voyage that I eventually scrapped the entire idea and figured it would be best to leave it open ended, maybe give another writer something to go off of but I guess that was an impossible task.

to the anon who asked for this. I am deeply sorry. I was in a very different headspace and emotional state then when I wrote Bon Voyage however long ago. I hope this sequel is appreciated if not I apologize again, because I’m sure this isn’t what you probably expected.

Part I

“I knew it” Yoohyeon gloated.

“Yoohyeon I can… wait you knew,” Othello asked confused.

“I had my suspicion ever since I started developing psionic powers I figured it'd be a matter of time before you developed Magik. So when did it start, what are your powers.”

“I don't know I guess it started when…wait what did you say?”

Yoohyeon smiled before deciding to tease Othello a bit. “What are your powers and when did it start?”

“No before that right “After I had my suspicions” You mentioned something and I want to make sure I heard right.”

“Oh please Othello, it's no big deal. I have been developing psionic powers.” Yoohyeon teased. Othello was about to say something when his phone went off.

“Well continue this later,” Daigo affirmed as he pulled out of Yoohyeon's pleasant pussy.

“Oh, do you have something more important to do than me,” Yoohyeon teased as she began to play with herself. Yoohyeon knew she was playing dirty. Using the one thing she knew that almost always enticed him to stay. She hated that she had to exploit Othello’s hunger for physical affection in this way but she was starting to tire of how people treated him. She just wanted to cuddle him and give him all the love and affection he could ever need.

“Yoon you know you are the most important person in my life right now but Hanni asked for my advice and she said it was urgent,” Othello explained. Immediately Yoohyeon stopped and flew up to get ready. Now understanding that he was needed and not being forced.

“I'm coming with you,” she said seriously in big sister mode. Othello sighed, but Yoohyeon was having none of it. “Not only are we a couple Othello but I will remind you that Hanni was also trained by my mentor so I think I should be a part of whatever she needs from you.” She said defiantly standing her full height would have cut quite the imposing figure but all Othello could think about was bending her over and smacking her fat ass until she begged him to fuck her. His daydream was interrupted when Yoohyeon added,

“We are going to go together when we are done. We are going to come back home and finish what we started.” Othello’s shoulders fell as he relented

“Okay, but you are going to tell her that you were adamant to come since Hanni asked I come alone,” Othello explains. Yoohyeon smiles triumphantly before rushing to get dressed.

Despite her usual poise and grace Yoohyeon tripped in their bedroom and was caught in the nick of time by Othello.

Yoohyeon stood dressed in front of Othello having finished changing. Realizing she wasn't backing down he went to redo his bandages.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Only you and Lorgar know and I intend to keep it that way,” Othello explained.

Yoohyeon scoffed “Oh you're so silly. Just follow my lead okay.”

Othello sighed “Okay sure.”

The couple arrived at the chosen cafe where Hanni was waiting. She grimaced when she saw Yoohyeon. She had hoped she would only be talking to her “older brother” as this was urgent.

“Why is she here?” Hanni asked as her voice dropped upon seeing Yoohyeon.

Yoohyeon smiled, “we are a packaged deal” she exclaimed proudly. Both Hanni and Othello cringed before they laughed together.

The trio sits down and Othello cuts straight to it.

“So Hanni what’s wrong?”

Hanni twiddles her fingers her eyes darting from Othello to Yoohyeon. She gulped.

“It’s okay Hanni just tell us what’s wrong you’re safe with us.” Yoohyeon consoled. Hanni took a a shakes breath, then one that was more relaxed.

“I am developing psionic powers,” she said. After she spoke she waited for gasps and shocked indignation. When she received niether she looked at an unsurprised Yoohyeon and Othello. She noticed their faces were concerned but unsurprised. She then looked down at Othello’s arms and noticed trails of witch marks running along them. Hanni’s eyes widened as she opened her mouth to speak but Othello covered her mouth before she could rev up.

“Let’s continue this back at Yoohyeon and I’s place. Does that work for you?” Othello asked and Hanni nodded.

11 minutes later the trio was in Yoohyeon and Othello’s shared residence Hanni shaking from the revelation she learned earlier.

Othello breaks the ice“You have witch marks. You can do magic and psionics.” He says, “Why tell me instead of your mentor or even Yoon?”

“With the tensions rising between the Circle and the empire I wanted to turn to the only Psionic user I trusted.” Hanni stammered

“You know I’m the most “by the book” codex bearer right” Othello retorted with raised eyebrows. Hanni rolled her eyes and countered with

“Yes, I hear legends about how your malicious compliance vexes the lore masters to no end,” Othello laughs.

“I’m still compliant though.”

“So are you gonna report me to the high witch coven?” Hanni challenges

“Hell no. I’m not a ward witch so I’m not bound by y’all’s policies and bylaws.” Hanni smiled gratefully as her instinct was proven.

“Yeah because he’d have to report me as well,” Yoohyeon said to Hanni as she showed Hanni her psionic mark. Hanni’s eyes widened as she saw the concentric circular rings that aligned between Yoohyeon’s shoulder blades at the base of her neck.

“Well now you have to report each other,” Othello teased. Hanni and Yoohyeon laughed as Othello sat on the couch.

“Oh be quiet Mr. I’m developing Magik and have been keeping it a secret.” Yoohyeon teased.

Othello smiled and Hanni finally remembered what she wanted to ask.

“Oh yeah so how long has that been a thing, and what are your powers,” Hanni said

Othello wiped his face. While funny Hanni’s enthusiasm and energy could be exhausting.

“Not sure yet haven’t used them,” Othello said to the surprise of both witches.

“Why not?” Hanni asked

“Because they work completely differently than psionics. So I’d have to readjust from bottom to top in terms of skill and ability.” Othello explained. The two girls smiled and then replied

“Well, how about you give us the basics of psionics and we give you the basics of magic,” Yoohyeon said happily. Othello considered for a moment then agreed.

“Okay.” Othello said but before he could dive into the lesson his “phone” went off

“Yeah, Lorgar?”

“Right now,”

“Oh yeah, I’ll come now.”

Hanni and Yoohyeon look confused at Othello until he says,

“Ventus and Terra have entered into a civil war. The guild is starting a discussion about it.” Orion explained.

As Orion, Yoohyeon, and Hanni made their way to the space guild meeting, the atmosphere buzzed with a mix of anticipation and unspoken tension. The path leading to the guild hall was lined with towering trees, their branches forming a natural canopy that dappled the sunlight onto the ground below. Yoohyeon walked briskly beside Orion, her expression focused, while Hanni trailed slightly behind, her mind preoccupied with thoughts of her burgeoning psionic powers.

As they approached the entrance to the guild hall, Orion spotted a familiar figure waiting near the doorway. Jiu, Yoohyeon's coven leader, and Orion's flirtatious older sister leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed and a playful smile tugging at her lips. Her presence was both comforting and slightly unnerving, her keen eyes seeming to take in everything at once.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite little codex keeper," Jiu greeted, her voice warm yet teasing as Orion approached and she looked up at him. "It's been a while. Still keeping busy, I see?"Hanni and Yoohyeon smile at Jiu’s remark.

Orion nodded softly, trying to mask the weariness he felt deep within. "You know how it is, Jiu. There's always something that needs doing."

Jiu studied him for a moment, her gaze penetrating. She reached out and gently touched his arm, her expression softening. "You're looking a bit more worn out than usual, Orion. Are you getting enough rest?" Yoohyeon despite knowing that Orion only had eyes for her felt a pang of jealousy. Jiu and Orion always seemed to have this innate bond but they never really knew what to do with it. She also that Jiu and Orion had feelings for each other in the past and those might not have gone away as cleanly as they declared

Orion hesitated, his usual defenses crumbling under her scrutiny. "No I haven’t," he admitted feeling guilty, glancing away momentarily. He hesitated in adding "There's just been a lot on my mind."

Jiu's eyes narrowed slightly, concern etching her features. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this," she admonished, her voice laced with genuine care. "I know you've got a lot on your plate, but you need to take care of yourself too."Hanni found herself agreeing with Jiu. Orion had been on 4 expeditions in the last six weeks all of which ventured into the KO-35 region which stood on the precipice of a galactic war.

Orion nodded, appreciating her concern but unsure how to ease the burden weighing on his shoulders. "I'll try," he promised, though both of them knew it was easier said than done.

Sensing the deeper fatigue within him, Jiu leaned closer, her voice dropping to a softer tone. "Just remember, you're not alone, Orion. You've got people who care about you." to further cap her point she kissed his cheek and smiled lovingly at him.

Her words lingered in the air, offering a solace that Orion rarely allowed himself to accept. He gave her a small, grateful smile, knowing that she would always be there to support him, no matter what challenges lay ahead.

"Thanks, Jiu," he said, his voice sincere.

Before they could move on, Yoohyeon chimed in, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You two are so cute," she teased, nudging Orion playfully. "Jiu, I swear you worry about him more than I do."

Jiu laughed, the sound light and musical. "Well, someone has to make sure he doesn’t work himself into the ground," she replied, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

Orion rolled his eyes, though he couldn't suppress a small smile. "I feel like I'm being ganged up on," he remarked, feigning exasperation.

Yoohyeon grinned. "Just admit it, you love the attention."

Orion put his hands up and clarified, I like being cared for, there is a difference,” Hanni said Yoohyeon both laughed rigorously.

Jiu joined in on the teasing, crossing her arms and giving Orion a mock-serious look. "Maybe we should just adopt him into the coven, Yoohyeon. That way, we can keep an even closer eye on him and give him all the care his little dark heart could want."

Orion shook his head, chuckling. "As tempting as that sounds, I think I'll pass."

With their playful banter easing some of the tension, the group headed into the guild hall, ready to face whatever awaited them within. As they walked in Jiu watched Orion and remembered the first time they met.

It was a sweltering summer day and Jiu stood outside practicing her Ward Witch magiks. The marketplace was bustling with activity, the air filled with the sounds of vendors calling out their wares and the chatter of shoppers haggling for the best deals. Orion, still a young and eager Codex Keeper apprentice at the time, navigated through the crowd with a determined focus, his mind was set on finding a new restaurant he hadn’t seen before.

He was so absorbed in his task that he barely noticed the commotion ahead until he nearly stumbled into it. A group of unruly teenagers was harassing a street performer, a girl a little bit older than Orion himself. Her jet black hair was unmistakable, cascading down her shoulders as she expertly juggled glowing orbs, her face a mask of concentration.

