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adventuringblind · 9 months

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If You Don't Want the Truth, then Don't Ask

Oscar Piastri x Autistic!Reader

Genre: fluff

Request: kinda...? People want more of this content, so who am I to deny them? My requests are open! Please don't hesitate to send me ideas!

Summary: One thing that Oscar loves most about her is that she's always honest. Unfortunately, it seems not everyone has learned that.

Warnings: Media being toxic, the reader gets frustrated at not understanding human behavior

Notes: written in third person

Masterlist

Oscar had fallen in love with her honesty. He never had to guess at her opinions on things or dance around subjects himself.

It was a reprieve from always being coached in media to finally not having to filter himself.

Anyone who had gotten close to her knew one rule she had: if you don't want an honest answer, then don't ask.

She struggles communicating with vocal tones. People often mistake her opinion for being judgemental. It makes her feel unable to speak up for herself. It was never her intention to cause problems. She was just saying her truth.

Emotional communication is even more difficult. She always manages to say the wrong thing. Oscar didn't believe this and felt comforted when she talked him through the truth of the day. But if she was struggling with words and emotions, she opted to communicate via physical touch.

She'd developed a code for human behaviors she didn't quite understand.

When charles was upset about a race, she hugged him. When Oscar was smiling, she kissed his cheek. When Max was being lectured by his father, she stuck her middle finger up at Jos. When Lando couldn't eat his food, she gave him one of her snacks that he also liked.

It became more natural to the grid the more she did these things.

Unfortunately for the fans and the media, they hadn't figured it out. It was ridiculous in everyone's minds how they never learned their lesson.

A picture started circling the internet once of her kissing Lando's cheek after an amazing race. She knew it was a happy moment but was too overwhelmed to deal with words. Oscar knew she did this to anyone she was comfortable with and knew she was loyal. She'd expressed repeatedly why she loved him and not Lando. Oscar only laughed as she went down her very pointed list of reasons why Oscar was better. Earning a pout from the Brit.

The fans started calling her all sorts of nasty names. It hurt her a little, but Oscar even more. He'd expressed multiple times to his fans not to involve her in drama.

Race weekend got a bit awkward. Journalists wanted to ask the two questions. Oscar was quick to deny them attention and left for free practice.

The nerospicy femal, however, was not as lucky. Somone found her hiding in the garage.

"Are you aware of the photo going around social media right now?" The female reporter asked her.

She hesitated for a moment, trying to find her voice. "Yes." The reporter waited a minute for her to elaborate only to receive silence.

She clears her throat. "Do you have any thoughts about it? Are the rumors true?"

She stares again for a moment. "I think you people are bored and want to pick apart someone else's life instead of your own."

It was the reporters turn to stay in silence. "That may be true for some." She fumbles. "But the concern of the fans is that you'll have a negative effect on the McLaren racing drivers."

"I think the fans you speak of are niave then. Not every human being is the same. I'm in love with Oscar, not Lando, as simple as that. Just because my affection looks different doesn't mean I'm doing anything wrong." The girl shrugs her shoulders. Simply stating a fact of herself.

The reporter leaves in silence. No other words were shared between them.

Oscar saw the article the next day. They were getting ready to head to the track for FP3 and qualifying. "Have you seen this article?" He asked.

"No, what article?" Oscar flips his phone to her. The reporter from yesterday had written an article about their conversation. Interestingly enough, it was exactly what she had said. The journalist was impressed with her honesty and approach to toxic rumors.

Oscar kissed her cheek. "I'm so proud of you."

The next time it happened was during an interview in the fan zone. She'd been standing off to the side with the other McLaren staff who follow them around. She likes listening to the fans ask the boys questions.

Then a fan asked a question about her. "Oscar, why is your girlfriend mean to the reporters?"

Both Oscar and Lando rolled their eyes. "She's here right now if you want an honest answer." Oscar smirked.

It was terrifying when Oscar and Lando were waving her up to the stage. She waited for the approval of the staff and security before exchanging seats with the Australian.

He looked so please she was up there. "The fans want to know why you're so 'mean' to the reporters, as they put it." The two boys were laughing hysterically now.

"I personally don't think it's mean. If they don't want an honest answer, then they shouldn't be asking questions." She shrugged. "Is there a specific time you're referring too?"

"When the vouge journalists asked if you were hiding something because you wear loose clothing."

Lando perked up instantly. "This is one of my favorite moments. We went out and got her favorite dinner after this to celebrate."

"Firtly, the reporter had no business asking that. I don't like it when my clothes feel weird and I was already overwhelmed so I wore what I thought was comfortable." Oscar put his arm around her. A hint of pride edging its way across his features. "Secondly, the didn't put the whole story. The reporter asked if I was pregnant, and then when I said no, he proceeded to ask me if I was wearing anything underneath."

"The comeback is the best part."

"I was confused why he asked me this, so I asked if he had anything underneath the hideous mask he was wearing. Then he called me rude." She frowned, but the fans were enjoying the story.

Oscar glances at Lando. "You should tell the next part."

Lando is still chuckling from the last statement. "I was coming around the corner and heard her say that, then I couldn't stop laughing. So obviously I joined in as well."

The other two were shaking their heads at Lando in exasperation as he continued. "When I came up next to her, she asked why he would ask something like that. It's a pretty common question between us, so I explained why he did it and why he shouldn't do it."

"Then he insulted him some more."

Oscar finishes out the story and also laughs at this point. "Most of the things in the article were what Lando said. The others were what she did say. Including asking if this was his way of flirting and turned him down on his advances."

She always missed social cues, and she'd heard some of the drivers flirt by asking what someone had on underneath their clothing. It was a genuine assumption.

Oscar found it most amusing as Lando recounted the story for the first time that evening. She had looked mildly dazed, frustrated, and confused. Oscar took the time, in between laughing, to explain some of the nuances she didn't understand. Including why they were laughing so hard.

Next came a conversation with Zak.

The boys were doing media things, so he'd started to try and make conversation with her.

He was a person who did not understand that she's autistic and communicates different then he was expecting. Normally, Oscar or Lando was here to help things flow, but now she was going to need to swim on her own.

"Have you been enjoying Monaco?" He asked.

She played with her fingers to help her brain stay present. Something she often did to stim when she didn't want it to be noticeable. "It's cozy when it's not race weekend. I think the race has made it crowded."

He looked a little surprised. "Do you not like crowds? I thought you did since you come to most of the races."

"Seeing them is fine. Being trapped in them is difficult."

"That's a little odd of a perspective, don't you think?" He laughed. "I feel like you either enjoy the crowds or you hate them."

She didn't understand what he meant by that. Didn't she just say what she thought? Why was he asking the same question? "Factually, I think you can enjoy seeing a crowd, like on TV, and also become claustrophobic when in one."

He didn't know how to respond. The staring became awkward for him as he tried to respond. She just waited. Assuming he had now understood her point. Then he came up with an excuse as to why he needed to duck out of the conversation.

Zak asked Oscar about it later. To which the Australian internally face-palmed. Then, he proceeded to explain the unspoken role.

Zak apologized the next day if he made her uncomfortable. She just looked between him and Oscar. Hoping for an answer as to how he could've done that.

It took a while, but they finally got their. Now Zak goes to her if he ever wants an honest opinion on something.

The most recent time actually hurt her. She spent days inside her and Oscar's room. Struggling to eat, sleep, and communicate.

She was lucky that Oscar was around to help her through this. His frustration almost overwhelming his own mind.

Two weeks ago, they had been in Silverstone. It was an amazing race, and she felt happy that she got to share it with him.

She had been making friends with the other WAG's around the paddock. So when Oscar was pulled away, she went to find someone to hang out with until they finished.

She found Kika and Lily in the Williams hospitality. It was warm in the building, so when she sat down with them, she decided to get comfortable and took off her sweatshirt.

Her shirt that day was not the usual baggy t-shirt and jeans. Today's she was wearing a crop-top that showed her stomach, but she felt cute and confident, and Oscar complimented her on it the entire morning. He said she looked good when she's comfortable and that's what matters to him.

Her body was not the ideal body type that meets the standard beauty criteria. Frankly, she didn't care.

She's healthy. She's comfortable. Oscar has said daily that he loves her as she is.

She wasn't expecting the fans in hospitality to ask her anything about it.

When she got up to get water, a few young women approached her. This had happened before, and she assumed they wanted to ask about Oscar or know of they could get a picture with him.

She assumed wrong.

"How come you're not wearing what you normally do?"

"Because I felt comfortable in this today."

"I think the other style suits you better. Don't you think?"

"I don't have a style. This is just comfortable."

"Is this because Oscar likes it better?"

"No, he likes it when I'm comfortable."

She was trying to keep up. All the questions flying at her rapidly. The music was reverberating off the wall. The hospitality staff were cleaning and packing.

Her head started to spin. Her hands flew up to cover her ears. She was going to cry if she didn't get out.

She was thankful the Kika and Lily noticed and got her out of the area. Blocking anyone from speaking to her and ignoring those who tried to stop them.

They ran into Oscar on the way to somewhere quiet. He immediately placed his hands over hers to try and help block out more sound until he could get her to her headphones.

Kika and Lily explained what happened. The females asking her questions were not understanding why she was giving them the same answer. Their intentions were unknown, but it was obvious she looked uncomfortable and cornered in that moment.

So he led her away into his driver room and told her she could lock the door and he'd come get her when it was time to leave. She obliged, turning off the lights to help her senses.

She curled up in the corner and soothed herself until Oscar came back.

Someone had taken a video of the encounter, and people started asking questions about her. Why does she do the things she does? It didn't make any sense to them. It made her frustrated because they made her out to be an alien on her own planet.

Her body couldn't take it anymore. She stayed in her corner with the lights off and shut out the world.

Except for Oscar. He sat in the dark with her. They ate meals on the floor. He helped her bathe in the dark. She felt so lucky to have found someone who understands and cares as much as he does.

His PR team was trying to do something about the video. It wasn't right for it to be posted, and McLaren was doing what they could, but It wasn't enough.

So Oscar took matters into his own hands. He decided to answer all their questions. With her permission, of course.

She cried when she read it. He was happy that she felt safe enough with him to let herself unmask, but he wanted her to be able to unmask anywhere. They were taking a step in the right direction, and they both ate comfort food that night.

Instagram story message because idk how people do SMAU's: "I want to take a minute to address the video that was posted about my girlfriend recently. My girlfriend is Autistic, meaning that things can become overwhelming easily. You might not understand everything she does, but you don't have to. She is her own person and has her own life. What she answers to questions is her truth. If you don't want an honest answer, don't ask the question.

-Oscar

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celaenaeiln · 2 months

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Ive been reading the older comics (1950s) of World’s Finest, and I just realised Batman is so smiley and full of expression while Superman kind of isn’t. Is there a reason for this change or is it just the authors and time changing haha

YES!! Yes to both but I have so much to say about this because it's not just about time changing, but the way real life changed is intertwined in the comics in their character growths.

Batman

Let's start with the grim avenger. Here's the thing - the grim avenger wasn't grim because he had Dick Grayson by his side and I'll explain how the medal ages and Bruce's happiness is connected to how close Dick was to Bruce and the relationship Dick had with Bruce influences his view later on of his father in comparison to how the rest of the batkids see Bruce.

As you said, Bruce was the happiest he's ever been in the 1950s. He and Dick had the time of their lives, sunshine, glory, joy, adventure - you name it and they had it all. This was the Golden Age.

Batman (1940) Issue #46

Detective Comics (1937) Issue #95

But as time passed, Dick eventually began to grow up. When the Teen Titans first formed, the Golden Age of comics transitioned into the Silver Age as Dick began to work more independently from Bruce but was still close. The Bronze Age was when Dick was on the cusp of leaving and then just left (1970s-1985s).

The reason I'm bringing this up as to why Bruce changed, it has to do with Dick. When Dick went off to college, Bruce actually shut the cave down and moved out of the manor with Alfred because he didn't know how to be Batman without Dick. He said he was going on a little soul-searching to find himself again.

Batman (1940) Issue #217

But real-life readers got really mad this and said, "Bruce was always a grim detective. When he was with Robin, he was too happy! We want to see him angry like he used to be!" So the writers realized that Bruce turning away from Batman was huge mistake so this set forth the grim avenger batman thing again.

Dick also feels the same way, that him moving to college was what changed the dynamics between them.

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

Granted Bruce is mad that Dick decided to drop out of college in favor of being Robin but it's also about the fact that Bruce wouldn't have responded like this before. Something's changed. And overall it can be summed up to Bruce being angry, frustrated, upset, and lonely with Dick gone, those emotions compounding into a new or renegaded form of Batman, Dick coming back and realizing - he doesn't want to be controlled and he doesn't want to be this new darker version of Bruce. The change in idealisms were Dick is more light-hearted and Bruce is slowly becoming Darker weighs on Bruce too.

Bruce's pov of the situation -

Batman (1940) Issue #138

Dick's pov -

Secret Origins (1986) Issue #13

Dick didn't want to be like Batman, Bruce was already upset but Dick's gradual distance from who he was turning into combined with his frustration of himself - it led Bruce to become the person he is now, someone he doesn't like and it's this circling self-hatred of what he become that keeps him perpetually angry and moody.

It's so important to talk about this because it's not just a time change, it's actively part of the comics. It's part of who Bruce is and why he is this way now. To explain more on what I said and elaborate further on what you said about Bruce becoming less smile-y :

Batman (1940) Issue #359

He lashes out at Dick, feels bad about it, and grumps over how he can't trust anyone in the world and this just keeps continuing over the years.

Tim and Dick actually talk about this too, the idea that Bruce was different with Dick then he was later on. Going on a slight tangent here but during one time in Gotham Knights Dick gets "dismayed" at Tim because Tim questions Bruce's morality and Dick's like "How dare you! He's a good person, he's amazing." And Tim's just like "No, he's not??"

Batman: Gotham Knights Issue #26

Dick grouches about this with Barbara and she tells him -

Batman: Gotham Knights Issue #26

slayy

Again what she says "First of all, the Bruce who raised you and the Bruce who works with Tim are not exactly the same man. Tim has had a very different experience, and is likely to have very different thoughts and beliefs."

Tim says it too in Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying when he's comparing Dick and Jason's Robin eras -

Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying

And Dick talks about it again with Checkmate in the Checkmate (2006) comic about how he used to make Bruce laugh. He's quiet for a moment and then they talk somberly about how Bruce never laughs anymore.

So to sum it all up, the reason Bruce changed was because Dick drifted apart from him as he aged and he grew more independent, and Bruce as a result felt stifled and upset by this change and grew more independent too but in a darker way, and all these changes between Dick and him as well as within himself led to him being gloomier and grumpier. The authors also played a big part in acknowledging Bruce changing as a result of Dick leaving but also due to the readers' responses of having Batman return to his stern countenance of a time before Dick came along. Hence the decreasing medal ages that went from a happy Bruce Wayne to the sad and waspish one we know now. But maybe it also has to do with the fact that Bruce and Dick stopped getting to ride the backs of dinosaurs, fight pirates, and play prince and the pauper with real princes lol.

Superman

Clark is a very different story and I think it's because of how it's the reverse of Batman. In the beginning Clark was very - stern? He definitely wasn't smiling or laughing or fuzzy feelings but it wasn't the author's intention for him to be any of that. In the beginning, Superman was portrayed be a powerful and virtuous hero, fighting for truth, justice, and the American way. This portrayal was aimed at providing readers an uplifting and optimistic character during hard times because he was created in 1939 and it was the end of the Great Depression (1929 - 1939) and the beginning of WWII (1939 - 1945). The fact that it was the end of the great depression only made it worse because the depression only ended due to millions of men and women going off to fight war. So it was just VERY upsetting times and therefore Superman was a symbol of hope - for the war.

Superman (1939) Issue #12

Superman (1939) Issue #8

Superman (1939) Issue #34

But as soon as the war ended, you see a shift in the way Superman is written.

Superman (1939) Issue #36

Superman (1939) Issue #76

I guess it all comes down to this - Clark's writers were focused on his deeds. It was about solving problems and that's it. Whereas with Bruce, the focus was on solving problems but it was done through his relationships. He relied heavily on Dick as a partner and best friend and they were able to share their difficulties and have fun whereas Clark had no one, except Lois but in civilian identity. Because of this, it wasn't until later comics when writers started introducing new elements, exploring different aspects of his character, and adapting to the changing cultural and social contexts that these interpretations have included moments of joy, personal growth, and triumphs, as well as challenges, conflicts, and moments of introspection.

Superman: Heroes

It was both the ending of the war and gradually interacting with other characters that made his personality lighter and funner to read. You can even think about it this way - as Clark started to rely more on people, he started to open up and become more light hearted as the years passed but as Bruce began to distrust people and rely less on others, his personality grew darker and angrier. Bruce and Clark went through the same personality changes but Bruce started pretty early on with Dick and lost him leading to a downward turn in personality whereas Clark started with no one then gained Lois and Jimmy Olsen causing an upward trend. Two sides of a coin.

Moral of the story folks: learn to rely on others or end up like Batman.

#bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #robin dick grayson #tim drake #robin tim drake #barbara gordon #oracle #joey wilson #clark kent #superman #cl anon asks #cl asks #thanks for the ask!

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 9 months

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"you can do whatever you want, you're not Stuck With Me."

"i'll tell you one thing, we'd make history, you and me. you're getting closer now, it's getting better now, but you're still so far gone."

synopsis// bottled up feelings have to come out eventually.

pairing// suguru geto x gn!reader

word count// 8k

contents// angst with a happy ending, college!au, literally just y/n and geto being idiots but mostly y/n, shoko only knows tough love, obligatory rain scene, friends to lovers, ooc geto?

notes// scorpions are haunting me so i’m posting this as a distraction. anyways one of my anons requested this!!! so anon i hope i did ur idea justice and that u like it sorry its kinda all over the place.... anywho so besides this being a request, it was also inspired by the song the point by eatmewhileimhot! bye :3 OH and if anyone else has any other requests feel free to lmk!!

You poke at your food, focusing on the sound your fork makes as it scrapes against your plate instead of whatever the person sitting across from you is saying. You know you should pay attention; you know you’re being rude, but god, are you bored out of your fucking mind. You would much rather be hanging out with Suguru right now, feeling a twinge of regret at turning him down just for this.

“Y/N?”

Your head raises to look at the person in front of you. “Huh?”

They laugh nervously. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

You frown sheepishly. “Uh, no, sorry.”

“It’s fine,“ they say, clearing their throat, “I was just saying how I kinda wish we went somewhere else cause I'm craving zaru soba, but I wanted to impress you, you know?”

You nod, not computing the last of his sentence with your brain stuck on the mention of zaru soba. “Suguru likes that.”

“What?”

“Zaru soba—Suguru likes that.”

Your date shoots you a confused stare, and you subconsciously sink into your chair.

“Is, uh, is there something on my face or?” you ask, bringing your hands up to feel around your face.

They shake their head. “No, it’s just—uh, you bring up this Suguru guy a lot, and by a lot, I mean like you’ve brought him up this whole date...”

“I have?”

They nod.

“Shit—i’m sorry..”

“It’s fine.” They dismiss your apology by asking, “What is he to you anyway?”

You stare at him blankly. That’s an easy question. Suguru, to you, is your—he’s your—

“He your friend or something?”

Yes! Suguru is your friend—your best friend even—so why can't you say it out loud? Why are you hesitating?

You laugh nervously, mumbling, “Or something...”

“Or something?” they repeat in hopes you’ll elaborate on what you mean.

You don’t.

Instead, you stand abruptly out of your seat and gather your things. “Um! You know, this has been really great and all, but I actually think I should get going.”

"Oh, okay,” they say, standing up with you. “Uh, do you wanna do this again maybe?”

“You're a lovely person, but...

“It's Suguru, isn't it?”

“What?” You almost choke on your spit as you frantically stammer, “No, uh, no! It's not Suguru-Suguru’s just my-it's-“ you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. “It's not because of him.”

They curtly hum. “Thanks for giving me a chance anyway.”

You nod. “I'm gonna—I'm gonna go.”

☆☆☆☆

Suguru is face down on a pillow on his bed when Gojo walks into their shared dorm.

“What happened now?” He asks as he goes to sit on the edge of Suguru’s bed.

“Y/N’s on a date,” he grumbles into the pillow, his words barely audible.

Gojo rolls his eyes. "Suguru, this is just sad at this point.”

Suguru lifts his head and glares at Gojo from over his shoulder. His eyes burning holes into the other's head.

“What? It is!”

Suguru groans and kicks Gojo as he buries his face back into his pillow.

“Ow! Don’t get mad at me for telling the truth!”

Suguru kicks him again.

“Stop that! You’re acting like a child!”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Ok, listen, this isn’t about me,” Gojo adds, rolling his eyes.

Suguru rolls onto his back and drapes an arm over his face, muttering, “Whatever.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Gojo grumbles as he stands up and walks over to his own bed. “I can't take this, Suguru.“ He grabs his pillow and throws it at Suguru. "You can't do this every time they go on a date!”

Suguru doesn’t even flinch when the pillow lands on his face, nor does he bother moving it as he responds, “Watch me.”

Gojo walks back over to Suguru and grabs the pillow from his face before resuming his position on the end of Suguru's bed. "How long has it been?”

“Since?”

“Since you first started liking them.”

Suguru hesitates to answer, “Too long.”

“Exactly!” Gojo exclaims, shaking the pillow in his hands for dramatic effect. “Maybe…”

Suguru waits a moment to see if Gojo will finish his sentence, and when he doesn’t, Suguru sits up, quirking up his eyebrow at him as he asks slowly, as if attempting to subtly warn Gojo to pick his next words carefully: "Maybe what, Gojo?”

“Maybe it’s time to try and move on, Suguru…” He frowns and asks softly, “Are you just gonna torture yourself like this for the rest of your life?”

Suguru sighs and turns away from Gojo, a small frown on his face. He knows he’s right, but he’s scared in all honesty because, on the one hand, what if it works? What if he actually does move on? What if it was this easy to move on this whole time and he was just here torturing himself for nothing? And on the other hand, he doesn't want it to. He’s liked you for so long. You've taken up so much of his heart that, at this point, he thinks his heart is shaped like you, and it would feel wrong to not like you. He can't imagine himself not being completely and utterly devoted to you, and he doesn’t think he wants to.

“Suguru.”

Suguru's brows knit together as he looks up at Gojo.

Gojo sighs. “Just try? One date. That’s all I’m asking.”

Suguru rolls his eyes, but there’s no real malice behind it. “I don’t even know anybody, Gojo.”

He perks up at the absence of rejection and happily explains, “Don’t worry bout that; leave it all up to me!" He emphasizes the word 'me' by pointing toward himself.

“Ok, well, that makes me even more inclined to say no.”

"Suguru, pleaseee,” Gojo begs. “Just one date!! That’s all I’m asking! You’re my friend, Suguru, and I know I don’t act like it, but I really do hate seeing you like this.”

Suguru crosses his arms and raises his eyebrow at him in suspicion, wondering, “Why are you being nice?”

“Because, contrary to popular belief, I do in fact care about my friends.”

Suguru breathes out heavily at his response, letting a brief silence wash over them.

“So..." Gojo pries.

“Fine.”

“Yay!-“

Suguru instantly cuts him off, one finger raised, as he emphasizes sharply, “But just one date, Gojo.“

“Good enough for me!” he says, nodding quickly. “This will be the best date of your life, and you’ll realize you don’t even like Y/N all that much!”

Suguru feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him from that statement but quickly plays it off with a scoff, “Yeah, or it’s the worst date of my life, and I realize just how much more I like Y/N.”

“Ok, well,“ Gojo frowns and scratches his head awkwardly, “Can we at least try to be optimistic?”

“Fine.”

☆☆☆☆

Shoko’s sitting on her bed with her textbook in her lap when you enter your dorm, kicking your shoes off haphazardly across the room and slamming the door shut.

“You good?”

You groan in response as you sluggishly make your way toward her, pushing the book off her lap and instead replacing it with your head.

She looks down at you with a raised eyebrow. “I was reading that, you know.”

You groan again, but this time it comes out louder and more gutteral.

“Are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or are you gonna just lay here in my lap groaning?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

You pout, looking up at her. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Where should I start?”

“Shoko,” you whine.

She bites back a smile as she asks, “Why would you think something's wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter. “I mean, I go on so many dates, right?”

Shoko nods and hums something in acknowledgment.

“But they all never end up working out! Like none of them!” You exclaim, throwing your hands out in front of you, barely missing Shoko, who jerks her head to the side just in time. “They always all say the same thing.”

She pushes your hands back down so that she can return to her original position and asks, “Which is?”

You let your hands fall onto your chest as you turned your head to the side to avoid her gaze, mumbling, “That I mention Suguru a lot.”

You don’t even have to look back up at her to know she’s raising her eyebrows at you in question.

“Well, do you?”

Your gaze snaps back up at her as you exclaim, “Yeah, but!” You pause. “He's my… He's my best friend, so obviously I'd mention him a lot!”

The word best friend feels heavy and foreign in your mouth, like it shouldn’t have been there in the first place. You’ve never had to put a label on you and Suguru, not until the dates at least, but even then, you and Suguru were just... simply that. You were just you and Suguru.

“Really feeling the love here.”

“Shokoooooo.”

She rolls her eyes. “You were just on a date, right?”

You nod.

“And so what happened?”

“Nothing! I was bored; I'm always bored on these dates.”

"Okay, hypothetically,” she says, “What would you have rather been doing?”

“Hanging out with Suguru! I always tell myself that I'm literally gonna stop canceling on him for dates because I always end up regretting it.”

“Right, right,” she says, nodding. “Y/N, have you ever considered that maybe you like Geto?”

You roll your eyes. “Of course I like Suguru, idiot. Did you not just hear me call him my-“

She cuts you off: “Your best friend. Yeah, whatever; that's not what I mean. I mean, like. romantically.”

“Huh?” Shoko’s words take a minute to fully register in your brain, but once they do, your jaw drops. “Huh?! Pft, no, of course not, that is... That is a… That is a silly thought.”

She stares down at you blankly, knowing the way you just stumbled over your whole sentence reveals your lack of conviction in your own words. "Right… Well, if you’re gonna be an idiot in denial, can you do that in your own bed? I need to study.”

You roll your eyes as you sit up. “Is studying all you do?”

She shrugs, and now that her lap is free from you, she places her textbook back into her lap. “Is obsessing over Geto all you do?”

“I don't like you.”

“You love me. Now leave me alone.”

You begrudgingly hop off her bed and into your own, making it a point to sigh dramatically the whole time. Once you're in your own bed, your phone goes off, and upon seeing who the message is from, you bite back a smile.

Shoko looks up from her textbook at the noise. “Oh? That your man?”

“Shut your mouth.”

She simply laughs under her breath before returning to her studies, and you happily return your attention back to your phone.

Suguru<3: hey

Y/N: hey!

Suguru<3: oh I didn't expect you to reply so quick lol. I thought u were on a date?

Y/N: was :/ that shit suckedddddd it was so boring Suguru pls I would've much rather hung out with you

Suguru<3: well I mean u could've

Y/N: I KNOWWWW ugh next time remind me to never cancel on you for a lame date again k?

Suguru<3: yeah I will… so I'm taking it you won't be seeing them again?

Y/N: definitely not... I do wanna see u again tho!!

Suguru<3: you'll see me in class y/n

Y/N: yeah but that's so far awayyyyy

Suguru<3: yk if u wanna hangout rn u can just say so

Y/N: do u wanna hang out?

Suguru<3: he can't he's busy -gojo

Y/N: gojo when I get my hands on u.

Suguru<3: :p -gojo

You groan dramatically and throw your phone somewhere onto your bed as you shove your face into your pillow, mumbling, “I'm going to sleep.”