"Come on, show us something really impressive!" one of the teens jeered, grabbing at one of the orbs.

Orion felt a surge of righteous rage rises within him. He couldn't stand by and watch someone be bullied, especially someone with such obvious talent. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, his voice steady despite the nervousness he felt.

"Hey, leave her alone," he called out, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "She doesn't owe you anything."

The teens turned to look at him, sizing him up with a mix of disdain and amusement. Before they could respond, the girl with the jet-black hair caught the stolen orb with a flourish and flashed a defiant smile.

"Thanks for the assist, but I've got this," she said, her voice carrying a playful edge as she deftly maneuvered around the teens, her movements as fluid as water. In a swift motion, she sent the glowing orbs swirling around the group, creating a dazzling light show that mesmerized the onlookers.

Orion watched in awe as the bullies retreated, grumbling but outmatched. The girl caught the orbs effortlessly, letting them wink out one by one as the crowd erupted into applause.

"Nice trick," Orion said as she approached him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Thanks," she replied, extending a hand. "I'm Jiu."

"Orion," he replied, shaking her hand, feeling an instant connection.

"You're pretty brave for stepping in like that," Jiu noted, a teasing lilt to her voice. "Not many people would."

Orion shrugged, a little embarrassed by the praise. "I just didn’t like seeing them push you around."

Jiu laughed, a bright, infectious sound that made him smile. "Well, I'm glad you did. How about a reward? Are you hungry?” Jiu asked. Orion nodded as he responded “Always” and Jiu smiled. “Let me show you around. I know all the best spots in town."

From that day on, Orion and Jiu were inseparable. She introduced him to the hidden gems of the city, and he helped her ward witch studies she was his first friend in the mega city planet and that meant something special to him. Jiu knew that in watching how he always took care of not only her but Jiu’s coven mates and Jiu’s teacher and her students. She felt a pang of sadness when Yoohyeon said she and Orion started dating because she thought they would be together but both Orion and Jiu made silent agreements to suppress their feelings for each other a long time ago.

As Jiu, Orion, Hanni, and Yoohyeon walked into the guild hall, the grand space was alive with energy and chatter. The room was filled with fellow guild members, their conversations creating a lively hum that echoed off the high ceilings and intricate woodwork. The sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the floor.

Jiu led the way, her confident stride drawing attention from those they passed. Orion followed closely, his expression focused yet distracted. Hanni and Yoohyeon brought up the rear, their whispers punctuated by occasional giggles.

As they moved through the hall, Jiu’s eyes fell on Orion’s arm. The sleeves of his jacket had pulled back slightly, revealing the faint glow of his magic lines beneath his skin. She paused, her curiosity piqued by the intricate patterns she hadn’t noticed before.

"Orion," Jiu said, touching his shoulder lightly to get his attention. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Orion nodded, glancing at Hanni and Yoohyeon. "Go ahead, I'll catch up in a bit," he said to them, reassuring them with a nod.

Jiu led him to a quieter corner of the hall, away from the bustling crowd. She turned to face him, her eyes focused on the glowing lines. "Um, what are these?” She asked calmly as she raised Orion’s jacket sleeves. Orion tried to hide them but it was too late Jiu saw them and demanded answers, “When did these develop?” She asked her voice held expectant.

Orion sighed and said,” After the Mohg incident.”

Jiu's eyes widened, and she responded, “So you did use flame arrows on him.”

Orion shrugged. Jiu gazed at his lines and felt a warm sense of familiarity in the images from them. Jiu reached out, her fingers hovering near his arm as if seeking permission. Orion nodded, and she gently traced the lines with her fingertips. The glow responded to her touch, sparking with a vibrant energy that surprised them both.

"Wow," Jiu breathed, captivated by the interaction. "It’s like they’re alive."

Orion chuckled, the warmth of her touch sending a strange comfort through him. "It feels like they have a mind of their own sometimes," he admitted, a soft smile playing on his lips.

Jiu looked up at him, her expression serious yet filled with wonder. "Do you know what they mean? What do they signify?"

Orion shook his head, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "Not entirely. I’ve been trying to figure it out, but it’s like solving a puzzle with missing pieces."

Jiu’s gaze softened, her empathy for him deepening. "Maybe we can figure it out together," she offered, her voice earnest.

Orion nodded, grateful for her support. "I’d like that."

Jiu turned back to Orion’s face, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Orion heard the hurt in Jiu’s voice and saw it reflected in her eyes, so he responded as softly as possible “Jiu I was scared. You know this is a big deal and not supposed to happen, plus you had enough on your plate with Mohg. I couldn’t add anything else to that,” while Jiu had admired Orion’s sense of Heroism she hated the burdens he took on because of them.

“Damn it Othello you should have told me. You can’t keep up all these heroics by yourself.” Jiu snapped. A surge of protectiveness and affection surged through her that she couldn’t suppress anymore.

“You’ve always sacrificed so much given so much of yourself to everyone else but never take care of yourself. When was your last off day? When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t rationed? The last time you wrote your poetry?” Jiu questioned as her voice broke. Her magic lines glow intensely. Orion grabs her and hugs her before saying,

“Jiu I’m doing my best.”

“That’s not good enough. Tonight I’m taking you off the planet to rest on Sentai VI because you need it.” Jiu demanded and Orion sighed.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to Minji” (jiu’s real name)

Minji met Othello’s gaze and they were not Jiu the coven leader of insomnia and powerful ward witch or Orion the infamous Codex keeper but Minji and Othello. Two souls facing the universe alone. They stood close as millions of emotions and tensions long buried deep came to the surface and they kissed. Minji felt her heart finally ease as it took the place it always belonged as did Orion’s but as quickly as the emotions came they vanished. Suppressed under mountains of logic and stoic duty. Minji sighed as spoke to Othello. After today I’m taking you on vacation if you need it. You should not be pushing yourself this hard.” She said firmly. Their hearts screamed out to deafened minds to embrace each other and run away from it all. But alas here we are.

Jiu’s stern face gazed into Orion’s softer one, “we’ll talk more tomorrow.” Jiu said before leaving. Orion’s head was left spinning.

The group entered the guild hall and separated into their respective factions. The meeting started and chaos ensued various ship captains made very known their fear and turmoil over the civil war as many prime members of the guild and federation leaders were from prime Terra and Ventus. The question was now would the federation and guild stay neutral? Also, the loss of the two biggest federation ports (albeit temporarily) meant massive hits to the commerce of the federation. Tensions were high among many except for a few key figures Jiu, Lorgar, Lady Sunshine, and Orion as they were from noncore planets. Lady Sunshine watched Orion sit in his chair. She watched as he processed things a thousand words at a time. She decided to throw him in the mix to see if he could solve their problems.

“Members of the council we have yet to consider outside perspectives especially those who may be well-versed in warfare.” Lady Sunshine said as the room went silent. Suddenly a thousand eyes or so were watching and waiting for Orion’s response.

Orion felt their gaze the room beginning to shrink around him as the walls closed in, and felt his rage intensifying. Why must he be the voice of reason for people who wouldn’t listen? He could rule over all of them now was his chance he had felled two warlords already and a tyrant. He could easily quell the cowardly federation. The galaxies were at constant war bickering like children. He could rule them all stop the bickering establish total peace all he needed was an army and a week.

To many Orion’s silence was maliciously obvious. His aura felt like an angered and tired God who was exhausted from saving people from a stream of endless catastrophes and disasters. Many could feel the cold and eldritch fury radiating off of him and waited with bated breath for him to rage. Jiu watched and her heart ached as she finally understood his burden.

As he tried to suppress his demands for conquest that raged within a voice rang out to him in his mind, it was Jiu she was calm as she spoke, “Breathe Othello. It will be okay.” Othello took a deep breath and his rage didn’t dissipate but became calm and focused.

“We establish that while this war wages we will be neutral but the federation ports will remain under federation control, and as long as no war is waged on them both planets may continue to utilize them, but all tax collections will be ceased.” Everyone remained silent impressed at the Eldorian’s calm demeanor and wizened proposal.

Leito stood up and said, “Absolutely, Codex Keeper Orion and I along with ward witches Jiu and Yoohyeon will lead an expedition to Terra and Ventus as a show of strength.”

Orion’s mind races as the council members all quickly agree to the plan. Save Lady Sunshine, Lorgar, or anyone who Jiu knew Orion.

Surprisingly Codex Keeper Leovold spoke out, “Keeper Leito. While I acknowledge the prowess and dedication shown by Keeper Orion. His fatigue is most concerning. He has completely 4 extremely harrowing expeditions in the last 6 weeks alone through KO-35 maybe it is time for a well-earned break for Codex Keeper Orion.”

Leito spoke with terror in his eyes and heart and not his pride. His parents were Ventus and Terran. He wanted to make sure they were safe and as much as Leito hated Orion. He knew Orion was the best bet to establish peace between the planets that would last.

“While your concerns are valid Keeper Leovold. Orion’s experience with war states demands he must be part of this mission along with his power.” Leito said, and a majority of the council who had heard the tales of him agreed. He was the only choice.

The meeting ended after that as the waves of concerns were washed away by a tsunami of fear and uncertainty.

After the meeting, Yoohyeon and Hanni ran to Orion and thanked him graciously for helping guide them, but Orion felt guilty as the weight of everything was getting to him. He could feel the burden pushing him into a corner and only known to him and Jiu there was an animal inside of Orion. One fueled by Conquest, Lust, and fury. If that wasn’t enough the kiss from earlier weighed heavily on his mind. Guilt gnawed at him as Yoohyeon kissed him relieved as did numerous other emotions. He decided to tell Yoohyeon what happened when they got back to their apartment.

When Othello finished his story Yoohyeon stood silent for 15 minutes staring at him unreadable. Othello’s worrying increased with each passing moment.

“Do you love her still,” Yoohyeon asked after a few more minutes.

“I don’t know. All I know is that I feel turmoil.” Orion replied and Yoohyeon finally saw Orion she saw the fatigue set in his features the gnawing rage festering like an infected wound but also she saw compassion and hope despite the encroaching darkness that threatened to engulf him. Rather than push him down further she said,

“Go to her then and just talk then tell me what happens between the two of you. You need to talk to each other about all of this.” Othello nodded and called Jiu and the two met at a library where Minji was studying new spells. She had reached a wall when Othello arrived. She looked up and smiled when he brought their mutual favorite snack to her.

“My hero,” she said smiling.

“Oh please none of that,”

“Why I thought you liked being the courageous hero who rises above all evil including the darkness in his heart,” Minji questioned.

Othello sighed as he rolled up his sleeves and sat next to Minji, “I don’t know each day I feel less and less heroic.”

Minji nodded before saying, “Well I think you handle yourself well. Especially with old magic raging through you,”

“Old Magic?”

“Yes, Old Magic. The fury of the gods and their kind lives and breathes through you. Can’t you feel it?”Minji asked.

“Um not that I know of,” Othello answered.

Minji smiled and said, “Tell me then what haunts you when you sleep at night?”

“The dragon tortoise in the shadows of my mind,” Orion answered unprompted. He looked at Minji whose magic lines were flowing magenta. She smiled before saying. As they drew closer Othello’s began to glow as well a complimentary teal. Their eyes locked as their powers mixed and suppressed emotion rose to the surface with rapacious expressions of affection.

Minji got from her chair and plunged into an intense kiss with Othello their hearts screaming jubilantly at the release as they kissed memories flowed between them as the old magic brought them closer. Minji saw the harsh training Othello faced under Lorgar and his father. She felt the scorching sun of his planet. She felt the long hours of study, while Othello felt Minji’s sadness and fear of rejection. He felt her years of training to become something only for them to be cast aside at first. Anger rises within both of them as their auras mix and mash their minds, and souls together in a soup of turgid emotions. Their kiss breaks and their eyes lock again before they come from their mutual high and duty takes precedence. They separate and get up as the auras mellow out. Before going back to studying.

In a dimly lit study, the air filled with the subtle scent of aged parchment and ink, Minji found herself standing close to Othello as they pored over an ancient codex. The faint glow of magical lines pulsed beneath Othello’s skin, a signature of his connection to the arcane. As Minji reached over to point out a passage, her fingers brushed lightly against his hand, causing their magic lines to momentarily spark and intertwine.

Startled, Minji drew back slightly, her eyes widening as she observed the phenomenon. "Othello," she said softly, awe and curiosity lacing her voice. "Look at that."

Othello glanced down at his hand, noticing the subtle dance of energy between them. His lines, normally a steady teal, shimmered as they wove seamlessly with Jiu’s fiery magenta. The colors merged into a vibrant purple, creating a harmonious display of their combined power. As the aurora danced above they wondered why then and what it meant.

"Wow," Othello murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. He was as captivated as Minji by the sight, the lines illuminating the space between them with a gentle glow.

Minji leaned closer, examining the intricate patterns their magic had formed. "I've never seen anything like this," she admitted, her tone a mix of wonder and disbelief. "It's as if our magic recognizes each other."

Othello nodded, feeling a strange sense of connection he hadn’t fully comprehended before. "It’s like they’re meant to work together," he said, the realization settling in with a mix of amazement and comfort.

Their proximity allowed Minji to notice the fatigue etched into Othello’s features more clearly. The glow of their magic highlighted the shadows under his eyes, a testament to his recent struggles, but she also saw jubilation and peace. It made her heart swell with joy.

"Othello," Minji said gently, her concern evident. "You’re carrying so much on your own. Maybe it’s time you let someone share that burden."

He met her gaze, seeing the sincerity and care reflected in her eyes. The magic lines between them pulsed again, a silent promise of strength and unity. "Maybe you’re right," he admitted, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten ever so slightly.

He met her gaze, seeing the sincerity and care reflected in her eyes. The magic lines between them pulsed again, a silent promise of strength and unity. "Maybe you’re right," he admitted, feeling the weight on his shoulders lighten ever so slightly.

Minji smiled, a warmth spreading through her at the thought of supporting him in more ways than one. "We make a pretty good team," she said, her voice playful yet sincere.

Othello chuckled, nodding in agreement. "We always have the only reason it’s not more well-known is because Leito had a crush on you and wanted to woo you,”

Minji’s eyes narrowed as she realized that they had been orchestrated apart, and her heart became heavy.

As they returned their focus to the text, their hands still closed, the magic lines continued their silent dance silently weaving the hound and The Tiger together in the weave of fate. Eventually, both collapsed after reading spells and psionics for hours.

The next day Othello woke up and saw that Minji had a psionic symbol between her shoulders that mirrored his except hers except instead of a hellhound it was an exalted tiger. At this point, Othello was so unfazed that it didn’t matter. Realizing he needed to go back to his home with Yoohyeon. As he leaves he feels guilt for leaving Minji alone.

On arriving back Yoohyeon is not alone and is talking with Timothy. Yoohyeon smiles and hugs Othello she is surprised he smells like old books and smores. She expected him to smell like Minji and when he doesn’t it confuses her.

“Did you talk to Jiu?” She asked. Othello nodded and explained how he helped her study a spell on emotional understanding,” Yoohyeon laughed which Timothy mirrored.

“Jiu is always studying,” Timothy lamented, and both Yoohyeon and Othello nodded.

Two weeks later

The bright light from the high, narrow windows of Lorgar's study cast shadows across the room. Ancient tomes and scrolls lined the shelves, their worn spines testaments to centuries of accumulated wisdom. Orion stood at the doorway, hesitating for a moment before entering. Crossing this border made the last few weeks and the upcoming expedition very real and the stakes that came with it very high.

"Lorgar," Orion said, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of tension.

Lorgar looked up from the parchment he was studying, his eyes sharp and attentive. "Orion. Come in. What news do you bring?"

Orion approached, stopping at the large oak desk that separated them. "The expedition is set to depart later today. Leito has invited Codex Keepers Freyjar, Ayara, Leovold, Yuta, and Yato.

Lorgar chuckled knowingly as he remembered when all of them were training and all used to be friends but not work colleagues at best. He sighed lamenting the political nature of this title. He noticed Orion’s unease.

Lorgar leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he considered this. "Why does their presence concern you?"

Orion shifted his weight, the anxiety he tried to mask seeping through. "I don't trust their motives, especially when fear drives decisions. Leito's

Fear and desire to save his family pushes him to seek out “the strongest” but in some cases, they might not be the best ."

Lorgar nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And Yoohyeon? How is she handling this?"

Orion hesitated, then spoke with a mix of regret and relief. "Honestly fully unsure sir. I know she and the rest of her coven are coming but I couldn’t tell you her emotional state right now. We broke up. It was mutual, and we're still friends. But it feels strange not having her by my side like before."

The Loremaster studied Orion closely, noting the subtle changes in his demeanor. The energy around Orion seemed different—stronger, more vibrant. The magic lines beneath his skin pulsed with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

"Your magic," Lorgar remarked, his gaze narrowing. "It's grown stronger. And your psionics too. I can sense it. Have you been training?"

Orion shook his head. "In magic No I haven’t been training. I've just been spending time with Jiu, studying with her like we used to. It feels... natural."

Lorgar's expression shifted, a hint of concern clouding his eyes. "Jiu? Why does that name sound familiar?

“Oh yeah, Jiu is the witch's name for Minji we used to run around the city together,”

Lorgar’s concern grew he had separated the pair to stop a soul bond, but it seemed it was too late.

Orion met Lorgar's gaze, a mix of defiance and confusion in his eyes. "Anything else you want to talk about sir?"

Lorgar sighed, rising from his chair and pacing slowly. "Orion, the reason Lady Sunshine and I separated you two was not just for your safety but to protect you both from external manipulation. Your combined potential is immense, and in the wrong hands, it could be disastrous."

Orion remained silent, absorbing Lorgar's words. The weight of his mentor's concern settled heavily on him.

"I'll be cautious," Orion finally said, his tone resolute. "But I can't ignore the bond we have, especially when everything feels so uncertain."

Lorgar stopped, placing a reassuring hand on Orion's shoulder. "I trust your judgment, but remember the responsibility that comes with power. Keep me informed, and take care as you embark on this expedition."

Orion nodded, feeling a mixture of gratitude and determination. "I will, Lorgar. Thank you." After that, he walked away to get packed.

The communication crystal glowed faintly on Lorgar's desk, casting a soft light across the room. Lorgar took a deep breath before activating it, feeling the familiar tingle of magic as it connected him to Lady Sunshine across the stars.

Her image flickered into view, regal and serene despite the distance. Her eyes, sharp as ever, met his with a knowing gaze.

"Lorgar," she greeted, her voice warm yet with an undercurrent of wisdom. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He hesitated briefly, then spoke, his tone tinged with concern. "It's about Othello and Minji. The bond between them... I can sense it growing stronger, beyond what we tried to prevent."

Lady Sunshine nodded as if she had anticipated this conversation. "I know. It's a bond forged by Old Magic, Lorgar. We can no longer stop it."

Lorgar frowned, the weight of her words settling heavily on him. "Old Magic? I suspected something unusual, but I didn't realize it ran so deep."

"Yes," Lady Sunshine confirmed, her expression softening. "From the moment they first laid eyes on each other, the magic recognized their connection. It wove their destinies together in ways even we couldn't foresee."

Lorgar leaned back in his chair, absorbing this revelation. "And there's nothing we can do to alter it?"

Lady Sunshine shook her head gently. "No. Old Magic is beyond our control, and it chose them for a reason. We can only guide them and ensure they understand the responsibility and power their bond brings."

He sighed, his initial resistance giving way to acceptance. "I see. I've noticed how their magic and psionics are amplifying, intertwining in ways that defy logic."

"Precisely," Lady Sunshine agreed. "And while it may be daunting, their union could bring balance to the chaos around us. They complement each other, tempering strengths and weaknesses."

Lorgar nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he accepted the inevitable. "Then we must trust them to handle it wisely and provide the support they need."

"Exactly," Lady Sunshine replied, her confidence in the young duo evident. "Their bond is not something to fear but to nurture. With guidance, they will achieve great things."

The call ended with an understanding between the two mentors. Lorgar sat back, contemplating the future with a renewed sense of purpose and a touch of hope.

The spaceport buzzed with activity, stalls brimming with exotic goods, and the air filled with the scent of spices and freshly baked bread. Jiu, wandered through the bustling streets, taking in the vibrant sights and sounds. She was enjoying a rare moment of peace, away from the responsibilities and pressures of her position, which also meant she was hunting for a snack much like her favorite Codex Keeper.

As she paused to examine a stall displaying intricate jewelry, Codex Keeper Freyjar approached, his confident demeanor unmistakable. He had been persistent in his attempts to win her affections, despite her clear disinterest.