“Eager to see your man tomorrow?”

“Die.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Gojo and Suguru are walking to class when Gojo starts humming obnoxiously, like he’s thinking about something and wants someone to notice, so he doesn’t stop until Suguru sighs.

“Can you shut up?”

Gojo frowns and feigns hurt. “Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m thinking about?”

“Fine, what are you thinking about, Gojo?”

Gojo slightly leans in toward Suguru as he coos, “Thinking about who I’m gonna set you up with, obviously!”

"Oh, right about that...”

“Nuh uh, you can't back out!”

“But I think they might feel the same?” Suguru says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Gojo’s head whips toward Suguru in shock. “Wait huh?”

“Before you stole my phone yesterday—which I’m still mad about, by the way—they said they would’ve rather hung out with me than go on the date,” he says, pulling out his phone to show Gojo the texts.

Gojo doesn’t say anything, and the lack of anything coming out of his mouth worries Suguru, who’s now scanning Gojo’s face for a trace of anything to tell him what the other is thinking and gets it when Gojo finally cracks a frown.

“What? Why do you look like that?” Suguru asks, and he hates how it comes out more panicked than he intended, his own voice like nails on a chalkboard to his ears.

“I don't wanna say anything that would get your hopes up,” Gojo says, his gaze now fixed on his steps. “And besides, maybe this date could still be good.”

“You’re not gonna let me get out of this, are you?”

“Of course not!” he says, his regular pep back in his step. “So does tomorrow work for you?”

“Yeah, whatever, Gojo, you’d make me go regardless, I don’t know why you ask.”

“Lol, true anyway." Gojo’s steps come to a halt. "Here’s my class; see you later!”

Suguru waves him off: "Yeah, whatever, oh, and Gojo?”

“Hm?”

“At least set me up with someone good," he says, an ever-so-slight smile on his face.

“Of course! Leave it all up to me, bestie!”

Suguru nods and continues on toward his own class, only then does he huff, “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

☆☆☆☆

You sat in your seat, your cheek leaning in your palm, sighing every so often from boredom but quickly perking up when you notice a familiar face walk through the door.

“Suguru!”

“Y/N!”

Your gaze is glued to him as you watch him take his seat beside you; only once he’s fully situated do you speak up again: “I was wondering if you were skipping or something.”

Suguru tilts his head at you in confusion, asking, “Why?”

“Because you took so long.”

He tries to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Shut up. What were you doing anyway?”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “Gojo made me walk him to class.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your voice unamused as you speak, “Lame excuse, I walk with Shoko to her class every day and I still get here before you.”

“Yeah, that’s cause it’s Shoko?”

“True, I’ll excuse it for today if...”

“If?” He narrows his eyes at you, urging you to continue your sentence.

“If we hang out tomorrow?”

“Can we hang out today?” He looks away as he says, “I’m kinda busy tomorrow....”

“Aw man,” you say, frowning, “You’re never busy.”

“I know, sorry, it’s just—" He halts before mumbling out the rest of his sentence—“something Gojo’s making me do.”

Suguru finally returns his gaze to you when he hears you huff.

“He’s taking you from me too often; I'll have to intervene sooner or later if he keeps this up.”

He stifles a laugh. “Can you not today?”

“Nope, I've gotta work on a project for one of my classes,” you say with a disappointed sigh.

“Okay, well, how about Wednesday, then?”

“I can fit you into my schedule, I suppose.”

“Oh shut up; don’t act like you weren’t the one asking me to hang out last night.”

“I was a different person then,” you deadpan.

Suguru rolls his eyes but can’t even try to hide the grin on his face. “Yeah, ok.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Come the next afternoon, Suguru finds himself staring into a mirror at his outfit with a small scowl on his face.

“I look stupid.”

“You always look stupid,” Gojo remarks, patting Suguru on the back.

Suguru ignores him and rolls his eyes, his voice small as he borderline pleads, “Do I really have to go?”

“Yes! It’s too late to back out now when your date is in like twenty minutes, so really you should get going by now,” he says while attempting to push Suguru out the door.

Suguru doesn’t budge. “I don't even know this person, Gojo.”

“That’s what dates are for!”

Suguru looks over his shoulder at Gojo, who’s still trying to push him out the door. “You know this isn’t gonna work, right?”

Gojo rolls his eyes and huffs, “Well, not with that attitude.”

“Gojo.”

“Suguru, you said you’d try! so go! try!”

Suguru sighs and reluctantly gives in… again. “I hate you.”

Gojo waves him off, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you can hate me after your date.”

Suguru doesn’t reply and instead opts to flip him off as he walks out the door.

☆☆☆☆

Suguru sits at a secluded booth in a dimly lit restaurant, lost in thought rather than listening to whatever the person sitting across from him is saying. He knows he should be paying attention; he knows he’s being rude, but god is he bored out of his fucking mind, and to say he’s hating every second of this is an understatement. He’d much rather be hanging out with you right now, regretting turning you down for this because just being here makes a part of him feel like he’s betraying you, and the thought has him anxiously wiping his sweaty palms against his pants. He’s been in love with you since he first laid eyes on you. Suguru was naive to believe he could delude himself into thinking that there was any possibility in any way that he’d move on, let alone with someone Gojo picked.

“Suguru?”

He quickly looks up at the person in front of him. “Yeah?”

They laugh nervously. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No, sorry—I guess I was just, uh, lost in thought.”

"Oh, it’s fine,” they say, confusingly normal about the whole situation. “I was just, um, talking about your friend Gojo, actually.”

He blinks. “Why?”

“I was actually hoping you'd help me get with him?”

“You do realize you're on a date with me, right?”

“Please.” They roll their eyes. “Don't act like you wanna be here any more than I do right now.”

“How did-“

“It's written all over your face, you know? They must be really special.” They tease with a sweet smile, “I almost feel like I should be jealous.”

Suguru swallows harshly, suddenly feeling way more exposed than he would ever want to, especially on a ‘date’. “Sorry…”

They shrug. “Don't be; honestly, I just said yes to this to get some pointers on Gojo, so I don't think I'm any better than you right now.”

Suguru nods, his mind reeling. He’s not actually sure what’s going on or how he got here in the first place. How could his date be so okay with the fact that he’s here thinking about someone else? Oh, right, because so are they, but it’s still not clicking in his brain.

“You can leave if you want.”

He narrows his eyes at them skeptically. “Huh?”

“To go hang out with the one you actually like.”

Suguru shakes his head. There’s somehow too much happening right now for him to comprehend. “Again, what?”

They roll their eyes playfully, an amused smile on their face, as they lean over the table and whisper, “Suguru, I'm giving you an out.”

He blinks, and suddenly everything clicks, and he doesn’t understand why he’s still here when they just told him they could go to you. He stands up abruptly and says, “Right, I'm...“

“Don't say you're sorry; make it up to me by going to them, yeah?”

“I really appreciate that. Uhm, text me and I'll give you pointers on Gojo?”

They laugh and nod. “Yeah. Now, shoo, go to the one you actually want to be with.”

Suguru turns his head toward the exit of the restaurant, ready to leave, but pauses and ends up turning back to his ‘date’, a small smile on his face. “Thank you.”

“Mhm! Also, I want to meet them sometime, k? We’re friends now, sorry!”

“Yeah… Yeah, you can. Someday? Maybe…”

They tilt their head at him, unamused despite the smile on their face. “Bye Suguru.”

He returns the smile and waves before heading off to find you.

☆☆☆☆

You found yourself under a tree somewhere on campus, attempting—and failing—to entertain yourself since Suguru was busy and couldn't hang out, and you didn't even dare try to go to Shoko for entertainment, knowing her face is probably stuffed into her textbook and she would berate you for interrupting her, or if she did agree, she would spend the whole time with her whole face screaming how she would much rather be studying, even when her studying proves to be just for fun because she cheats on her exams anyway, but you digress. Lost in thought, you don't notice how someone’s approached you until their shadow falls over you.

“You dead?”

You look up and are pleasantly surprised to see Suguru. “Hey! I thought you were busy?”

Suguru shrugs. “Left early.”

“What’d you go do anyway?”

“A date.”

The minute the words leave Suguru’s mouth, you can feel your stomach churn in a horrible way. like you’re on a rollercoaster, but it's not fun; you want to get off, and you want to get off now, like this is final destination and you’re about to fall to your doom. Or more so, this makes you realize you've already fallen to your doom; you've already fallen in love with Suguru, and it took Shoko saying something and him going on a date for it to really sink in like it hadn't been there all along. Your jaw clenches, and you're quiet—terrifyingly quiet—and it makes Suguru regret saying anything; he doesn’t even know why he did... Okay, no, he knows. He knows he was acting petty and wanted to rub it in your face like you rub your dates in his, even if not purposeful, and besides, you two are friends, and friends are honest with each other. But maybe he shouldn’t have been, and it's excrutiatingly obvious he shouldn't have been when you suddenly stand up and avoid his gaze.

“Y/N?”

You kick at the dirt under your shoes and mumble, “I should, um, Shoko actually just texted me.”

“Y/N, can you look at me, please?” Suguru sounds desperate.

You look up at him and smile, but with the way your eyes are glazed over, it’s like you’re not even there. “Yeah?”

“I thought we could hang out now?”

“Yeah, but—ugh—Shoko really needs my help, you know?”

“Are we still on for tomorrow at least?”

“I hope your date was good, Suguru.”

“Y/N-“

“If I keep her waiting any longer, she’ll be really mad. I’m gonna go.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suguru wishes he could say he’s surprised when you don’t show up to class the next day, but he’s not. Not at all. Especially from the way you ran off yesterday to how you’re still not answering any of his texts or calls, it was a telltale sign that Suguru would not be seeing you today. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. Of course not. So halfway through class, he left—not like he was paying attention anyway—and made his way to your dorm. Though he hesitates to knock once he’s actually there, he doesn’t even know why you’re ignoring him in the first place, and honestly? He’s scared to find out.

You’ve never acted like this with him before; you’ve always been an open book, always the first to speak up if something he did upset you, so he doesn’t understand why you’ve suddenly done a complete 180. He takes a deep breath before knocking. He came all this way; he isn’t going to just leave without figuring out what's wrong—or at least he’s going to try to figure out what's wrong.

No answer.

He knocks again.

No answer.

Suguru groans as he goes to knock one more time, but before he can, the door is swung open, and he’s met with a disheveled-looking Shoko.

“What?”

“Shoko, hi—“ Suguru gives her a quick once-over. "Sorry, were you asleep?”

She crosses her arms and blows a tuft of hair out of her face. “I was, and I'd like to go back to sleep, so-“

“Right, sorry, uh, is Y/N here?”

“No,” she replies quickly, far too quickly that Suguru doesn't believe her and instead tries to look into the room to find you. Shoko immediately picks up on this and shifts her body to cover any gaps he could look through. “They aren’t here, sorry.”

“Shoko,” he monotones.

She chews the inside of her lip and looks away, and Suguru can tell she's dying to say something, but she ultimately decides against it and shakes her head, looking back up at him.

“They’re not here, sorry.”

Suguru sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It's fine, sorry for waking you.”

“It's fine… Take care of yourself, Geto.”

“Yeah. You too.”

Shoko quickly shuts the door, and instead of climbing back into bed, she grabs her pillow and makes her way toward your bed, only to end up hitting you with it repeatedly. You pull your covers over your head in a futile attempt to protect yourself.

“Shoko, stop!”

“You stop.” She punctuates every word with a hit of her pillow.

“You’re the one hitting me!”

Shoko hits you one last time. “I mean, stop ignoring him, idiot.”

You peek your head out from under the covers, a frown on your face.

“Don't look at me like that; you’re acting childish, and you know that.”

“I can’t look at him.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Shoko, I'm serious!” You speak adamantly, sitting up. “I mean, I realize I like him the exact moment he tells me he went on a date?”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Shoko, I-I can't.”

“Whatever, sulk all you want; don't talk to him about it; I don't care; just scoot over.”

Your face twists in confusion. “What?”

“I'm tired,” she says blankly, now climbing into your bed.

You listen and scoot over, though it's more like she pushes you over. “You know you have your own bed, right?”

She yawns: “Too far away.”

You look down at her, and she's somehow already fast asleep. You roll your eyes and lay back down, looking up at the ceiling with your mind racing, and suddenly your phone vibrates. You know who it is; he’s the only one who texts you, but that doesn’t stop you from checking anyway.

Suguru<3: hey.

Suguru<3: did I do something?

Suguru<3: I don't understand.

Suguru<3: you weren't in class so I tried going to ur dorm. shoko said you weren't there but I don't really believe her.

Suguru<3: can you just talk to me please?

Suguru<3: I miss you.

Suguru<3: guess this means we aren’t hanging out today huh?

Suguru<3: text me soon please.

☆☆☆☆

Thursday

Suguru<3: no class again?

Suguru<3: look I get it

Suguru<3: okay maybe I don't.

Suguru<3: I don't know what I did wrong but if you don't wanna talk that's fine

Suguru<3: can you just let me know you’re okay?

Suguru<3: fuck I don't even care if you have shoko tell me you’re okay or if you tell gojo I just

Suguru<3: I just need to know you’re okay y/n.

Suguru<3: how long are you gonna avoid me?

Suguru<3: or avoid class?

Suguru<3: I miss you.

“Can you answer your fucking phone,” Shoko snaps.

You glare at her and instead shut your phone off completely. “There. Happy?”

"No, not at all; I won't be happy till you stop sulking.”

You smile at her condescendingly. "You are so lovely; did you know that?”

She sighs deeply. “Y/N, you’re ignoring Geto because he went on one date.”

“I'm ignoring him because I'm in love with him.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “And he's supposed to know that how? I'm a hundred percent sure the poor boy has no clue what he did.”

“Shoko, you don't get it! You've never been in love,” you sneer.

“I don't need to be in love to know you're acting stupid.” She shakes her head. “You know what? Ignore him all you want; that's your problem, but you need to go to class; don't throw away your college degree for him.”