"Jiu," Freyjar greeted with a charming smile, stepping into her personal space. "I was hoping I'd run into you today. Perhaps you'd like to join me for a meal? I know a place with the finest cuisine. All the snacks can't be good for your weight."

Jiu hid her disdain by offering a polite smile. In the past, she would have tolerated Freyjar's disrespect for a free meal but she was past that, stepping back slightly to re-establish her boundaries. "Thank you, Freyjar, but I have other plans."

Freyjar's smile faltered, a hint of frustration crossing his features. "You always seem to have plans. Surely you can spare some time for a fellow Keeper."

Before Jiu could respond, Freyjar's tone shifted, becoming more insistent. "I've heard about your connection with that Keeper Orion, and how you two have been spending more time together. You could do better, you know."

Jiu's expression hardened as her patience wore thin. "My relationships are not your concern, Freyjar. Orion and I have always been close."

Freyjar's eyes darkened, his frustration turning to anger. He took a step closer, his voice lowering. "You deserve someone who can truly appreciate you, Jiu. Someone like me."

Before the situation could escalate further, Orion appeared, having noticed the exchange from a distance. He moved swiftly, positioning himself between Jiu and Freyjar.

"Is there a problem here?" Orion asked, his voice calm but firm, his presence radiating authority.

Freyjar sneered, his bravado faltering under Orion's gaze. Orion was no longer the timid and tepid Codex Keeper he was when he started this one was colder and more ready to take action when need be, "Just a friendly conversation, Orion. No need to interfere."

Orion met Freyjar's gaze evenly, his expression unyielding. "Ward witch Jiu has made her feelings clear. I suggest you respect her wishes."

Freyjar hesitated, glancing between Jiu and Orion. The power dynamic was palpable, and he could feel the weight of Orion's presence pressing down on him.

"Fine," Freyjar muttered, backing away with a forced smile. "No harm meant."

As Freyjar retreated, Othello turned to Minji, his expression softening. "Are you okay?"

Minji nodded gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, Othello. I appreciate it."

He smiled, the tension in his posture easing. "Anytime. I won't let anyone trouble you."

They continued their stroll through the spaceport together, a silent understanding between them. Minji felt a sense of relief and safety with Othello by her side. On the way, Othello picked up bread for him and Minji to eat before reporting to the ship. Once there they went their separate ways. They saw more of each other here and there as they both helped the crew load up the Ship, and fell into old patterns.

Yoohyeon and Leovold also began helping inspired by Orion and Jiu's leadership skills. At times the crew came to Jiu and Orion for guidance with loading and preparations despite not being the captains themselves.

Time of Departure.

"Okay, room 810," Orion said as he opened the door. He had hoped to not be with Sua as his Ward witch for their sector, due to her more aggressive tendencies, and aura. As the door opened he was met by a familiar jet black hair. The box of Choco Pies he was carrying suddenly became lighter, as he smiled seeing Jiu.

"Why if it isn't my favorite little Codex Keeper? Jiu cooed." Orion smiled happy to be paired with her. As he sets the Choco Pies down Jiu squeals.

"I can't believe they let you bring these?" she said,"

"Well, I did make some sacrifices in terms of sleeping clothes but it was worth it as this is probably going to be a rough expedition," Orion says.

Jiu tilted her head confused and asked "Why?"

"Well call it a magic vision," Orion responded, and Jiu chuckled.

The first few days on the ship were quiet as they traveled. Jiu and Orion helped the crew but on the off time kept to themselves.

The other Ward Witches and Codex Keepers wondered what they could be doing. During this time Sua, Siyeon, Ayara, and Leovold were gossiping about what they could be doing.

In the bustling common area of the ship, Sua, Siyeon, Ayara, and Leovold gathered around a table laden with snacks and steaming cups of tea. The hum of activity around them created a lively backdrop for their conversation.

"I swear, I haven’t seen Jiu and Orion at any of the usual hangouts lately," Sua remarked, taking a sip of her tea. "It's like they’ve disappeared every time they're off duty."

Siyeon nodded, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Right? I heard they’ve been spending a lot of time together, just the two of them. Makes you wonder what they're up to."

Ayara leaned in, her curiosity piqued. "I saw them sneaking out of the library the other day, looking all mysterious. Maybe they’re working on some secret project or something."

Leovold chuckled, shaking his head. "Knowing Orion, it’s probably some intense study session. But who knows? They’ve always had that spark between them."

Sua raised an eyebrow, her tone playful. "You think it’s just about studying? I mean, come on. They’ve been practically inseparable since the last mission."

Siyeon joined in, her eyes twinkling with intrigue. "Exactly! I bet there's more going on. Maybe they’re planning something big or…"

Ayara leaned back, considering the possibilities. "Well, whatever it is, they seem focused. It's like they're in their little world when they're together."

Leovold sighed, feigning exasperation. "If only they’d share some of that genius with the rest of us. Or at least tell us what's so interesting that they keep ditching us."

The group erupted in laughter, the mystery surrounding Jiu and Orion adding a playful edge to their camaraderie.

"Let’s just hope they aren’t getting into trouble," Sua quipped, a wink in her voice.

Siyeon shrugged, a smirk on her face. "Or if they are, it’s the fun kind."

Leovold looked at them confused and asked, "What could you mean?"

Sua rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, I bet they are having wild sex. I mean have you seen how close they are at meals? Jiu for sure has that boy on a leash in more ways than one." Sua teased.

Leovold shook his head.

"Pious little Orion, and Patron saint of Motherhood Jiu, engaging in such Lewd acts impossible."

Ayara who sat close to Siyeon paused and said, "Maybe we can ask them tonight during dinner?"

Sua and Siyeon laughed as they nodded.

At this moment, Jiu and Orion were in the gym, practicing their abilities. Jiu was focusing on her psionics, while Orion was honing his magic. The scene mirrored one of their first training sessions back on the Prime Federation planet.

The training grounds were bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the field. The air was filled with the sounds of distant chirping birds and the rhythmic clashing of practice weapons. Orion and Jiu stood opposite each other, their expressions focused yet friendly.

"Ready?" Jiu asked, a playful glint in her eyes as she prepared her stance.

"Always," Orion replied with a confident nod, raising his arms in preparation. Memories flowed between them as the scene shifted between the past and the present.

In the present, Jiu used her psionics to create a pillar of fire to absorb Orion's fire arrows. As they slung magic at each other, the scene transitioned to the past.

In the past, they began with Orion's psionics flaring to life. A shimmering aura enveloped him, fortifying his defenses. His focus was clear: to create impenetrable barriers and arm himself with unyielding strength. A translucent shield materialized before him, crackling with energy, and the ground beneath his feet hardened as if to anchor him in place.

Jiu watched with admiration, impressed by Orion's ability to fortify and protect. "You like your shields, don't you?" she teased, launching a spell of her own.

Her hands moved gracefully through the air, weaving intricate patterns that summoned a swirling vortex of colorful magic. The spell expanded rapidly, its brilliant hues reflecting her preference for big, expressive displays of power. Sparks danced around her, and the energy surged toward Orion with vibrant intensity.

Shifting back to the present, Orion created four lightning chains that Jiu used her psionic armament to absorb. She smiled and said, "I know all your tricks, magic man."

"Not all. I've been working on something secret you don't even know," Orion replied.

As he spoke, he combined his psionics and magic into his longsword, which he had crafted after defeating the dragon Bayle from its skeleton. He dodged Jiu's psionic fist before swinging his mighty blade. A ripple of magic and psionics arced off his blade and headed straight for her. Jiu watched the teal tide race toward her in awe. She always thought Orion would make a great ward witch, and to see her prediction proven amazed her.

Back in the past, Orion braced himself, his shield absorbing the impact of Jiu's spell. The ground beneath him remained firm, his fortification psionics holding strong. "And you never hold back, do you?" he countered with a grin, lowering his shield.

Jiu laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Why hold back when you can make a statement?"

Their training session continued as a harmonious blend of contrasting styles. Orion's fortification and armament psionics emphasized control and resilience, while Jiu's spells were a testament to her creativity and flair. They moved in sync, a testament to their years of friendship and understanding.

In the present, Jiu watched as, instead of being attacked by Orion's wave, the wave lifted her and spun her around in a dance of color. She smiled, realizing the attack was non-lethal.

"You like it?" Orion asked as he approached her as she was brought down.

"It can determine friend or foe. It annihilates foes but protects friends. I call it Masamune," Orion explained, and Jiu smiled.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the field, they paused to catch their breath. Orion lowered his shield, the energy dissipating, and Jiu let her spell fade away, the colors lingering in the air like a fading rainbow.

Unbeknownst to them, Freyjar watched with a dulled fury.

"Orion can use magic, and Jiu can use psionics?" he mulled over. His anger flared. "No, I can use this to my advantage. I just have to get crafty." Freyjar thought to himself as he saw his favorite tool approaching.

"Hey Yoohyeon, long time no see," he said.

At dinner, a sweaty Orion and Jiu entered the mess hall to hoots and hollers from their friends and the crew.

"You two look messy. Were you having fun?" Sua asked.

"Um, Orion and I were training," Jiu explained, confused.

Sua and Siyeon sighed before leaving with Ayara and Leovold.

"That was so weird, huh?" Jiu said.

Orion nodded, replying, "Yeah, they seemed disappointed."

Yoohyeon and Leito arrived a few moments later.

"Oh, Orion and Jiu, just the two I wanted to see," Leito said happily.

Orion and Jiu looked up at the two.

"Oh, you two look so cute together," Jiu teased to Yoohyeon and Leito.

Yoohyeon and Leito blushed as they sat down.

"Jiu, stop, you're embarrassing them. What's up, Leito?"

"Um, well, we are entering the pirate territory and—" Before he could finish his sentence, the ship was hit by space warp harpoons.

"Dear Federation members, you are being boarded by the legendary pirate Gonti. Please do not resist or you will be killed. Unless your names are Orion the Pirate Slayer and Jiu the Fel-Handed. You will be killed." A voice announced as a group of pirates entered the mess hall. Jiu and Orion looked at each other before getting up. Jiu threw her hand up, and Arane weave swept up the four pirates. Orion took their stunners from them and activated his psionics.

"May my enemies' weapons fall before my feet and I claim victory," Orion said as runes surrounded his eyes, casting the spell Future Sight.