You sigh, finally agreeing with her on at least one thing. “Yeah... Yeah, I know I'll go tomorrow.”

She nods happily. “Good. Now can I get back to studying?”

“I'm not the one who made you stop, you took that upon yourself.”

“Watch yourself; I'll walk my ass straight to Geto's dorm and tell him for you.”

“…Sorry”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You get to class the next day extremely early and take a seat in the far back, away from everyone else, hoping Suguru would somehow not see you, or maybe more like in hopes you wouldn’t see him. It doesn't work. The minute he walks in, his eyes are drawn to yours like there was an invisible string there tying him directly to you, and your stomach twists as you see him approach you. As he’s approaching you, he sees your face, and he sees how you look like you're five seconds away from vomiting up everything you’ve ever eaten since you were born, so he stops in his tracks. Besides, a confrontation in the middle of class wouldn't be a good idea either way, so he’ll just catch you after class.

That somehow proves to be much harder than it should have been because once class ends and he turns around to catch you before you leave, you're already gone. He blinks incredulously at your empty seat for a moment before snapping out of it and running out into the halls, trying to find you among the crowd of people, which is easy for him considering you're the only thing that exists to Suguru right now and pretty much always, but even despite that, he can't find you. He stands in the hall, watching people pass him by as he does nothing, and the only thing he can hear is his heartbeat ringing in his ears and the rain that suddenly started sometime during all of this.

He finally snaps out of it once more and realizes that since it randomly started raining, there's a chance that you're somewhere waiting the rain out, unless you are so dead set on avoiding him that you don't care in the first place and walk back to your dorm in the rain anyway... Suguru hopes he's right as he starts walking toward the exit, and exhales heavily in relief when he sees you out on the porch and slowly creeps up behind you.

“Did you know it was gonna rain?”

You flinch at the sound of his voice. “No.”

Suguru’s heart feels like it's about to burst right out of his chest, and he feels like it's been way too long since he's heard your voice. “I think Gojo is gonna bring me an umbrella; do you wanna wait with me?”

“No.”

“No?”

You shake your head and start walking out into the rain, but you don't get far when Suguru reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“Wait!”

You look back at him, your jaw clenched tight. “Let go of me, Suguru.”

“You’ll get sick.”

You yank your wrist out of his grasp. “I don't care; I want to go back to my dorm.”

For a few moments, Suguru feels stuck in place as he watches you begin to walk away, yet everything in his being is screaming at him to go after you, to not let you go. He doesn’t even realize he was holding his breath this whole time until he gasps for air, and at the same time, his body finally decides to align with his mind, and he runs after you. You can hear his foot steps pattering against puddles, which only makes you speed up your walking.

Suguru notices this, and although he's still chasing after you, he decides to call out a pained, “Why are you ignoring me?”

You almost don't even hear him over how loud the rain has grown.

Almost.

“I'm not ignoring you, Suguru,” you say, stopping in your tracks with a deep sigh. He’ll catch you sooner or later, so maybe it's best to just get it over with.

Suguru doesn’t say anything until he's right behind you. You can hear just how clearly his voice trembles as he says, “Oh, so we’re lying now?”

“I'm no-“

“What the fuck happened? What are you doing?” and although he sounded exasperated only a second ago, when he speaks again, it's horrifyingly subdued: “This—this isn't us.”

You whip around to face him, a scowl on your face as you fume, “There is no us.”

Suguru’s face goes blank. No us? That's not right. That's all there is. There's only ever been an us because Suguru is not him without you. It's never just Suguru. It's you and Suguru; it's him and you; there's no him without you.

“What?”

“There is no us, Suguru; that's—“ you say, gesturing in little circles with your hands in front of you, trying to act out whatever word you're looking for. “That's the fucking problem.”

“I don't—“ His voice is breathy as he shakes his head in confusion. “What are you saying, Y/N?”

“You know what I'm saying.”

“No,” he says sternly, "No, I don't. I need to hear you say it.”

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on the rain falling against your face rather than the words coming out of your mouth: “I'm in love with you.”

The silence is suffocating, and you're violently aware of how you can feel Suguru’s eyes burning holes into you. You swallow harshly before peeking your eyes open, and he’s just standing there wide-eyed, his jaw slack.

“Suguru?”

“Why now?”

With his voice so small and brittle, you hardly even heard him.

“Huh?”

“Why now?” he repeats, this time louder, harsher.

“I don't—I don't understand?”

Suguru laughs in disbelief. He brings his hands up to cover his face, and he just laughs into them or cries; he's not even quite sure anymore. And after a few moments of this, he finally takes a deep breath, running one hand down his face as the other drops back to his side. “Do you know how long I’ve been in love with you, Y/N?”

“What?” You’re hopeful for a moment, but that all comes quickly crashing down, realization washing over you. “Wait, but you went on a date.”

“Y/N, it's been so long that Gojo got tired of me wallowing in my own self-pity every time you went on a date.” He sighs and takes a moment to collect his thoughts. “So he forced me to go on one too to try and help me move on.”

“Why didn't you wait for me?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Suguru doesn't know whether to nod or shake his head. “No, I know, but I don't understand.”

Your face scrunches up in disdain, silently reading—what's there to not understand? “Why didn't you wait for me to fall in love with you?”

“Y/N, do you even hear what you're saying right now?” he scoffs. “Do you even hear what I'm saying? All I've ever fucking done was wait for you, and I go on one date that I left early for you, and now I'm the bad guy?”

Your heart sinks like a bag of rocks into a deep body of water. “No wait, Suguru, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry.”

Suguru looks down, avoiding your stare, carefully tapping a puddle with the tip of his shoe as he mumbles, “Yeah.”

“Do-“ you stop yourself and swallow harshly before continuing, “Are you still in love with me?”

He stays silent, and embarrassment floods your bones. How could he still love you? You, who's been subconsciously dangling a treat in front of him like some kind of animal just to coax him into doing what you want, into staying with you, following you around, just because you were too out of touch to realize you even liked him in the first place. Of course, he wouldn't still love you.

“Of course I am. Don't be silly,” he reluctantly admits.

Relief washes over you, and the breath you take feels like the first one you've taken since Tuesday, when he told you about his date in the first place. “So... now what?”

The same relief does not wash over Suguru; in fact, he's feeling anything but relief. Too many things to name, to pin point; it's just all too much. This is just too much. “I need space; I can't—" he shakes his head, his voice barely above a whisper, "I can't do this right now.”

“What?”

“I just. I can't. I'm sorry.”

Your voice cracks, “But-“

“I just need to think about this,” he says, waving his hands around in small circles, referencing the two of you.

“Oh.” You take a step back and nod. “Okay. I'll go then... I love you, Suguru.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Suguru watches you walk away, and he can't tell his tears apart from the rain; can’t tell if his heart is stopping or if it's racing; can't tell if he's breathing or suffocating; he can't tell anything. His surroundings are drowning out and blurring into vague shapes and figures around him, and Suguru is sure he could just drop dead right then and there.

“Jeez, I didn't take that long that you had to walk out in the rain, dramatic much?”

Suguru, in all honesty, didn’t hear a word that was just said; the only thing that caught his attention was the lack of rain hitting him. He looks up to find an umbrella there instead of the dark cloudy sky that resembled his insides a little too much, then looks to his side to find Gojo there, and he wants to wipe the stupid grin off his face. If he can't be happy, why should Gojo? His head drops in defeat at his own thoughts. God, he’s acting shitty.

“Sorry.”

Gojo looks at him curiously. “You good?”

“No. No, I'm not good.”

"Hey dude, what's wrong?”

Suguru lets out a harsh laugh, and with no rain hitting him anymore, he knows for sure the thing dripping down his face is tears. “I fucked up.“

Gojo scans Suguru’s face frantically, looking for something—anything—that will tell him what's wrong with his best friend.

“Suguru, you have to be a little more specific than that.”

“Y/N loves me back.”

Gojo goes wide-eyed, and he gives a confused smile because how could this warrant his friend’s reaction? “What dude, that's gr-“

Suguru quickly cuts him off: "Great, I know, but I told them to give me space, Gojo.”

Frankly, Gojo isn't even worried anymore; he’s just in complete disbelief, shouting, “What? Why the hell would you do that?! Are you stupid?”

“Maybe!” he shouts back, trembling. “I don't know! They just— They went on about how I should've waited for them, and I was mad because that's all I've ever fucking done. I don't know; I wasn't thinking straight, and I fucked up, and they left. I made them leave. I asked for space when I hated all the space we've had from each other this whole week, and I asked for more?” He repeatedly hits his forehead with his palm, muttering, “I'm an idiot, fuck.“

“Suguru.”

“What?”

Gojo tilts his head at him. “Why are you still here?”

The question stills his movements, his hand falling back to his side, and he stares at Gojo in pure confusion. “What?”

“You obviously know that space isn't what you want, and you just said it in the heat of the moment, so why are you still here?”

Suguru is silent.

“Why aren't you running after them? They want you, dude! And you want them too!”

Suguru thinks if it weren’t for Gojo constantly moving, he'd think time had completely stopped in time with his realization on how he’s a complete moron.

“Suguru.”

Suguru sighs. “I hate when you're right; you know that?”

Gojo perks up knowing that he got through to Suguru; he coos sing-song, “If that were true, you'd hate me all the time.”

Suguru nods, “I do.”

“Oh, shut up." Gojo extends the handle of his umbrella toward Suguru. “Do you want my umbrella?”

“No, it’s fine; I’m already wet,” Suguru says, looking down at his soaked clothes as he wipes any remaining tears away. “What’s a little bit more water?”

“Good luck, Suguru.”

“Thanks Gojo.”

☆☆☆☆

You walk into your dorm slowly, in a daze-like state. Honestly, you don't even remember walking here; you just remember your fight? confession? argument? — your something with Suguru, and then there's a lapse in your memory, and now you're here.

“Y/N, dude, you're getting water everywhere.“

You sniffle and look down at the puddle that's forming underneath you. “Sorry.”

Shoko tentatively stands up from her bed and cranes her neck down to try and look at your face. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You look up at her with a wobbly smile. “I confessed.”

She looks at you blankly, unsure if she should say something or if you are.

“He asked for space.”

“He likes you, and he asked for space?”

“I didn't tell you that—“

“It's obvious; keep up,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Anyways, so he asked for space?”

You nod blankly. “Uh huh.”

“Why?”

You rub your eyes in hopes that not looking at Shoko will make the embarrassment lessen. “I said some things in the heat of the moment, and... and yeah.”

It doesn’t.

She’s strangely unfazed; in fact, if anything, she’s partially annoyed. “Ok, and you’re just going to listen to him?”

“What else am I supposed to do, Shoko?” you ask incredulously, glaring at her with your hands back at your sides.

“Fight for him? He likes you back, and if you said something in the heat of the moment, odds are that him asking for space was also just in the heat of the moment.”

“You weren't there, Shoko. You didn't see how he was looking at me—at how he said it.”

“Y/N,” she says disappointedly, eyes shut and pinching her nose bridge. “He's literally been so upset at you ignoring him these past few days; do you really think he meant it when he asked for space? Even more space?”

You blink at her, your mind gone blank.

“Look, maybe he did, yeah? But maybe he didn't, and you won't know unless you go fight for him.”

“I don't know Shoko,” you mumble skeptically.

She rolls her eyes as she rebuts, "At the very least, you can apologize for what you said.”

“I already did.”

“Again, this time now that your head is… somewhat clearer... Are you really just gonna let him get away like this?”

“…no,” you answer weakly, which isn’t good enough for you or Shoko, who’s looking at you with her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “No,” you say again, this time with true conviction behind your words—word. “I don't want to let him get away like this. I don't want it to end like this.”

She gestures toward the door with a small, proud smile on her face. “Then go.”

You look back at the door before looking back at her and nodding. “Thank you, Shoko.”

“Uh huh,” she says, starting to walk back toward her bed, “and when you come back, you better not make another puddle.”

“No promises.”

☆☆☆☆

In an attempt to save whatever dignity you have left, you decide not to run down the halls like a shitty rom-com cliché; instead, you speed walk. Which, in hindsight, is probably even more embarrassing than just full-sending it by running, but you digress. You barely get halfway down the hall when you see Suguru. Both of you make eye contact at the same time, yet neither of you stop making your way toward each other, but you both slow down, carefully walking toward each other like two predators about to attack.

“You're leaving puddles in the hall,” you say quietly now that the two of you have come to a halt right in front of each other.

Suguru nods and looks you up and down. “So are you.”

You both stand there for a moment, just staring at each other, neither of you saying anything. Allowing your presence to speak for itself, but it's awkward—too awkward—and it feels like your knees are gonna give out on you if you stare at him any longer in silence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came for you." He shakes his head, ignoring his own answer, like his very words aren't the most important thing to you right now. He came for you. “What are you doing here? I thought you would’ve been in your dorm by now.“

“I was—“ your voice grows quiet, “But I was coming for you too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for, Suguru. I shouldn’t have said what I said; that was selfish of me. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want space,” he blurts out, hardly acknowledging your apology, which he didn't need in the first place. What he needs is you, and it will always be you.

“You don’t?”

“God no,” he says vehemently. “Space is the last thing I want. I don’t want space from you. I feel like there’s something missing when I’m away from you. How could I ever want space, Y/N?” His voice cracks a little at the end, and it has your heart racing. “I was just mad, and I shouldn’t have said that.”

You have all of these feelings inside you, and you’ve cried enough today to last the rest of your life, so instead you find yourself laughing, and Suguru looks slightly mortified.

“Why are you laughing?”

You laugh some more before trying to catch your breath, and you take a step forward closer toward him as you speak through deep breaths, “I’m just so fucking relieved. I-fuck-I love you, Suguru.”

Suguru closes the space between you two, pulling you into his embrace, and you tuck your face into his shoulder, his cold, damp clothes doing wonders to soothe your now-burning cheeks.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

“I think we look stupid standing here soaking wet and hugging...”