Jiu smiled as they began walking to the helm. Orion saw the first pirate coming around the corner in three... two... one. He shot the pirate with the stunner and stepped over the unconscious body before continuing his walk with Jiu.

Jiu shot the next pirate with a witch bolt, leaving another pirate suspended in her arcane weave. This pattern continued as they fought their way to the front, where Gonti awaited.

When they arrived, Jiu and Orion unleashed a combination psionic spell called Retrieval. They directed it at the pirate leader, and all of his crew were deposited back on their ship, unconscious.

The captain turned to the Ward Witch and Codex Keeper, surprised before the duo left without a word.

Back in their quarters, Jiu hopped into Orion's bed. She felt the Eldorian's heart speed up and smiled as she hugged him tight.

"what's going on you're more clingy than normal today?" Orion asked.

Jiu smiled and said, "What I can't want to be close to my best friend?" Jiu's tone held an unspoken desire that permeated the air between them.

"Okay, I'll bite," Orion said as he closed his book to face her. Jiu kissed his nose with a smile. He looked at her confused before kissing her back. The emotions and auras mix once more. However this time there were no obstacles to their hearts.

Jiu ripped off Orion's shirt. Her hands found purchase roaming his torso. Her hunger was no longer as she ripped open her top.

"Touch me Othello," Jiu said

"Okay Minji," Othello said as his hands ran over her body finding a home on her firm ass. As their auras clashed in their fervor kissed and stripped each other. When the gaze cleared they were both naked and their eyes locked. Othello lifted Minji and brought her down forcibly on his rod. Minji moaned she’s not tight per se but she is snug. He pussy’s viscous walls slosh over Orion’s walls as she sheathes him. Unable to control either of their bodies they both cum relentlessly. After their bodies calm down Minji lies next to Othello and says,

“Now we’re officially together.” Othello smiles and kisses her again.

While the couple consummated their relationship

Freyjar sat alone in his lair, the dim light from the holographic displays casting eerie shadows on his face. His eyes narrowed as he scrolled through information about Orion and Jiu, their recent activities and abilities prominently featured.

"Orion and Jiu," Freyjar muttered to himself, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Powerful, skilled, and, most importantly, vulnerable."

He tapped a few commands on the console, bringing up a detailed map of their ship’s route. His gaze shifted to a list of potential targets and weaknesses he had compiled.

"Let’s see how they handle a little... pressure," he mused, his fingers hovering over a set of coordinates. "A well-timed attack could unsettle them. But first, I need a distraction."

Freyjar's mind raced with possibilities. He could use his influence to incite internal conflict among the crew, creating discord and confusion. He could also set up a series of traps or misinformation to mislead Orion and Jiu.

"Yes," he said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "I'll play on their fears and insecurities. And when they’re at their most vulnerable, I’ll strike."

He reached for a communicator, dialing a number with practiced ease. "It’s time to put the plan into action. Make sure the distractions are in place and the intel is accurate. We need them off balance and unprepared."

As he spoke, Freyjar’s eyes gleamed with malevolent intent. The pieces of his plan were falling into place, and he was eager to see the chaos that would ensue.

With the preparations underway, Freyjar leaned back in his chair, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips. "Let the games begin."

Minji’s dream started normally. The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the garden, where Minji and Othello sat on a stone bench, enjoying a rare moment of leisure. The gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze created a serene backdrop as they chatted and laughed, temporarily free from their duties.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a mysterious figure. A witch with raven-black hair and piercing eyes approached them, her dark robes flowing like shadows in the wind. There was an air of mystery about her as if she had stepped out of a different time and place.

“Greetings, Minji and Othello,” the witch said, her voice smooth and enigmatic. “I am Morrigan, a seer. I have a message for you, a vision that concerns your future.”

Othello raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Minji. They were both intrigued but wary. “What kind of vision?” he asked cautiously.

Morrigan’s eyes seemed to see beyond the present moment, gazing into some unseen realm. “I see an expedition, one that will test your bonds and challenge your strengths. Your union, whether of spirit or something more, will change the world in ways you cannot yet comprehend.”

Minji tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “Our union? What do you mean by that?”

The witch smiled cryptically. “Your paths are intertwined. Together, you have the power to alter destinies and forge a new future. But be wary, for such power can attract both allies and adversaries.”

Othello chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. “Well, that’s quite a prophecy. But we’re just friends enjoying a day off.”

Morrigan’s expression softened, though her eyes remained intense. “Perhaps. But do not underestimate the strength of friendship and the power of shared goals.”

With that, Morrigan turned and disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Minji and Othello to ponder her words. A brief silence fell between them, broken only by the distant call of a bird.

Minji shrugged, brushing off the encounter. “That was… interesting. But I think she might be reading too much into things.”

Othello nodded in agreement, though the witch’s words lingered in his mind. “Yeah, probably just a vague prophecy. Still, it does make you think.”

They resumed their conversation, trying to recapture the light-heartedness of earlier. But despite their dismissal, the shadow of Morrigan’s vision lingered, hinting at the adventures and challenges that awaited them on the horizon.

The next day Minji woke up from the same nightmare she’d been having for the past week except she was wrapped in Othello’s arms her rapid shaking woke him up and groggily he summoned Abyssal Splitter (the longsword from earlier). Minji laughed watching this. She set his arms down and said,

“Don’t worry I just had a nightmare” Minji explained. Othello nodded and held Minji tight. She smiled feeling safe and comfortable in his embrace.

Nearing the end of the expedition. Orion and Jiu were feeling relaxed and relieved at how quiet it had been. The quiet couldn’t last though.

Their ship entered Ventus and Terran space where they received the following message.

“Dear federation this is Terra and Ventus. We have been informed that the bioweapons Jiu and Orion. We will not be intimidated and to show this we will blow up any ships that try to dock in our ports. So turn around, and leave the sector.”

The command room of the ship was tense, the air thick with the weight of recent threats. The captain replayed the message to everyone, they, had issued an ultimatum that left the crew on edge.

The ship’s captain, a seasoned veteran with a stern demeanor, sat at the head of the table, flanked by Jiu and Orion. The rest of the crew, the other codex keepers and ward witches, including Freyjar, Yoohyeon, and a few other key members, filled the seats around them.

“We can’t just ignore Terra and Ventus,” the captain said, drumming his fingers on the table. “They have the authority and the means to make our lives very difficult.”

Jiu leaned forward, her expression resolute. “We need to stand our ground. They’re trying to intimidate us, but we can’t let them bully us into submission.”

Orion nodded in agreement. “We’ve faced worse odds before. Together, we can handle whatever they throw at us.”

Freyjar cleared his throat, drawing the room’s attention. “There is one way to appease them and avoid further conflict,” he suggested, his tone careful but insidious. “We could turn in Jiu and Orion as a show of good faith.”

The room erupted into shocked murmurs and protests. Yoohyeon shot Freyjar a withering glare, while Orion and Jiu exchanged a glance of disbelief.

“Explain yourself, Freyjar,” the captain demanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Freyjar’s eyes gleamed with a mix of triumph and malice. “Jiu and Orion are hiding something significant. They can both use psionics and magic—a dangerous combination that Terra and Ventus would be very interested in.”

The revelation hit the crew like a thunderclap. Gasps of astonishment and disbelief echoed around the room. Some crew members exchanged worried glances, while others stared at Jiu and Orion in newfound fear.

Jiu remained calm, though her eyes burned with defiance. “Yes, we can use both. But that doesn’t make us a threat. We’ve been using our abilities to protect and serve this ship.”

Orion stepped forward, his presence commanding respect. “We’ve always been transparent with those who needed to know. Freyjar’s suggestion is a betrayal, pure and simple.”

The captain looked between Jiu and Orion, then at the rest of the crew. “We’re a team. We don’t turn on each other. Not now, not ever.”

Freyjar, sensing the room’s hostility, tried to backtrack. “I only meant to protect the crew—”

“By selling our friends out?” Yoohyeon interrupted, her voice sharp with indignation. “You’re the one putting us all in danger.”

The room descended into chaos once more, accusations flying and alliances being questioned. Amidst the uproar, Jiu and Orion stood firm, their bond and resolve unshaken by Freyjar’s treachery.

As the captain restored order, he made a decision. “We’ll deal with Terra and Ventus on our terms. And we’ll do it together. Anyone who can’t support that is free to leave this ship.”

No one left, “now Jiu and Orion what do we do now?” The captain asked deferring to the ward witch and her Codex Keeper.

“We finish the mission,” Orion and Jiu said at the same time.

“But how?” Leito said worriedly.

“Jiu and I will use our powers to make a barrier around the ship and fly us into safety you all will have to negotiate.”

Leito Yoohyeon Sua, and Leovold nod. The meeting is fully adjourned and Orion finds Freyjar.

“Why would you do this?”

Freyjar looks startled “Why would I do what Orion?”

“Why would you suggest Jiu and I turn ourselves in you know how the core planets don’t like us.”

“Well, I figured it was the best course of action since you both are so virtuous and figured you would do the right thing.”

“I can’t believe you Freyjar after all this time you haven’t learned anything,” Orion spoke annoyed and tired before leaving. Freyjar felt victorious because no matter what happened they were going to either be excommunicated or executed leaving the power line straight for him.

The night Before flying into The no-fly zone Orion and Jiu found themselves alone.

Othello and Minji stared at each other for some time before Minji said, “You and I us against the world again.” Othello laughed before saying

“As if destined by fate.”

“You know when I met you after you graduated you looked so different I couldn’t recognize you. The scar across your nose the halo around your temple. It all gave off holy warrior of God and less Codex keeper.” Minji explained

“I wasn’t better either especially since you were with Freyjar at the time. The long hair and the dark vibe were very different from the Minji I met all those years ago.”

“Yeah it went something like”

The library was a haven of silence, its towering shelves filled with dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting patterns on the worn wooden floors. Minji sat across from Othello at a large oak table, her fingers drumming lightly on the open book before her.

Othello was deeply engrossed in his reading, his eyes scanning the pages with intense focus. Minji, on the other hand, was struggling to maintain her concentration. She sighed, closing her book with a soft thud.

“Othello,” Minji whispered, trying not to disturb the library’s serene atmosphere. “I’m getting bored. Let’s go get food.”

Othello looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He could never resist Minji’s playful charm. “Alright,” he agreed, marking his place before closing his book. “But only if you promise we’ll come back and finish studying later.”

Minji grinned, already gathering her things. “Deal!”

They left the library, stepping out into the bustling streets. The city was alive with activity, vendors calling out to passersby, and the air filled with the scent of street food. As they wandered in search of a meal, their easy laughter echoed through the alleyways.

Their journey took an unexpected turn when they stumbled upon a suspicious scene: a group of men loading unconscious figures into the back of a van. Minji and Othello exchanged a glance, their instincts kicking in.

“We can’t just ignore this,” Othello said, his voice low but resolute.

Minji nodded, her expression serious. “Let’s stop them.”

Together, they sprang into action. Minji summoned a swirling mass of magic, her power crackling with intensity. Othello activated his psionics, a shimmering aura enveloping him as he moved. Their combined abilities created a force of immense power, ripping through the alley with explosive energy.

In the chaos, the traffickers were subdued, but the destruction was immense. The building around them trembled and collapsed, reduced to rubble in the aftermath of their intervention.

As the dust settled, their mentors arrived, faces etched with disbelief and disapproval. The reprimand was swift and stern, their mentors’ voices echoing in the ruins of what had once been an apartment complex.

“You acted recklessly,” Lady Sunshine, Minji’s mentor, scolded, her tone sharp with disappointment. “The damage you’ve caused is unacceptable.”

Lorgar, Othello’s mentor, nodded in agreement. “You need to understand the consequences of wielding such power.”

Othello defended himself by saying, “They were trafficking people I couldn’t stand idly by.”

“Dammit Othello. You can’t go around stopping every bad thing someone does.”

Othello’s opinion of Lorgar and the world changed with that statement. He walked over to Minji afterward and Lady Sunshine stood in front of him.

“You foolish child. You could have killed all these people in pursuit of some Childish heroics.”

Her words struck a nerve and Othello responded,

“Well maybe if people did their job I wouldn’t have to play the hero. Maybe if you weren’t all so afraid these people wouldn’t exist,” Lady Sunshine shot a spell at the petulant child only to react in surprise when it bounced off. Lady Sunshine’s eyes narrowed as she stared at the defiant boy. Before saying,

“Come Minji we have better things to be doing than staying with this riff-raff”

Minji and Othello exchanged a guilty look, realizing the severity of their actions. Though they had stopped the traffickers, the cost had been too high, and that was the last time they saw each other for almost four years until one and a half years ago, but now no artificial machinations would separate the lovers again.

Minji smiled and then kissed. Then kissed him again.

“Babe I need you,” Minji said before taking off her top. Her petite breasts were white in the present moonlight. Minji smiled as Othello took one into his mouth as she ground on his crotch.

She worked to undo both of their pants while Othello kissed and sucked on her upper body. Leaving Minji breathless and aroused.

When both were properly disrobed Minji sat on Othello’s lap before beginning to ride him. Her snug walls happily embraced his rod as Othello began to chant Minji’s name. Minji moaned happily as she took him in and out of her. The couple caught up in their pleasure didn’t keep track of their impending release until it was too late, and as both came violently in the other a wave of contentment washed over them. They lay in bed as their contentment led both to a peaceful rest.

I can tell you that their plan worked and it was a huge feat of magical and psionic prowess. I could tell you that their auras were so massive and so impressive that watching them achieve another impressive feat of protecting a voyager ship from space rail fire and atomic weapons was amazing and awe-inspiring but you’ve seen and read about how much stronger they are than everyone else. So I’m going to end on their actual last impressive feat.

When the ship arrived back in Oretia (the prime Federation planet) the couple were called into an impeachment. Their powers had been deemed too dangerous and so they must be split up again. When challenged by others Codex Orion and Ward Witch Jiu warped themselves to Paradiso. Normally this would take at least 5 of both but as I previously stated they were just that powerful. That strong and much better than their contemporaries. When they were found weeks later they had three words for their respective orders.

“We are retired” Lorgar, Lady Sunshine, Yoohyeon, Leito. Smiled at them as they sat on the beach living in peace finally able to enjoy the food they wanted when they wanted. They even invited their friends and family over for dinner, while watching the sunset.

[actual-changeling]

It was actually rather hard to decide how to begin this meta post because there are essentially going to be two main parts: why Crowley does not actually avoid/run from his problems and why "going off" is not a bad thing regardless.

Then I wrote the first part and realised this is now 2.5k words long, so uhhhh I will grant part 2 its own post.

With that, welcome back to Alex's today-not-unhinged meta corner!

I am going to approach this topic from a psychological angle, which a lot of people have already done, but without explicitly mentioning it or going into depth. All my information comes from personal experience, research, my therapist, and my psychiatrist, just so you know I am not making shit up. I actually dug up some resources my therapist gave me a while ago.

Generally, there are four different fear/survival responses: fight, flight, freeze, and fawn. Most people have probably heard about fight and flight, since those two are usually the only ones that are mentioned/taught, so I will stick to explaining the other two.

"Fawning" refers to actively being submissive and subdued, both physically and emotionally. The goal is to appear non-threatening and to calm whoever is causing the fear response in the first place. It shows up as being overly agreeable, not having thoughts/opinions of your own and ignoring them if you do, your body language changing (e.g., making yourself smaller, taking up less space), and generally attempting to 'keep the peace' or reinstate it.

"Freezing" is pretty much exactly what it says on the tin—you freeze. It means slipping into a dissociative state, which disconnects you from your body, your emotions/mind, and/or the outside world. Usually, people stop being able to talk well or at all, they do not move, and if they do, it is on autopilot; you do not fight or flee, you simply exist until what is causing the fear response is over.

While dissociating, your brain is unable to form full memories—and depending on how heavily you are dissociating, it does not form any memories at all. 

Freezing as a response happens when fight, flight, and fawn aren't possible anymore, e.g., a child who has no internal mechanisms to deal with large amounts of fear because it's a child, so the only way to escape the pain and aggressor is by fleeing into your mind and shutting down.

Why am I telling you all this? Because most people tend to have one or two survival responses that dominate/they usually fall back on, and the same goes for Aziraphale and Crowley.

When faced with an outside problem and a lot of stress, Aziraphale's first instinct is to fawn, to placate the person, to diffuse the situation, to make sure everyone is agreeing, or, at the very least, submitting to authority figures or aggressors. It is what heaven teaches them—stick to the rules, don't ask questions, do what you are told. If fawning involves lying, he will do so, here the need for safety is stronger than his desire to be truthful and stick to his morals.

Unfortunately, the fact that this is his primary fear response is also the reason behind his extreme cognitive dissonance. How can you stick to the rules when you do not know what the rules ARE? So he is stuck trying to figure out what is "good" and what is "bad" so he can be a good angel and avoid doing anything that might be seen as bad or disobedient.

His secondary response to stress or fear is to fight—once it's clear that fawning won't work, he can and will switch over to being more direct and aggressive/less submissive. We see that happening when he gets discorporated in season 1 and needs to get back to earth, at the airbase, or when the bookshop gets attacked.

If I were to ask you what you think Crowley's primary fear response is, how would you respond?

Well, if you said "flight"—you're wrong, and I will explain why.

Flight is his secondary fear response, it is what he falls back on in absolute emergencies when everything is doomed and there's nothing he can do anymore.

Before that, though, he fights.

Even as an angel, he was already questioning the system, he was ready to go and tell God she was doing a terrible job, that her ideas were bad, that he wants to keep his stars and the universe— six thousand years are nothing! If you actively oppose existing rules and defy people's authority over you, fighting is the only option you have unless you plan on giving up or the response becomes too much to deal with.

Fear itself happens when you or someone/something you love is being threatened (whether that threat is real or simply perceived as such doesn't matter), plus there are a large number of more irrational fears.

Crowley's creations were threatened -> He goes against the rules, he wants to fight for them.

On the walls of Eden, he questions God and talks to an angel, his hereditary enemy, once again defying the rules, questioning them.

Job and his children were threatened -> He goes against orders to try and save them.

There is good reason to believe he went against God by saving some of the children from the flood.

He showed Jesus the kingdoms of the world—do we really think that was based on orders? No, it was once again Crowley not playing by the rules.

Wessex? He proposes the Arrangement, which is one gigantic "fuck you" in his fight against celestial rules. Everything after that goes back to Crowley knowing that their jobs suck and that they can cheat, fight the system by working together. In 1827, it gets him pulled to hell and punished, and yet he does not stop; he keeps fighting.

Crowley is the one who immediately tries to stop the apocalypse. Aziraphale needs to be talked into it, needs to be convinced with selfish reasons and personal pleasure.

The reason why both heaven and hell absolutely loathe him is not because he is a runner; it's because he constantly and consistently defies them. He fights.

In season two, he immediately tries to deal with the Gabriel problem while Aziraphale is standing behind him and saying "I don't know" to all of his questions. Taking him somewhere so they can figure shit out in peace is not 'running'—it's smart. Sure, it's far from ideal, but we see what keeping him in the bookshop brought them, don't we? The hiding miracle is what tipped heaven and hell off in the first place.

Aziraphale goes to Edinburgh based on a hunch, but once again—did that help? Did his journalist roleplay trip actually provide vital information that solved a single puzzle piece of that mess? No. Finding out that Gabriel was at that pub with some mystery person was a nice fact to know, but that's it.

During the ball, Crowley is scared, vigilant, prowling around the shop, checking windows, telling Aziraphale to "stop this charade" so they can figure out what to do. Aziraphale, in that moment, was already convinced that sticking to the rules would save them—a heavenly embassy on a technicality, surely the group of fallen angels who got booted due to not following heaven's rules will respect that.

Crowley goes to heaven, which is once again him actively looking for a solution, while Aziraphale also falls back on fighting because fawning is not going to do shit.

There are three times during which Crowley suggests fleeing—which is his secondary fear response—but those are exceptions. Let's have a look at them.

The first one is at the bandstand, the evening before the Apocalypse, and since Aziraphale is lying to him, the situation seems hopeless to him. Yet he is still having his 'agents' look for him, is still fighting.

Do you know why he even suggests running? He is about to leave when Aziraphale calls him back with "there isn't anywhere to go," and now allow me to insert the following passage from the scriptbook.

Crowley looks back. He looks at Aziraphale. Above them, a beautiful starry sky. And Crowley softens.

"Big universe. Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we could go off together."

The sentence in the show is slightly different, but they have one thing in common: If.

IF the world ends, we can still leave and be together. IF.