“Wanna make ourselves look even stupider by standing here soaking wet and kissing?”

You pull away ever so slightly just to look at him, and he’s staring at you with a smirk, and the longer he waits, the more furious the blush on his cheeks gets, and you can't help but stall your answer even more just for that reason.

“…matter of fact, yes, I do.”

Suguru grins widely but wastes no time connecting your lips together. The kiss is better than you could have ever imagined; it's gentle yet passionate all at once, and it's sloppy because neither of you can fully stop smiling long enough to keep the kisses consistent. And It's everything. He's everything, and you're mad that it even took you this long to realize that in the first place, but at least you don't have to worry about that anymore. Now you just have to worry about the fact that you two will probably end up getting sick from your wet clothes, but that's a problem for after you two stop kissing—if you two ever stop kissing.

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

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wordstome · 6 months

Note

So… I have a few uni!König questions 🤓📝

(Please, you don’t need to answer all of these unless you want to of course. It's just that this AU has me on my knees, I'm in love with these two nasty gremlins! send help)

1. Does it bother König that their relationship is not official? Or is he happy with the situationship? (This sounds like a stupid question, of course he’s bothered by it. Right?!?)

2. Is König a skilled lover? You said somewhere that reader can’t get satisfaction from other guys because “nobody is as good as König” but does this mean he’s experienced or does he make up for his possible lack of experience in… some other ways? Or is the good sex due to them having this crazy enemies *and* lovers thing going on?

3. Is it enough for König to shoo potential love interests away and off of her by being a hulking possessive menace, or will he still be jealous and butthurt after that? Brood silently for example? Slam doors passive-aggressively? Perhaps even start a full-on argument when they’re behind closed doors?

4. Do you have any hcs of the craziest place(s)/situation(s) they’ve had sex? Obviously because they were so horny or had to hatefuck because the other one said or did something annoying (again)

SALOOOME MY ANGELLL *rubs hands together wickedly* let's do this

1. Not a stupid question at all! In the beginning, it does bother him, especially when he contends with the idea of her sleeping with other guys--or, horror of all horrors, dating someone else. He's also just kind of a traditional guy who wants to woo a lady, but that would require the lady in question to be wooed. At some point, though, he realizes that it doesn't matter how reluctant she is to make it "official", she's not going anywhere. Then he's just intolerably smug about the fact that deep down, she's just as attached to him as he is to her.

2. I'm glad to elaborate on this! König is less experienced than Cinnamon (which is what I'm calling her for now, it probably won't be relevant in the fic itself but I like giving my MCs callsigns/nicknames). What makes him different than the casual partners she's had before is his dedication to pleasing her, if that makes sense. I mentioned in the headcanon post that "him getting better at fucking really just means he's getting better at fucking her". (continued under cut)

I'm going to elaborate more in the fic (if it goes the way that I have it planned), but König becomes so infatuated with Cinnamon because she doesn't treat him like a weird loser to avoid. It's not really that everyone König knows or comes into contact with avoids him or treats him with contempt--he does have friends, but none that are particularly close. Cinnamon is different in that she's an easygoing person (or at least puts on a persona of being easygoing), so whenever König says or does something dubious her reaction is just the equivalent of "haha, you're weird man, but I like that!" (At least until he starts to annoy her in the best way, and then the whole enemies-and-lovers thing kicks in.) Cinnamon's been with a lot of guys who don't really care about her enjoyment or are assholes in other ways, so König treating her like a priority is new to her and also something she can't find anywhere else. And of course, the more they fuck the better he gets 😈

3. Oh, he gets very jealous and pouty for sure. He does a lot of things as a sort of revenge, like scaring off people she’s flirting with. Initially, Cinnamon doesn’t take him that seriously and just humors him, so he never gets far in terms of being mad at her. (Plenty of brooding, though.) He takes it out on her by being rough and degrading in bed, and when he realizes she isn’t interested in anyone else anymore, he’s a lot more relaxed. At that point nothing she does can upset him because he knows she always comes back to him. By contrast, Cinnamon starts getting agitated because 1. She never intended on having a boyfriend 2. She starts to realize she’s fed a very dangerous beast. I'm probably going to write about their first real fight, and it is messyyyyy.

4. The riskiest is definitely a random utility closet on campus. He probably pulled her in there after she spent an entire lecture brushing his thigh with her foot and didn't anticipate just how immediate the consequences would be >:)

I'm also toying with the idea of him fucking her on someone else's bed, specifically someone she used to hook up with 🤭 They locked the door, but suffice to say that guy knows who she belongs to after that.

#THANK YOU FOR THE QUESTIONS LOVEEE #keep em coming i could talk about these two all day #kneelingshadowsalome #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #könig mw2 #König x reader #konig x reader #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #mw2 #answered #fic: now playing #university au

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obsidiansarchive · 6 months

Note

Hello how are you? I hope you are good. I would like to make a request for Dazai, Chuuya along with any other characters you want to add with a Fem!Reader Weird? or paranoid? who is intelligent and creates emergency plans for almost everything (he actually makes elaborate plans for silly things like "what if... a dog stood up on two legs and talked to me?", "what if a ghost appears" and stuff like this) Feel free not to accept this request!

skeptic....

warnings ; nothing lol (not proofread)

obsidian; (dazai x f!reader), (chuuya x f!reader), (fyodor x f!reader)

notes: i'm doing fine! sorry this took so long, tysm for the request!

% - DAZAI_______________

Dazai is so love in with you, it's kind of scary. he's enamored with the way you move, the way you talk, and even the way you seem to question absolutely everything. He likes to joke about how you'll make a great detective but sometimes it actually worries him. He could make a joke and would be able to see the paranoia spark up in your eyes, most of the time though, he plays along with you, when you see a dog staring at you for too long and subsequently decide it's a skin walker, he'll deliberately feed into your delusions unless there hurting your health in any way. Most people think your clinically insane, but even Dazai can't question the fact that your incredibly smart. Most of the time your skeptism is backed by evidence that if anyone thought longer about would come to the same conclusion as you. Sometimes he has to use this against you if one of your theories take up too much of your time and is affecting your health. He'll pull up evidence of why your wrong and the actual answer to your question. He'll just have to hope with how smart you are, you'll listen.

%-CHUUYA______________

Chuuya, though doesn't look like it, is very smart. and he's very happy your intelligent as well. But the way you seem to think everyone who stands next to you for longer than ten seconds is stalking you doesn't put you in the brightest light. And of course, in front of other people he pretends to believe you, he would never embarrass you like that, if you said that you think the moon is secretly a camera because of all of its holes in front of somebody, he's backing you up with every crazy theory ever. Though when your alone, you have gotten into many arguments about your latest unusual speculation. None that have hurt your relationship but good lord, there have been so many arguments about whether the sun is going to explode next tuesday. Sometimes though, your skeptism spreads to chuuya, either while he's on a mission or just doing something in everyday life. He can be on a mission and see one of the members looking at his phone and think that he's secretly an alien planning to take over the world from the inside. Of course, he brushes off these thoughts very quickly, but they still show up. Like when he's making toast in the morning, and the toasters gets a little too red and now he's thinking it's about to catch on fire. Again, that's just how toasters work.

%-FYODOR________________

Fyodor thinks everything you do is cute even the way you make crazy theories about weird aliens is the most adorable thing ever. He likes to pretend like he believes you just so you can keep going on about your insane theories. He'll make sarcastic comments about your theory and ask even more ridiculous questions. Though if your latest theory starts affecting your health, he'll be quick to shut it down, not even giving you evidence on why you were wrong. He wouldn't even bring up the topic after that. But he would be the type to tease you, saying that if you weren't so crazy then you could really help him with this work. Of course, he doesn't think you're crazy, some of him thinks that this is just a running joke, and all of your theories are just you messing with him. If you were in front of people, he would unfortunately embarrass you. If you made a weird theory, he would, in front of everyone, debunk it with evidence and subsequently make you sound insane. He knows all of your theories are false but sometimes when he's alone, if he sees anything slightly abnormal, he'll think about all of the theories you would have made if you were there.

requests are encouraged <333

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #chuya x reader #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #obsidian.!.#fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #fyodor x reader

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archivalofsins · 4 months

Text

Let's talk about Mikoto's first two interrogation questions and why I'm super not interested or surprised by any of his answers. For the record so I don't have to go over all this again here is a post that links to a good chunk of what I've written discussing Mikoto already that I worked on with @apatchworkstar.

At least the big stuff. So, people can look back and see how my logic has developed over time when it comes to him specifically. Because I'm about to throw out some hard to swallow truths.

One being

Just because someone keeps claiming they were "Trying so hard." doesn't mean it's fucking true. Secondly, even if it is true that doesn't excuse or give them the right to murder anyone.

So, let's get libelous real quick and drag this drama kings name through the fucking mud.

Sorry, my liege you're getting a bit carried away~

Okay whoa, whoa- Wait, wait! I thought you liked Mikoto. Shouldn't you be happy people are taking his problems seriously and treating these issues with respect. I mean work abuse like any sort of abuse is bad.

Okay, point created to simply allow me to further elaborate on my own train of thought and where I'm at. Yes, I do care about and like Mikoto as a character. That does not mean I just accept when someone is feeding me bullshit.

Literally we've seen everyone else going to the places or doing the jobs that triggered the incident they were involved in. Mu has been at her school since Milgram started. Yuno has been shown working with her clients since Milgram started.

Kazui has been shown at the bar since Milgram started. Hell we've even seen Futa at his college.

Mikoto Kayano has not been shown at work or doing his job since Milgram started. There have only been allusions made to his work. The one image we have in Undercover isn't even confirmed to be his actual fucking office and could be a desk in his home that the chair in his mental space and home goes to. So, what evidence do we have that his job was difficult outside of texts he actively ignored that states he left without notice to go home and attempted to call him back in something he actively decided not to do or even respond to as is his right as a working adult?

We would actually have to make multiple assumptions in order to frame the instance we see there as abusive outside of damn that's an ungodly hour. Yet this man isn't fucking special some people work nights and he's stated he's meant to work nights since the beginning of fucking Milgram. That's a part of the company he decided he wanted to be in, chose to enter, and refused to leave.

Trial one written interrogation question six.

Q.06 What do you hate? Mikoto: working overnight / reptiles / violence

He's worked overnight enough to fucking know he hates it but-

Trial two written interrogation question two.

Q.02 Haven't you considered changing your job? Mikoto: No way; I went through a lot to get into such a big company. Even if it's draining, if I work hard my efforts will pay off.

Something he's had no issue stating from the beginning. From the start of Milgram Mikoto's concern has been I better not get fired because of you and if I do you better take responsibility for it. One of his voice lines from the beginning of this literally being-

Mikoto first voice drama 3:46

"I have my own life, you know? And I just got accepted into the company that I was aiming for… If I get fired, you’ll have to take responsibility for that."

From the beginning, through everything he's done and said Mikoto has shown where his priorities lie. It's not with getting home or seeing his family like the rest of the prisoners. No, his priority has always been getting the hell out of here and back to his job because his life plans have been derailed enough. Because his life wasn't meant to be this way and he has things he needs to do to get the life he believes he's entitled to.

Going to his job regardless of how draining or terrible it looks from an outsider's perspective is and always has been a part of and the biggest part of his life plan. He never trash talks his company for how it treats him despite bringing it up in both his written interrogations.

In fact, it's the exact opposite.

Written interrogation one question eight.

Q.08 What’s the most rewarding part of your current job? Mikoto: I mean, it’s the top advertising agency in the industry?Anyone would be proud to be a part of it. I put a lot of work in just to get here, too.

Even framing it like a question like are you stupid- Do you live under a fucking rock??? Is that it? it's the top advertising agency in the fucking industry.

Are you daft warden-

What's more important than the status and recognition one implicitly gets from being able to work in a company like that? If this place is in my work history and I manage to go freelance later on, in good standing with this company, do you know how liberating that would be. Do you know how quickly people would have faith in me to do what they were hiring me for with this place as a reference-

I mean.

Q.04 Are you picky when it comes to fashion? Mikoto: Of course I am. Nobody would want to ask for anything from an unfashionable designer, right?

I'm fucking tailor-made for business. I live breath and eat this shit because I fucking need to. Because it's a stepping stone for my dream. You wouldn't want to get in the way of that, right~ Oh, that's unlikable I don't fucking care if there's a corporate ladder I'm going to fucking climb it. Survival of the fittest and all that. Though it's improper to admit that as a working adult, you know? If you can't communicate properly that's bad for business.

You can't, for example, go around being angry all the time even if you want to. You've gotta be able to play ball and take a few punches to get anywhere in this world. How do you expect people to want to work with you otherwise?

20/06/15 Mikoto: Hey, it’s kinda a bother having you be so angry and tense all the time. You should stop trying get everyone to pay attention to you. You’re a uni student, right? You can’t act like that once you start working properly. Futa: Huh!? Shut up. Not like I care what you say. Even though we’re in this shitty situation, you’re just chatting away, it’s stupid. Aren’t you the one who’s acting out of place here? ……also the fact you give everyone nicknames is just gross. Mikoto: *sigh* It’s more stupid to be taking this all so seriously. I mean, it’s definitely just a reality TV program. There’s no way a real prison exists that’s this lax. Also, I don’t give nicknames to everyone. I don’t give them to young kids like Amane, or to the hard-to-approach types like Shidou-san. I mean, I’m not giving you one, right? Futa: ……oi, which group are you trying to say I am?

It doesn't matter if your kindness is genuine or not. As long as you're able to close that gap and make people like you then you can sell them anything. It'll pay off eventually you know. Though it's better to do anything you can to make that eventually sooner rather than later~

20/05/25 Mikoto: ……I’ve really got caught up in some trouble, huh. What even is this place? It’s probably a TV reality show or something. ……but to think someone in this day and age would try to do a project that could land them in so much trouble. Uh…… Mahiru: Ah…… I’m Shina Mahiru! You can just call me Mahiru. And you are……? Mikoto: Kayano Mikoto. I’m fine with just Mikoto too. Ahh, I’m glad there’s someone here who’s easy to talk to…… It’s nice to meet you, Mappy. Mahiru: ………… ……Mappy???