Crowley is NOT saying "let's leave", he is presenting Aziraphale with a contingency plan in case stopping the Apocalypse does not work. He is NOT running, he isn't even SUGGESTING to run.

It's a "if the world ends, we can be together. We don't need to be with hell or heaven; we can be in the stars," because remember what the end of the world would mean? Eternal torture for Crowley while Aziraphale bores himself to death in heaven.

The next time he suggests it again—when he stops Aziraphale on the street—several things have happened.

First, he did not leave. If he truly wanted to flee, he would have by now, but he didn't. He sits in a cinema waiting for the end: "Out of time. Out of hope," as Neil puts it. Then Hastur and Ligur show up on screen and tell him, 'You're dead meat, Crowley. You're bloody history. […] We're coming to collect you'.

We all know that means "eternal torture in hell," but if you're not convinced for some reason, have another snippet from the script book that did not make it into the show.

Dagon is speaking from the Bentley's radio while he drives towards the bookshop, saying that something has gone wrong and they're sure he has a 'perfectly reasonable explanation' for it. Once he gets out of the car, however, Dagon still keeps going and says the following:.

"Your explanation, and the circumstances that will accompany it, will provide a source of entertainment for all the damned of hell, Crowley. Because no matter what agonies the damned are suffering, Crowley, you will have it worse."

Crowley already knows that. He has been punished by them before, heard, seen, lived torture, there is no doubt as to what will happen should they catch him. So he does what any person with a single fucking brain cell would do—he tries to get his loved one and FLEE.

Flight is the best response in this situation, and if you need me to explain why, then honestly, I cannot help you anymore. I won't go into detail about Aziraphale's response, but, tl;dr, it was shitty and incredibly hurtful, go figure.

Now, let's get to situation number 3, which is his speech during the final fifteen. We do not have an official script for that, but someone did make transcriptions for all episodes; you can find them here. Additionally, I will copy some of what I already said in a different meta post.

Crowley, stuck in his trauma-induced hypervigilance and paranoia, suggests putting as much distance between them and the problem as possible. I think it is interesting that in ep1 he wants to get Gabriel away from them, while at the end of the season, he is ready to get them away from the problem.

So far, I have never seen anyone mention that change! And it’s important! The entire season, it is hammered into our heads how much they love being on earth. It is THEIR bookshop and THEIR car and THEIR life.

Crowley wants to protect that home, and Gabriel is a threat to it, a threat to both of them, their life, the bookshop—everything. He does not want to leave, he wants his peace and angel in one place.

Yet by allowing Gabriel to stay, Aziraphale destroyed the sense of comfort and safety Crowley had slowly developed over the last few decades. Heaven nipping down every now and then to check in with Aziraphale is very different from him sheltering the Supreme Archangel who is running from ‘something terrible’ without even asking if he’s alright with that.

Aziraphale calls it their bookshop, but he fundamentally still sees it as his space to govern and Crowley as a guest; he even calls it a 'heavenly embassy'.

After another horrible week and having his previously safe space violated by several different times and beings, Crowley is back to where he was before—without a home. That fragile existence broke apart, so he is standing in the heap of shards and telling Aziraphale 'I don’t feel safe here anymore, let’s leave’.

He lost his safe space, but he still has his safe person, his best and only friend, the person he loves. I doubt he cares where exactly they go as long as they’re together and it’s safe.

Returning to heaven—it is the one place Crowley cannot follow him to. It’s literally the worst option, he can’t go back, he won’t go back. So he invokes the bookshop again, if you don’t want to stay for me, stay for the bookshop, your books, your corner of existence that I thought we had carved out for ourselves.

There is a common error that people make regarding the timeline, which is assuming that during this conversation they are already aware of the impending apocalypse—but they aren't. Aziraphale himself has no clue, and while Crowley saw the conversation and trial, he does NOT know when it will happen. For all he knows, it could be tomorrow, could be in a thousand years, and, even if he had been given a date, I doubt they laid out all the details and how to stop it.

Considering that his original plan was "get drunk at the Ritz and then have us time," I don't think he knew literally anything about how or when to stop it. So no, Crowley does NOT suggest running away from earth and leaving it to die.

All he wants is some bloody peace and quiet where no demons, angels, or power-hungry floating heads can interrupt them. A space that is safe and theirs. There are also zero mentions of where he wants them to go; he is not talking about the stars or the universe. He wants to get away from where they currently are because heaven and hell show up uninvited whenever they please.

If your boss and ex-boss constantly kicked down your front door and stated their wish to torture you, would you stay there or would you move? Yeah.

This post got very long, but it was long overdue.

I am tired of seeing people call Crowley a callous coward who always runs away from his problems when he is the literal opposite. You take three sentences said under exceptional circumstances and apply them to Crowley as a whole, when it is nothing but his last ditch effort to keep himself and Aziraphale safe.

One last thing: If you come onto my post and start aggressively arguing about this, I will block you. Genuine discussions and questions are always welcome, being a dick is not, and I also simply cannot handle some of the rhetoric people in this fandom perpetuate because it's very triggering.

Make your own post, don't do it on mine.

[forest-hashira]

2 Be Loved

this has sat in my drafts for... idk exactly how long, a month at least, because i was trying to decide if i even wanted to post it here. i wrote this for myself when i was Going Through It with my depression. now that i've sat on it a while, and i've generally been doing better, i've decided it's time to go ahead and share this. i hope you all enjoy it, and that it brings you some level of comfort or reassurance if you need it 💜

read on ao3 here | wc: ~2.4k | cw: gender neutral reader, plus size reader, mental health issues (reader is in a depressive episode), emotional hurt/comfort, some fluff at the end, really this is very self ship coded

You’d spent practically the whole day in bed. And the day before that, and the day before that, and probably the day before that, too. You’d lost count, honestly; all the days bleeding together and blurring in the fog of your mind. 

This was far from the first time this had happened, and you knew it would also be far from the last. Your emotional state had been a rollercoaster for most of your life, and had only become more volatile in the last few years. You would be fine, until you suddenly realized you were decidedly not fine, with some realizations being more gentle than others.

Like this time, for example. You hadn’t suddenly buckled under the weight of the world, but instead had woken up one morning and felt paralyzed; even just the idea of getting out of bed, for any reason, felt insurmountable. So you simply… didn’t. You stayed in bed and slept between episodes of your favorite TV show, grasping for anything that might stop you from sinking further into the depths of your depression. 

Satoru had been as patient as ever, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and whispering a little “I love you,” before he’d left for work. He knew you struggled this way sometimes, and had never been anything but supportive and loving. Suguru had called in “sick”, opting to spend the day taking care of you, which mostly consisted of slipping in and out of sleep all day and occasionally bringing a snack from the kitchen. Satoru had joined you back in bed as soon as he got home from work, effectively squishing you between himself and Suguru, where you were helpless to do anything but let them love you.

It had reduced you to tears, shoulders shaking as ugly, half choked sobs tore themselves from your chest. They had let you cry, not rushing to try and quiet you as they might have done when they were younger; they let you get it out of your system, only stepping in to comfort you when you started to speak. 

“I’m sorry,” you’d cried, eyes shut tight as you tried to avoid their gaze. “I’m sorry I’m…” you’d struggled for words then, losing them between your hiccuping sobs and the darkness that clouded your mind. 

“I’m too much,” you’d come up with eventually. “My emotions are too messy, and my mind doesn’t work right… I feel like all I do is cause problems for both of you. Like all I do is hold you back and drag you down.”

You hadn’t seen the look they’d exchanged, the pain that pinched their features, but you had felt the way they pressed in closer, as if they could crush the depression out of you. 

“You are not too much,” Satoru had murmured, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze, his cerulean eyes sparkling in the low light from the lamp on your bedside table. “You could never be too much, not to me – to us.” His thumb brushed lightly along your cheekbone, delicately wiping the tears from your skin even as they were replaced with more. “We love you so much, y’know? I love you so much. Taking care of you is not a chore, or a burden.”

You’d shaken your head, unable to believe his words. “You can’t possibly mean that.”

“But we do,” Suguru had been the one to speak that time. “You mean it when you tell me the same thing when I’m depressed, right?”

“Of course I do.” There wasn’t any hesitation as the words left your lips. “Taking care of you is a privilege.”

“Then why can’t you believe we feel the same way about taking care of you?”

His words had left you reeling, so much so that you almost didn’t hear Suguru when he continued. 

“Satoru’s right, angel. I love you. We adore you, and we want to take care of you. Always.”

As Suguru had hugged you tighter with one arm and pressed gentle kisses to your shoulder, he’d placed his other hand on your white haired lover’s hip, keeping him as close as possible. Satoru had been eager to oblige, snuggling into you as much as possible. He’d brushed your hair from your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead, one hand cradling your face while the other reached across you to settle on Suguru’s hip. They had effectively caged you in, both with their bodies and with their love. It had shattered you, reduced you to tears again, but they hadn’t minded; they were there to hold you together, to pick up the pieces when you couldn’t do it alone. 

Through some unspoken agreement, your boys switched places the next day; Suguru had gone into work while Satoru had called out “sick” to take care of you. They did their best not to leave you alone for too long whenever they could help it, but they could only get away with calling out sick when everyone knew the two of them were perfectly healthy; when the higher ups knew that you were the one keeping the two special grades and teachers from fully doing their jobs.

A few days passed with your lovers taking turns staying home with you, until one day they both called out to stay home, though you didn’t realize that at first, since Suguru was quick to return to you in bed, holding you close as you drifted off again, faintly away of the sound of the front door closing and locking before you were fully asleep. 

When you woke up again, the first thing you were aware of was the fact that you were alone in bed. At almost the same moment, though, you heard music coming from what you guessed what the kitchen, though you couldn’t quite tell, since the bedroom door was shut; wherever it was coming from, it was definitely upbeat pop music, so you knew for certain Satoru was the one who had turned it on.

With no small amount of effort, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes for a moment and yawning before you crawled off the bed on Satoru’s side. You shuffled over to the dresser then, opening drawers and grabbing clothes pretty much at random. You wound up in a black sweatshirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants, both of which were at least two sizes too big for you, which even your fuzzy brain knew meant they weren’t actually your clothes; they belonged to your two giants of lovers.

Once you were dressed, you turned back to the nightstand, grabbing one of Suguru’s hair ties to pull your hair out of your face with, and, after a deep breath, you decided to brave the kitchen.