Mikoto trial one written interrogation question nine.

Q.09 Why do you give everyone nicknames? Mikoto: I guess it became a habit when I was at university. Having a nickname for someone that only you call them comes with a lot of advantages, do recommend.

As long as you can sell it with a smile they'll warm up eventually. Yet, being disliked by certain people can be social and career suicide you know~

20/07/08 Yuno: Hey, Mikoto-san. Don’t you get tired being so conscious of others all the time? I mean, you’re free to do what you want though. Mikoto: Eh…… Aha, what are you talking about? I’m not being conscious or anything. It’s normal to make sure to get along with everyone, right? I mean, when you put it like that, aren’t you the same, Yun-chan? You’re always smiling and getting on with everyone too. Yuno: I don’t smile unless I actually want to. But with you, when you’re talking with other people it’s more like you only smile deliberately. So I kept thinking, don’t your cheeks get tired? Ah, is this just what happens when you become a working adult? ……you see people like that sometimes. Mikoto: Haha, you don’t mince your words do you. …….that was never my intention, but now that you mention it, yeah, I guess I do. This might’ve been since I started my job too…… But like- If I was rude to everyone I met, all my efforts would come to nothing, right?

Yuno trial one voice drama 7:59

"Hm, what this? A lecture. Are you a believer in seishinron? I hate them more than anything else, you know?"

Basically, someone who believes that any problem can be worked through by just putting in a bit more effort.

"If I work hard my efforts will pay off."

Ha, ha- Not everyone has the privilege to smile whenever they feel like it. Some people's entire futures are riding on if the people around them decide to play nice or not and it all rides on them to play nice first- You know? Maybe that is what they call being a working adult. Maybe people like this just don't understand. Is it difficult to comprehend~ Huh, is this hard for you warden?

Well, you were given a pretty cushiony job out of the blue. It must be oddly comfortable for you. Judging others from your position and then sleeping for several months. They even provide you three meals a day while I can barely get a lunch break- Ah, jealous~

Guards, just-

"Come to know me as an honest man."

See me as someone hardworking and family oriented. See me as someone trying to show those he cares about that they can do these things too-

Q.01 Do you have a good relationship with your little sister? Mikoto: Absolutely. I want to show her how her big brother is working hard in the city.

See me as a man that believes in the myth of meritocracy. Someone who believes if they just work hard enough, if I push myself a little more regardless of how I'm treated it'll work out eventually. All of my efforts will be rewarded because they deserve to be. That's how these things should go. So, society should recognize and reward those who do good work consistently.

Not just people they find likable or easy to talk to. My work should be able to speak for itself. So, if I just keep working it'll all come together but I can't do that while being held here. How can I achieve my dreams if I can't even get to work huh? What happens if i get fired while here I have a life to you know-

I've been working so much- I had such a hard time. I've even played along with this silly joke- I've been such a good sport, right? Right? So- why tell me why can't you just be a good sport back? Aren't I entitled to a little bit of leniency? I'm a victim here too, ya know! So, why?

Tell me WHY-

It’s the same anywhere I go! It’s like what’s WRONG isn’t WRONG!/ "Why, why-"

"If only I were never born, if only..."/ "If I was gone, If I had just disappeared..."

20/05/31 Mu: Hey, Mikoto-kun, aren’t you scared of this place……? You can’t think of any reason you ended up here, right……? Mikoto: Ahh, yeah. Of course, it’s not like I’m not scared at all. But just between you and me…… I still haven’t dropped the thought that this could all just be a TV show. I mean, I really haven’t ever murdered anyone. ……and if that is the case, we’re definitely being monitored. For like a prank setup or something. Wouldn’t it be super uncool and embarrassing to get angry or lash and have it shown on prime time? Mu: Is that what you think……? A prank, huh…… I hope that’s all it is…… Mikoto: Ah! If that is the case, then you’ll probably be super popular since you’re so cute, Mucchan! There’s a lot of girls out there who make their big break coming off reality shows like that!

Mikoto trial one written interrogation question 3.

Q.03 Have you ever had a romantic partner? Mikoto: Of course I have. Do I really look like I’d be that unpopular?

"Hey now, I saved you, right? So why in the hell are you crying?"/ "Why won’t you stop hurting me? My heart is all dried up. My sorry spells must be wearing off."

"I can't take it anymore..."/ "Why?"

"Why, why, I’m so sorry."/ " “I’m sorry” won’t reach anyone."

Just-

"If I am a bad girl don’t hate me."/"Come to know me as an honest man, eat your words, gulp them down."

It must be a tad embarrassing to fall for the same trick twice in the same series.

Hold on. It’s not my fault- You knew it, right?

Guards, you must be working really hard. It's difficult to figure out under so much pressure with so little time. I mean you only had all of trial one and the three months after Double.

"Hurting it, holding it down, it doesn’t change anything, does it- Ahhh!"

"I was miserable, someone please help me."/ "I was having such a hard time."

"I want to feel “alive”, is it ok if I breathe?"/ "All I did was dream, and that’s what you found GUILTY?"

“I” will save “me”.

It's no one fault really~

So, why don't we just all get along for now? Like working adults. No one has to judge anyone here. Let's all just get along!

Mikoto first voice drama 3:10

Milgram tells me that you killed someone. That's enough for me. "Why are you just blindly believing that? There's no getting through to you...!"

Muu's second voice drama 14:56

"Anyway… I think you would do good to forgive me. Then Haruka-kun will be safe too. Ah, actually, couldn’t you just forgive everyone? Then Kotoko-san won’t run amok, and you won’t have to think about all the difficult stuff."

But I guess some of it is my fault. Maybe it’s ok as it is./I'm probably not to blame. It's probably nothing. I'm probably just having a bad dream, I need to wake up soon.

The interesting thing about both Mikoto and Es' behavior is that they both blindly believe in systems that leave them very little to no protection or are actively exploiting them. They both believe their jobs to be their salvation. That if they just keep working it'll all turn out right.

That if they just do their jobs without question everything will work itself out. That the only way out is through. Es all of trial two has rationalized the results of trial one by saying they were just doing their job. Following what they were told. How is that any different from Mikoto. How is that any different from Amane?

Everyone needs something to believe in from day to day. Something that allows them to feel secure in their own position and feel as if they have some control over their lives even if in reality they have very little.

People need beliefs to tell them how to function in systems. Yet those beliefs can end up protecting systems from deserved scrutiny. In a way making people complacent in them or leading to them perpetuating these systems without question. Because when people are trying to keep themselves from going under they don't have time to question the powers that put them in the position to go under to beging with.

When you're drowning everything looks like a lifepreserver even the things that will make a person sink faster. People use the beliefs that they cultivate over the course of their lives to rationalize if the treatment they're receiving is correct or not-

It must be a mistake right?

To tell them if their own response to something was justified or not.

"Eat this! Don’t act like you have no idea! We won’t forgive you! You’re the crazy one! Ban-Ba-Bang!"/"If you’re going to break your vow- Here and now, it’s my turn to tear you apart. So there is no second time, I’ll give back the judgment that you gave to me."

Something that makes them feel like their decisions were the right ones,

"What am I supposed to do now? If you won’t tell me, I can’t be me."/ "Maybe, perhaps... or... could it come true... like- It’s for the sake of true love, who wouldn’t lie for that?"

Something that tells them-

It's not my fault.

#milgram #mikoto kayano

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c-nstantine · 1 year

Text

The Many Entanglements of Y/N Wayne

Warnings: References to sex and threesomes, cursing, a dash of himbo Dick

Description: Y/N enlists in her brother's help with keeping her entanglements away from Bruce.

Word Count: 0.6k

Y/N walked into her eldest brother's room with only fifteen minutes before guests started to arrive at Wayne Manor. The annual Justice League Gala was always a site to be seen. Of course, Y/N looked like a heavenly sight with her burgundy gown and the crystal jewelry she dawned on.

"I'm going to tell you something but you can't get mad," She spoke as Dick checked himself out in the full-length mirror.

"Make it quick, my hair isn't cooperating," Dick pulled a small comb from his back pocket and ran it through his forming mullet. Y/N dodged as he reached for his hairspray.

"There are like five guys I need you not to let Bruce see me with tonight," Y/N did not have any time to waste. There was a reason that she waited until the last minute for anyone to know about her adventures with the Justice League, and Dick should be the last person to judge her.

"Huh," Dick scrunched his eyebrows as he turned to face his sister.

"Well, five guys and a girl," Y/N elaborated while touching up her lip gloss in her brother's mirror.

"Why would you want Bruce not to see you with those people? It's just the annual Justice Leag- You slept with SIX people from the Justice League," It was a good thing Dick had his looks because Y/N was sure the hairspray was killing his brain cells.

"You said you wouldn't get mad," Y/N whined a little.

"I never said that," Dick defended and technically he wasn't mad. He was just mildly confused about how his sister managed to sleep with six Justice League members and have no one know, especially Bruce.

"I thought this was a safe place. I was mistaken," Y/N figured since Dick has had his own entanglements then he would be a bit more understanding.

"Wait, who is it?" Dick asked right before Y/N reached for his door handle.

"What?"Y/N's eyes widened at the prospect that he might help her.

"Who am I supposed to keep Bruce away from?" She was his little sister after all. He'd help her and he was sure Alfred would kill someone if something bad happened at this gala.

"Hal Jordan," Y/N admitted. She had no regrets about what she had slept with but there was no doubt that Hal would be the one who piss off Bruce the most.

"Eww," Dick thought his sister had higher standards than the Green Lantern, who had been around a few air bases.

"Barry Allen," Y/N had fond memories with Barry. He was one of the sweetest guys that she had ever had the pleasure of meeting.

"Oh okay, that would be cute," He could see Barry and Y/N together. He actually liked Barry for his sister but God knows who else is on this list.

"Ted Kord and Michael Carter," Y/N spoke and looked to her brother for a reaction.

"Who the hell is Michael Carter?" Dick said a little too loudly and Y/N hit his shoulder.

"Booster Gold," Y/N winced slightly as she said his name in preparation for her brother's reaction.

"Wait, why did you say their names together?" Dick rubbed his shoulder as he asked his question.

" 'Cause I did them together," Y/N didn't know how else she was supposed to say that. She did think that there was a more tactful way to say that but time was winding down and she didn't have time for formalities.

"Who's left?" Dick sighed into his hand as he sat on his bed.

"John and Zatanna," Y/N was happy to be done listing out her sexual escapades.

"You didn't," Dick was in disbelief.

"I did, "Y/N spoke with a smile on her lips.

"I'll help, but when shit hits the fan, I want a recording of Bruce's reaction," Dick said adjusting his tie and reaching out his hand for his sister to shake it.

"Deal, "Y/N took his hand into her own and smiled. Somehow Dick felt like he was making a deal with the devil.

#x black reader #x black!reader #black reader #black!reader #x black!batsis #black!batsis #spoiled black!batsis #spoiled!batsis #dick grayson x black!reader #c-nstantine

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delulu-dekarios · 1 month

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My thoughts on Gales proposal:

So I'm honestly not a very big fan of Gales proposal. It seems really weird for him to just spring the question on you with none of his usual romantic and magic flare. Just casually asking if you'll be a part of the Dekarios clan. And he basically doesn't even ask you. You have to ask him if that's what he's asking, and then he goes "yeah I suppose so". Which makes me believe:

A. He wasn't planning on proposing to you then. When he was asking if you'd join the Dekarios clan, it was a casual question. He was like will you come live with me and be integrated into my family. But not like in the married way yet. Just by being committed, significant others who live together. But because you (the player) asks him if that's what he's asking he's like, "Oh my god wait, you will marry me? Then yeah we can get married"

It wasn't his plan to propose then and there. That was sprung on him as much as it was on you. But he loves you and does want to get married to you and therefore says yes he is proposing and THEN gets down on one knee to like make it a real proposal, at least in some way.

B. You guys just survived defeating the netherbrain. No less then 24 hours ago he thought he was going to die. Or perhaps you were going to die. Or everyone on the sword coast was going to die. But you didn't, you somehow all survived and you have "a thousand more days ahead of you". And that has made him realize that he doesn't want to wait for even a moment. He loves you and he gets a chance at life and he wants to spend the rest of it with you. And so I don't really think he was thinking about making the proposal elaborate and romantic and magical. He was just thinking about you and how much he loves you and how he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

This makes even more sense to me because I remember watching the news one time after a shooting had happened in my town, and the survivors were being interviewed and they said that they had agreed to marry each other while hiding from the shooter. Because that situation made them realize how short and precious life is and how you shouldn't waste a moment. So Gale coming from the most harrowing and life threatening experience of his life, to wake up next to the person who he loves more than anyone or anything he has ever loved in his life, I think it makes sense that he would just blurt it out that he wants to marry you. Even if it is a little out of character for him and his usual over the top romantic gestures.

So while I'm not super happy with the proposal that we got, as I would have loved to see whatever elaborate, magical thing Gale could come up with to both woo and wow us, I understand why it wasn't like that. And I know that probably what happened was the writers at larian weren't super thinking about it when they wrote that, and they just kind of got lazy, but that's personally how I justify Gales proposal.

#sorry for my rant i was just thinking about this #im not even sure if all of this makes sense but its whatever #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale

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animeomegas · 1 year

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What if the alpha in MHA isn't a hero or famous person in general? And they met their omega when they already are an adult. How would the omega show their alpha to the paparazzi? OR MAYBE they try to hide their private life?

Oooh, interesting!

Keeps his alpha as far away from the paparazzi as possible. Never mentions anything in interviews, only picks dates at home or places you won't be disturbed, either no or heavily edited social media

Bakugou, for sure. The world knows he has an alpha that he's committed to, and they probably know what the alpha looks like, but that's it. It's his business, no one else's.

Shinsou. He's an underground hero, so he doesn't mess with paparazzi at all. For his and his alpha's safety, they both keep a very low profile.

Aizawa for much the same reasons as above.

Toshinori (post-retirement) loves to keep his relationship and family as lowkey as possible. He doesn't want any media outlet to know he's even mated. It's too risky for their safety, but also, he thrives being Toshinori, not All Might, in his own home and he doesn't want those lines to start blending.

Tamaki clams up when the public start prying into his personal life.

Finds a happy medium. Likes to brag about and post photos of their alpha sometimes, but still enjoys the privacy that comes come keeping strict boundaries.

Midoriya falls into this category, for sure. As number one, keeping his alpha a secret would be near impossible, so instead he tries to maintain healthy boundaries. He enjoys gushing over his partner in interview and getting fan art with his alpha in it, so he likes this balance.

Mic. I know it might seem like he should go in the 'no privacy' category, but I actually think that Mic is really good at saying a lot, but also not saying anything at all. Like he gushes about his partner all the time on the radio, but when you go to the partner section of his wiki, it's surprisingly empty, because he keeps a lot of information to his chest. It helps that he doesn't get recognised much when he's out of costume too.

I think Iida falls here too. His whole family are famous heroes and I think his PR team at the very least would play on that a lot with an active (but well curated) social media about Iida's life. Fancy events, birthdays, family gatherings, things like that, so his alpha would definitely pop up. He like to keep interviews on his heroics though.

Never stops talking about their alpha for even a moment. Constant pictures, videos, social media all the time, interviewers kind of end up hating their alpha because they can't get the hero in question to tal about anything else.

Denki, of course, is anyone surprised? His relationship is only one step away from being a YouTube couple lmaoo. He gushes and talks about his alpha, he gets caught with hickeys, he posts lovey dovey photos of lazy mornings and fancy dinners. The world is very invested in the 'couple goals'.

Kirishima slips into this category because he thanks his alpha for their support in every interview and lavishes them with praise about how supportive and amazing they are. He's also the kind of person to give out relationship advice to his fans lol. It's not as non-stop as Denki, but everyone knows about his alpha.

Mirio would 100% have the 'golden couple' image attached to him. Him and his partner are couple goals, but in a different way to Denki. Denki and his alpha are relatable, but Mirio's relationship is perfect (to outsiders.) I'm talking charity appearances together, pictures of their elaborate proposal and wedding, wholesome pet pictures, the whole works.

#bnha #mha #omegaverse #a/b/o #hcs #headcanons #x reader #mirio #kirishima #denki #midoriya #bakugou

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actual-changeling · 2 months

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Hey there Alex! So, I've loved your content for a bit of a while now and your explanations/insight really gives a lot of clarity to people who either might not understand certain points about Good Omens, need a reality check, or may have missed something. You've also really helped me stop being so shy about my love and defense for Crowley in response to Azi apologists weaponizing his trauma as excuses for the way he treats him.

Anyways! I don't know if you've talked about it before, I think you mentioned it briefly in passing but could you possibly go more in depth about the scene in s2 between them about the Bentley situation. The first time I watched the scene, I remember thinking it was so adorable how Crowley trusted Aziraphale enough with his car and how Azi changed the color of it. However, there was always.... something! Idk that struck me the wrong way and you realize upon watching it again that it wasn't as straight forward at at. I'd like your opinion, since I feel it really plays into that constant dynamic of Crowley being uncomfortable for Aziraphale's sake once again.

Do you think he was actually okay with it in the end?

Why did Azi choose this rather than by train?

Does the Bentley truly like the Angel?

If Crowley is connected to the Bentley, how come he doesn't seem to realize when Shax was in it with Aziraphale?

Thank you, that's really nice to hear! I'm glad that my posts have been helpful in a number of ways 💚

Now, I have THOUGHTS on the Bentley scene, excellent questions!

It is another one of those moments that seems sweet on the surface but is actually deeply uncomfortable to watch once you look past that. Let's start with the easy ones and then work our way through the scene in chronological order.

Why did Azi choose this rather than by train?

Aziraphale is basically roleplaying at this point. His weird obsession with his "Clue" has turned into a performance similar to his horrible magic acts; his facial expressions and body language change and become more theatrical when he talks to Crowley about it. At this point, he has probably already decided that he will pretend to be a journalist for no other reason than fun. Driving a car instead of going by train is presumably a part of that, it's an elaborate fantasy he's trying to live out—similar to the ball later on.

We have to keep in mind that while Crowley is aware of the gravity of the situation, Aziraphale is actively choosing to ignore it. Going to Edinburgh for fun is a horrible idea considering the danger they're in, but Aziraphale does not care.

Does the Bentley truly like the Angel?

I think the Bentley likes him exactly as much as Crowley likes him, simple answer but tbh that's really it.

Do you think he was actually okay with it in the end?

Now, the one million pound question: Did Crowley willingly give him the Bentley or did Aziraphale coerce him into doing so? Before we answer this one, there are some more things to consider.

Firstly, the circumstances.

With Shax in his flat and Jimbriel in the bookshop, Crowley has exactly one safe place left: the Bentley. It is HIS, it is mobile, it does not belong to anyone else, and he has a connection to it, meaning that he protects the Bentley but the Bentley also protects him.

We saw Crowley's intense reaction to Gabriel's presence, and it's not 'funny' or 'dramatic', it is Crowley being deeply traumatized by heaven, his fall, and the trial, and there's a very high chance Gabriel was involved in his fall, too. What Aziraphale is essentially demanding of him the entire season is that he locks himself in close quarters with his abuser, who can literally kill him on the spot.

Crowley is fucking terrified, he cannot sleep, he is hypervigilant and even more paranoid than usual, his mood swings get worse, he is a mess—and Aziraphale does not take any of his concerns, emotions, or needs seriously.

Secondly, past experiences and boundaries.

Whenever Aziraphale needs a lift, Crowley is happy to provide one, he enjoys driving him around. Emphasis on him being the driver. Aziraphale has not once driven the Bentley, and it is safe to assume that Crowley has never once OFFERED that he could drive it. That alone should be enough for Aziraphale to not ask that question in the first place, but it isn't.

It also means that Crowley does not expect the question and—when probably at some point asking himself the question whether he'd be okay with Aziraphale driving it—decided he does not want anyone but himself in the driver's seat.

So how does Crowley react when Aziraphale demands the keys to the Bentley?

Oh right, yeah, let's actually talk about that first. He does not ask.

Aziraphale does not ask. I cannot overstate how important it is that he does not ask Crowley if he can drive the Bentley. This is how their conversation goes:

There is no question. "I will take the car" is Aziraphale informing Crowley of a decision he has already made without consulting him—wow, I wonder when that will become relevant again?

final fifteen *cough*

Before he asked, Crowley was rather relaxed (or as relaxed as he can possibly be in his situation), but that changes immediately.

First picture is when he asks Aziraphale about what time his train is, the other two are when he says 'what car'.

His back straightens, his shoulders tighten and freeze, he snaps his jaw shut and grinds his teeth, chin up, mouth lips pressed together—I interpret this as initial panic plus a spark of anger over "our car".

Crowley denies Aziraphale ownership of the Bentley, saying that no, there is no "our" car, this is MY car. It is clear, simple boundary, but Aziraphale went into this conversation having already decided that he will take the car, no matter what Crowley thinks about it.

While he might sound all cheery and excited, look at his body and the expression on his face. That smile is fake, it's bordering on angry, and it is sending a very clear message to Crowley: I want this car and you will give it to me. Once again, my way or the highway.

Bringing up the bookshop is him trying to "out-logic" Crowley, but it does not work because

a) Crowley very much does not consider the bookshop to be "theirs"

b) even if he had, the bookshop is no longer a safe place because of Jimbriel

c) Aziraphale KICKED HIM OUT of the bookshop in the first episode, establishing that Crowley is a guest and nothing more.

He then intentionally misinterprets Crowley saying that he "can't drive [his] Bentley" and mentions his license. Again, entirely irrelevant because that is not even remotely the problem.

Throughout their conversation, Crowley becomes more and more uncomfortable and panicked. This is not a squabble or banter, this is Crowley trying to protect the one thing he has left and Aziraphale not giving a fuck.

Now, the REAL banger here is that after pushing Crowley this far, he then suddenly dumps the rest of his "decision" on him: stay with a person that has severely harmed you, alone, without a way of escaping. This is where Crowley grows from panicked and angry to genuinely frightened.

He stops Aziraphale from touching it—rightfully so—and then reaches out himself to calm himself; it is right there, my car is right next to me, it's okay. Aziraphale ignored all of his attempts to set and enforce boundaries, ignored his panic and emotional state, ignored what Crowley was telling him, ignored everything Crowley told him BEFORE, and keeps pushing pushing pushing until the very end.

So to circle back to your question, no, Crowley is absolutely not fine with Aziraphale taking the car by the end; he fights him right up until the moment he begrudgingly gives him the keys.

It is a very good example of their current relationship dynamic, and personally it actually hurts to watch it happen. Anyone who has gone through trauma around privacy, safety, and personal effects knows how terrifying and traumatizing it is to have your boundaries repeatedly violated like that.

Aziraphale is being manipulative and coercing Crowley into doing what he wants; it's fucked up, and this doesn't even begin to deal with happens later.

If Crowley is connected to the Bentley, how come he doesn't seem to realize when Shax was in it with Aziraphale?

Maybe he did but did not really care because Shax has been in the Bentley before (just like Beez), maybe he is too distracted by Jimbriel and potentially being murdered in his sleep to pay much attention to Aziraphale on his way back.

Maybe he DID notice since he does ask Aziraphale if something happened, and then once again makes the mistake of trusting him when he denies it.

Without more information I can only speculate, but, personally, I think Shax being in the Bentley was not too big of a deal for Crowley even if he noticed it.

As always, if anyone has follow-up question, feel free to ask!

#alex answers asks #alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the bentley #good omens meta #alex's unhinged meta corner #good omens thoughts

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alagaesia-headcanons · 7 months

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I'll never get enough of the AUs where Murtagh in some way, at some point ends up in Carvahall instead of Uru'baen. There are so many potential variations of how he gets there and who he stays with and even the little differences have some really fun effects. I'm especially intrigued by the idea of Murtagh growing up there while still clearly remembering Morzan and his dragon and where he came from. I think it makes for an interesting counterpoint to canon where Murtagh can't escape his past and his father's legacy because that's what everyone sees in him. Instead, in Carvahall, his past becomes such a dangerous taboo that it can't even be acknowledged, much less focused on. Rather than his past restricting him in its grasp, it keeps sliding out of his own grasp, defying all his efforts to understand what it means for him and what everyone else might feel about it. Black and blue eyes and gleaming red scales haunt his dreams, but he has to swallow those memories down every time.

Assuming Murtagh grows up with Garrow and Marian, when he first arrives with all his fear, he's determined to never breath a word about any of that. But he gets older and starts to second guess that resolve- Eragon aches to know who his father is and Murtagh hates lying to him. He deserves to eventually know the truth (what Murtagh thinks is true, that is), even if it's painful. And it gnaws at Murtagh's own heart to wonder if his family would accept him if they knew, or if the only thing perpetuating his acceptance is their ignorance. At night, he tosses and turns wondering if he's turning out just like his father, a question he can never answer because he has no reference of Morzan beyond his own dim, scattered memories.

One of my favorite AUs like this that exist inside my brain follows that track and actually stays very close to canon. Murtagh grows up alongside Eragon, and plans to tell him about his past when he turns 16, but before that, the Ra'zac arrive and he's tortured as well as Garrow. He pulls through only to discover Eragon vanished with Brom and he goes to track them down, eventually saving them when they're the ones at the Ra'zac's mercy. Then when he's kidnapped and enslaved, there's so much more heartbreak and guilt because he's pitted against everyone he grew up with and cares for. And maybe Brom gets to live so there can be a reckoning when Murtagh does tell Eragon what he believes about their parentage, following him as he struggles for the courage to face his son and tries to find any way to help his step son, before it's all too late.

For something that goes quite differently, I've been thinking through an AU where both Selena and Morzan live. Selena fakes Murtagh's death to disguise her stealing him away and she and Brom raise him and Eragon in Carvahall. They love and protect them fiercely and the boys grow up safe and happy, but whenever Murtagh tries to ask about the things that happened before, they swiftly shut him down and dissuade him from ever mentioning it out of their own fear of the past. It leaves him feeling out of place and fragmentary. And that comes at a cost when Morzan appears, under orders to search for the egg. Murtagh has to hurriedly figure out what he was never able to, now with so much danger hanging in the balance, because no matter how Morzan could want to treat him, that might not matter against the king's orders. And Selena and Brom have to confront their own snarled relationships with Morzan that were never truly laid to rest. (It also caters to my desire to jerry rig the three of them into a very messy and emotionally charged polycule.)

In that one, I build something more redeemable into Morzan's character (soon I definitely plan to elaborate on why I find that a fascinating angle to take with him). I don't know if anyone would want it, but I wrote a drabble for that AU when Murtagh first sees Morzan again, and I could brush it up and post it. [EDIT: here's the fic] I just love the idea of small town farm boy Murtagh who's peaceful and amiable and also just a little bit off. Like maybe sending the guy who dreams each night about blood red swords and dragon's snapping fangs to go plow fields won't last forever.

#lemme know if you want that drabble i guess #eragon #inheritance cycle #murtagh #morzan #and others #im just rambling today #a lot of similar aus have murtagh become a rider also on the vardens side #which is fun #but i like the idea of him still being dragged into the empire and the far different emotional strife it would cause #or not having thorn at all during that time and having to navigate himself by himself

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nothinggold13 · 7 months

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I said in the tags of my recent screencaps of Nick and Daisy dancing, "do you ever think. that all daisy really needed was a friend?" and apparently those tags resonated with more people than I thought they would. Now I think they call for a little elaboration.