Opening the door to the bedroom allowed you to fully hear the music that was playing, and you were a little surprised to realize it was in English, rather than Japanese. Satoru liked to listen to anything that was happy and upbeat enough, but he – understandably – had a bit of a preference for J pop music. 

Still a little surprised by the music choice and a little foggy from sleep, you make your way to the kitchen in a bit of a daze. Both Satoru and Suguru were in the kitchen: Suguru at the counter, mixing something in the stand mixer, while Satoru danced around to the music, occasionally trying to steal a bit of whatever Suguru had in the mixing bowl, and being effectively swatted away every time. You stood in the doorway for a few moments in silence, just watching them in utter adoration.

Eventually, though, Satoru noticed you, and he got a bright grin on his face as he raced over to you. “You got out of bed!” he gushed, wrapping you up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m so proud of you, mochi,” he murmured against your scalp, and something about the nickname in combination with the praise made you feel like you were going to melt into a puddle right then and there. 

Just as suddenly as he had engulfed you in a hug, the white haired sorcerer was releasing you, lunging for where he’d left his phone on the counter by the bluetooth speaker he was using for the music. You watched curiously as he opened his playlist, hastily skipping through a handful of songs before he got to the one he was apparently looking for. Seeming pleased with himself, he made sure the song was playing, turned the volume up a little bit, then turned back to you with that sparkling grin of his. 

You blinked in surprise when you heard the singer’s voice, and you looked up at him with a look of complete bafflement. “I didn’t know you listened to Lizzo.”

He sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. “No, baby, you gotta listen to the lyrics!” he insisted, taking your hands and doing a very small little dance with you right there in the doorway. 

Though part of you wanted to argue, you had never been good at resisting your energetic lover, and this time was no exception. Before you even nodded, Satoru already knew you’d given in to him, and he pulled you a bit closer to himself as he started singing along with the lyrics. And not quietly, either: he sang them with all the enthusiasm in his body, and though you hated to admit it, it was contagious, even in your depressed state.

By the end of the first verse, you were smiling, a small laugh escaping you at your lover’s almost puppyish behavior. When the chorus came around, you started singing along as well, and you noticed belatedly that Satoru was singing the lines of the background singers, rather than the main chorus, like you were. 

“Am I ready?”

“You deserve it now.”

“‘Cause I want it!”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Am I ready?”

“You gon’ figure it out.”

“To be loved, to be loved.”

Your singing faltered then, and you stared up at Satoru for a moment, suddenly realizing why he’d picked this song to serenade you with. He stopped singing as well, smiling gently down at you as he watched you fit the puzzle pieces together in your mind.

“We’ve always been ready to love you.”

The sound of Suguru’s voice from behind you caused you to startle a bit, but you looked up at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Are you ready to let us love you again?” His tone held no resentment, no bitterness, only gentle adoration, and you were certain that if Satoru didn’t still have a solid grip on your hands, you would have sunk to your knees with the overwhelming realization of how much these two men adored you, despite how much your mind sometimes tried to convince you they shouldn’t.

Unable to find your voice, you nodded, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill down your cheeks. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut for a moment as Suguru leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, but just a few seconds later, Satoru was tugging you back into his space, spinning you around so your back was to his chest. The song was still playing and he was apparently still determined to get you to dance with him.

Suguru laughed softly at his lover’s antics, shaking his head slightly at Satoru and offering you a slight shrug when you looked up at him for some sort of explanation.

Now the subject of Satoru’s whims, you allowed him to dance around the kitchen with you in his arms, still singing along with the song, though now his volume was lower, as he sang the words down at you. You smiled, allowing yourself to get lost in the warmth of his love, even if his fingers were cold where they wrapped around your own. 

“He call me Melly, he squeeze my belly.”

Your eyes flew open as Satoru sang the words, his chilly hands coming down to squeeze at the soft flesh of your stomach, the touch pulling a rather undignified squeak from your lips, but he just continued to beam down at you. He wasn’t going along with the lyrics of the song to make fun of you – he’d expressed to you enough times that he adored the soft pudginess of your body for you to know he meant it – but it still surprised every time he made sure to pay special attention to the squishier parts of you.

The sound of your squeak pulled another laugh from Suguru, and though at first you were planning to glare at him, you couldn’t go through with it; not when his expression was full of so much love and relief. He crossed the kitchen to reach you again, whatever was in the mixer long forgotten in favor of you. When he reached out for you, going to him was easier than breathing. He pulled you close, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as he swayed around the kitchen with you. The movement didn’t match the energy of the song at all, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You were safe and secure in his arms, and Satoru had enough energy for all three of you; it was impossible not to watch him as he danced around the kitchen, white hair and blue eyes shining, and he flashed you that brilliant grin of his every time he caught your gaze. 

Things weren’t suddenly perfect; Lizzo and dancing in the kitchen was not a magical fix-it for the irregularities in your emotional state, but it was certainly a stepping stone back to your normal. And you knew, without any doubt in your mind, that you would have the support and full confidence of your lovers behind you every step of the way. They were your way back to yourself, after all. Suguru was your anchor in stormy seas, tethering you to something real, something sturdy; Satoru was the lighthouse calling you home when the waters calmed enough for you to move again.

i hope you guys have enjoyed seeing some of my other stuff i hadn't yet shared here! though i can't promise when i'll have anything new, know that i am working on things now + am preparing things for my upcoming milestone event!!! take care of yourselves as best you can 💜. divider by cafekitsune

tagging: @kentohours @mitsuristoleme @marinnnnnnnnn @witchbybirth @peachdues

[jstar25]

In regards to the previous post, I wanted to explain myself after some reflection. I wrote it during a strong depressive funk that I felt when returning to the website after several years. I wanted to think the account would have remained untouched, but in retrospect I should have remembered posts belong to the world once they're released. I want to apologize to anyone who I confused or upset with the message, it wasn't my intention to insult but I suspect my bad mood leaked into my wording.

My emotional reaction to seeing internet activity is probably a good reminder I don't mix well with social media. I am an emotional person and being exposed to so much tends to be overwhelming for me. DD and I have very different perspectives on the issue, I react by pushing people away while he has always encouraged me to come to a state of acceptance. DD has tried to accommodate my feelings many times in the past, and ended up repeatedly pressured into being my mouthpiece whenever I had a grievance. I'd like to stop making my difficulties his problem. My personal feelings as an individual made me want to respond to the activity I saw upon logging back in, but it's unrealistic for me to expect complete silence. Among other things I need to work on, I need to learn to deal with the world on its terms rather than trying to correct it.

I'm continuing to learn how to move on from the negative experiences in the past and let them go so I can have happiness in the future. I've always had problems with that, and it really is high time I get the skill down. I want to give deepest thanks to everyone who has helped me to get this far. I don't think I could have made it on my own, so I'm grateful for everyone who has been so patient with me. There is so much I still want to continue to make, and the best way to move forward on those ideas would be to avoid retreading old ground.

-Julian

[marisol-holme]

The retired good girls guide for writing

I haven’t always been able to understand myself. 

I never felt like I was able to clock pure basic needs. Couldn’t tell if I was hungry or thirsty. I finished my meals early, preferring to always feel full, in a silent critic of my mother and father’s controlling rule over my life. A few bites of fuck you always left on the plate. I liked to see how far I could push it. How little I could drink, sleep, or eat, and still function. A true desert island scenario would see me lasting years; I had inadvertently trained myself for it. Except my desert island was more devoid of emotional fulfilment and attention. 

I had to get creative. I developed some interesting tendencies, sure. But mostly I just wanted to escape. Now my parents never went out, and my internal world was already tumultuous at best, so I did what anyone would do and read. I read voraciously. The ability to turn off my hunger had seeped into all areas of my life. A fugue state dissociation through most of my early years through to adolescence. But I was able to come alive when I was reading. When I read, it was like my first breath. Hungry. I could imagine these worlds and built them up easily, colourfully within my mind’s eye. I'd picture the strong female characters that I admired. I’d taste food, hear music. It was the only time I was ever able to really live, before I had to go downstairs and pretend to eat.

Unwittingly, my upbringing fostered just the correct environment for me to develop a writer’s hunger. Because a writer is always a reader before they grow mad to write. I grew mad fast. I had to. I had to create worlds for me to escape into, away from all the shouting and fighting. Alchemise what I’d read into something new and original. It helped that I was an avid daydreamer, although a psychiatrist might call me a maladaptive daydreamer, but it only ever occurred to me when I was bored. Parallel to this, I grew into shame, so what I wrote I would throw away. I sadly have none of my early works. They are long decomposed into sub-atomic and absorbable waste, probably seeped into a water system somewhere and live inside all of you. Yuck. Not even my best work. 

Then I grew up and I had no dreams because I was not hungry. I hadn’t picked up a book in a long time. I dabbled with things that made me feel warm. Partying and shallow conversations. Grotty pubs and sticky clubs. Good friends made me feel a good kind of warm. But it took me a long time to find my way back to literature. Through a work stint as a Nursery Practitioner, I found my way back into writing. You see, at the nursery we had to send updates to parents all about what their children were getting up to. I enjoyed this task and wrote the children’s days like stories. Descriptive and alive. I’d got the bug and the bug had bit me. I didn’t last long once I had started writing again and I quickly found myself working at the Ideas Foundation. 

Through my new employer, I was encouraged to trial as much as possible to find out what I enjoyed doing. I was also very privileged to have access to several creative professionals who genuinely wanted to help and mentor those younger than them. Mentors can see all your ducks and help you to get them in a row. My ducks were all over the place and needed very graceful guidance. You push my ducks too much and, well, they explode. Poof!

Speaking to seasoned professional copywriters, I was able to glean their persistent journey into the profession. The confusion I once had around my goals has seemed to have dissipated. The ability to feel hungry for life and understand myself has only grown. My spark is back. 

The excitement and giddiness I feel when I think about myself as a writer is immense. The energy can fuel me for days. I look to the bottom left of my documents and the number of words that can pour out onto a page grows and grows with each project I set myself. The possibilities as a writer seem endless from this perspective. 

I understand that there is a lot more to these dreams that simple want. I must be focused. Persistent. Take up the offers of guidance from those around me. Accepting critic and moving towards goals. But the potential is there. I understand myself a little better. I value my work a little more. Hopefully, one day in the not-so-distant future a book of mine might get thrown away and end up decomposing in the damp soil into tiny fragments that find their way into us. At least that work will be better and born of something other than the child’s will to survive and create. That would make me feel okay.