On their first meeting in the book, it is established that Nick neither attended Daisy's wedding nor met her baby (who is 3 years old). Daisy says herself, "We don't know each other very well, Nick. Even if we are cousins." And yet in this same scene Daisy says that his arrival has her "paralyzed with happiness" and refers to him as "an absolute rose." She speaks of him and to him as if they are dearly close despite her own admittance that they hardly know each other at all. (Of course, this is easily explained when Nick says, "[She looked] up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had." Daisy has a way of drawing people in, and making them feel important. I'm sure people make different things of this, some positive and some negative, but I won't dwell on it.)

But, perhaps more telling than the way she talks to Nick, is the fact that the first thing Daisy does when she has a moment alone with him is to confide in him. She says, "We don't know each other very well," and then, moments later, begins a story asking, "Would you like to hear?" She says she's grown cynical. She says she felt abandoned. She says — famously — "That's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool."

And then she laughs it off.

Nick himself calls it insincere, "[...]as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me."

But... I don't know. I've been a Daisy defender since high school, and that's never gone away; Nick's perspective may communicate a lot of truth that we wouldn't know otherwise, but he is not infallible. And, personally, when it comes to the depths of what's going on with Daisy, I think he's rather blind.

Daisy has a philandering husband who a) physically abuses his mistress and b) canonically bruised Daisy in a way she brushes off carelessly but confesses, again, within her first meeting with Nick, so I don't believe it's a big jump to say he's likely been physically abusive towards her, too. And with that in mind, I think it's strange to expect anything Daisy does to be perfectly and infallibly sincere, when, at her core, she is always in a fight for survival.

(It's the same reason I believe she stays with Tom at the end, and lets Gatsby take the blame. Tom is the only security she knows. Gatsby hangs in the balance. She can't run away with him, now.)

So, to get back to my point, I don't think Daisy was being dishonest in her confessions to Nick. I think she was being painfully honest— so painful, in fact, that she had to cover it up with that cynical mask she's gotten so good at wearing. Daisy is not a beautiful little fool; she only wishes she was.

And then Nick appears, and they're not close, but they could be, and she jumps to trust him: to tell him everything she's scared to say aloud: to have him listen. "Would you like to hear?" she asks. It's more than a question. It's a plea.

I think of Daisy knowing her driver's name, and thinking it important to use it. I think of Daisy knowing Jordan's name when they were younger, when Jordan was two years her junior and admired her desperately. I think of Daisy calling Nick "my dearest one" along with every other kind word she ever said to him. I think of Daisy reaching and reaching and reaching, clinging desperately to anyone who might hold on to her.

And they all let her down.

I guess those who see Daisy as disingenuous at her core wouldn't read it this way at all, but I do. I think Daisy loves desperately, trying to fill a hole that is never filled; I think she's looking for someone to save her, and nobody ever cares enough to listen.

Not Jordan. Not Nick. Not even Gatsby, despite his obsession.

And maybe none of them could have saved her, but they could have listened. They could have cared. They could have asked her about the letter that made her nearly call off her wedding to Tom, instead of dressing her up and pushing her to go through with it. They could've supported her, and not gone out to party with her cheating husband and his mistress. They could've stopped asking for too much and accepted the fact she couldn't give it. They could've done something.

Because all Daisy really needed was a friend. And she never truly had one.

#thanks a lot folks now I'm back in my Daisy feels #the great gatsby #daisy buchanan #nick carraway #jordan baker #jay gatsby #tom buchanan #I just think that Daisy and Nick's friendship could've been something #that he could've offered her something #she never could've gotten from Tom or Gatsby #and my heart hurts about it #shoutout to the girl in my english class who accused me of rooting for the villains because I felt for daisy #tom literally exists but yeah let's blame the victim

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jo-harrington · 10 months

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As Above, So Below - Prologue: Annunciation

Prequels: Heaven - Hell - Purgatory

Summary: Burdened by a centuries-long curse, you must follow the path fate has set for you and defeat evil that roams the Earth. You've left everything your heart desires behind to follow this path, and unfortunately, it still isn't enough. Fate has other plans for you, and for your love, Eddie Munson.

Word Count: 6.9k (nice)

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!OC (Told in 2nd Person POV - you/your)

Warnings/Themes: Violence, Death/Suicide, Torture, Body Horror, Blood, Established Relationship, Romance, Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: Welcome to As Above, So Below, my take on Kas!Eddie fic and a story inspired by Van Helsing (2004). This story has 3 prequels linked above that I highly recommend you read as this story will reference them.

This story is going to be EXTREMELY HEAVY to write, so I will not be putting out a posting schedule. Chapters will get posted as they are completed, however long that takes.

Please keep in mind, although this is an OC fic, our Knight will not be named or have physical descriptions noted. She is of European/Italian-American descent on her father's side. She was raised Roman Catholic, but her beliefs are very loose and you will see why if you read. You are free to imagine her as you wish. But her cultural identity will be referenced in this story, at least at the beginning and the end.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“Do not be afraid […] for you have found favor with God […] With God, nothing will be impossible.” — Luke 1:28-37

March 25th, 1986

In your short time on this earth, you had certainly seen a lot. Mysteries of the universe were made known to you, you'd encountered heroes and villains alike—monsters, even—and been to many places, far and wide.

But you could honestly say that you had never set foot in a lair before today.

And, truly, lair was the only word you could use to describe this place.

Vaulted ceilings, marble floors, velvet curtains. There was an elaborate organ set up on a platform and an ominous set of stairs that descended deeper into the ground at the far end of the room.

Eddie would say this looked like something out of a C-list horror movie or a James Bond film.

You were already deep enough as it was; you'd navigated through an abandoned old mansion and the Los Angeles County sewer system just to get here. To anyone else, it would have seemed as though it took some divine intervention to find this place at all, but the divine is what you knew best.

Archbishop Jinette had given you minimal information to stop the evil that was at play. A ritual to bring forth a River of Life that would flood the San Gabriel Valley and kill millions. More importantly, to Jinette at least, it would create a rift in the fabric of reality that would cause a surge of Heavenly Power to flow freely throughout the Earth.

The Church never cared about the details, didn't care if a sacrifice or two came about, as long as their power remained safe. So the Who's and How's and Why's were left up to you. Thankfully your adversary had been careless with the clues he left behind.

You couldn't tell if it was a coincidence or not. Easter was a few days away so a River of Life made sense but surely a ritual that mirrored the ten plagues of Egypt would be more fitting a little closer to Passover.

"Doctor," you called out, your voice echoed through the cavernous room. You gripped your weapon—a nightstick taken off the body of the police officer that had been swarmed by locusts—and ventured forwards. "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm here to help."

"You are not here to help," a stiff, croaking, disembodied voice reached your ears, filtered through some sort of unseen sound system. "You're here to stop me."

"Stop you from killing anymore innocent people," you explained.

"One remains," the voice replied. "Nine shall die. Nine eternities in doom."

"It will be a lot more than that if you don't stop whatever it is you have planned." You tried to reason with him, but you were met with silence. "Doctor! Doctor Phibes!"

Music suddenly blasted through the sound system and the room went dark, the only source of light came from whatever lay at the bottom of the stairs.

You knew the doctor wasn't done talking, he was just luring you deeper into his web to tip the playing field in his favor. You both knew there was no time to waste, so you walked into the trap willingly, with swift feet and a brave, but possibly foolish, heart.

Below the cavernous lair was an even bigger cavern still; a half-finished room with the same marble floors that suddenly gave way to rock formations and stalagmites and an underground river that offered a steady roar of rushing water. You didn't know where to rest your eyes, there were too many carefully crafted horrors laid out before you.

An altar with a body carefully placed atop it, a series of nine half-melted wax busts, a four-piece jazz band comprised of mechanical figures, a sterile area with a surgical table, and a ragged man who was elbow deep in another person's chest cavity.

A heavy hand clamped on your shoulder and you jumped to find the elusive Doctor Anton Phibes behind you. He was an imposing man who towered above you, his face sallow, waxy, and sagging. His red-rimmed eyes were bright with lively mischief, although his aura was heavy with the infernal stench of death.

You expected him to speak, but he simply tilted his head forward and urged you towards the altar. Not a question or suggestion, but an order.

You quickly weighed the possibility that if you killed him, struck him down, the ritual would simply end. Of course, then came the equally possible outcome that it would only hasten it.

Phibes pushed you the last bit of distance until you fell against the altar table itself and came face to face with the body resting there. You knew a dead body when you saw one, and generally you disagreed when people said they looked as if they were sleeping....this one however...she was peaceful in her eternal rest.

Face was full and serene, plump lips painted a succulent violet, with long, kohl-laden lashes that kissed her blush-dusted cheeks. Her skin was glowing and her long black hair had been fluffed and haloed around her. Her hands were folded below her chest and a lovely bejeweled ring glinted in the light of the candles that flickered from beside her on the altar.

The woman was preserved perfectly. Unnaturally.

"She's beautiful," you muttered.

"My wife," Phibes' voice croaked from beside you. You glanced over your shoulder to find that he had held a cord that ran from a porthole in the side of his neck to a phonograph-like speaker beside him. "My Rose. Taken from me far too soon, stolen from me."

"My God, please help my son," came an echoed mutter from the sterile area across the room. The surgeon had his bloodied hands folded in prayer as they rested on his patient's chest.

"Murdered!" Phibes voice grew louder and wrathful. "Don't cry upon God, Dr. Vesalius. He is on my side."

"And how do you know He's on your side," you questioned and Phibes' eyes cut back to you.

"He led me here," he explained. "Showed me the way in the quest for vengeance. Showed me the key to resurrection for my beloved and eternal life for us both. I plan to move Heaven and Earth to achieve it."

"Who are you to resurrect her?" you asked. "To bring about devastation for your wife? Is that His plan? The death of millions for the life of one?"

"He told me of you too, little Knight," he ignored your question. "It's how I knew to expect your arrival. He told me that you would appear to stop me."

"You're not only here to enact God's plan but to prophesize as well?"

"He said you would be the last step in bringing me back to my beloved Rose."

"So I must die too?"" You shrugged. "I'm the ninth?"

"No," he croaked. "Vesalius. Or rather, his wretched son. You must complete the ritual."

"I could kill you instead."

"Oh, but virtuous little Knight, I'm already dead." He released the cord and lifted his hands to his face. He peeled the waxy flesh and the tufts of hair on his head to reveal a twisted and burnt husk beneath. He was skeletal, barely a visage left; his nasal cavity shook with each labored breath and his exposed jaw clenched every so often.

Phibes inserted the cord into the porthole once again.

"I lost everything," he explained. "I lost my life, my purpose. And just when I thought it was enough, I lost my love too. I asked myself over and over: what was God's plan in taking it all away from me, in the blink of an eye? All at once? When I decided I would do anything—sacrifice anything—just to bring her back, He showed me the path and I took it. Wouldn't you? If you'd lost your love, what wouldn't you do, give, to get them back?"

A bitterness settled deep in your gut.

What did he know? What didn't he know? What was God's plan?

You'd asked yourself this many times over the course of your life, had become desensitized to the constant lack of an answer. Fate was an answer you couldn't stomach anymore.

So you had tried to run from it, only to collide with it instead. Fate cruelly led you to Eddie, and then away from him again...to protect him from the pain that was your damned life.

Yes, you would have done anything for him, even let him go. Love, for you, had to wait so that Fate wouldn't have been tempted to take him away.

Like it had for Phibes and Rose.

As you turned and stared down at Rose again...you felt for them...you truly did.

"Do you know resurrection takes more than just...some fancy ritual?" you asked Phibes. You could hear his feet shuffling closer to you. "It's unpredictable. The soul...the soul needs to be put back together, and by the time they ascend...or descend..."

"Rose was an angel," Phibes interjected and insisted. "My angel. My muse."

"...sometimes it's too late. How long has it been?"

"4 years."

"The ancient Egyptians had it right," you explained. "The Ka, the Ba...the Ahk...to put her back together after this long...would be impossible. Moving Heaven and Earth? More like breaking the walls between them. We could complete this ritual and resurrect her, but even still I don't think she would be whole ever again. She'd never really be your wife."

"And when would I have had to..."

"24 hours...48, maybe?" you offered.

Phibes' eyes slowly shut and he let out a painful hissing noise you could only attribute to a wail, or whatever equivalent his body could produce.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, hoping to provide some sort of balm on his wounded spirit. "But she's in Heaven...waiting for you."

You moved out of the way as Phibes collapsed on the altar and spoke in garbled tones to Rose's body, the cord pulled out of the porthole. Whatever confession in his mind was just for them.

You immediately ran across the cavern to Dr. Vesalius and his son. The surgeon sobbed his thanks to you as you began to work on the younger man. You didn't get the opportunity to heal others often—you were used more as an instrument of destruction than one of renewal—though the capability was always there. You dug deep into the celestial light within you and slowly his wounds knit back together.

Once Lem regained consciousness, Vesalius tugged at the restraints. Another spark of your power severed the chains and set the boy free and before long, father and son scampered up the steps and out of this pit of despair.

Vesalius had grabbed your hand before they had, though.

"Thank you," he said. "You're a hero."

No...you were nothing of the sort.

You walked back to the altar to check on Phibes, only to find his form still as it lay next to his wife.

"Doctor?" you shook him. "Doctor?"

You pushed him onto his side and a knife clattered to the marble floor; you balked at the needle in his arm and a slash in his wrist that lazily dripped...dripped...dripped...

Tubes ran out from the needle and embalming fluid rapidly replaced blood. It hadn't been that long for you to heal Lem had it? Had this always been Phibes' plan if the ritual failed? He was sure that you would be the one...the last step in reuniting him and Rose.

You touched his chest and closed your eyes.

Eight were dead but the first born son lived. The ritual was unsuccessful. The secrets of what really happened would stay buried deep below the city.

You could feel it...the ambient energy stirring around Phibes...slowly leaking from every pore of this mortal prison as his body died and he began his ascent. Anton and his beloved Rose would spend eternity together.

He was a good man, a loving man, led astray...and God was willing to forgive him and let him into Heaven.

You looked around the room again and felt sick.

For all the money that the Catholic Church had, the best they could afford when they sent their attack dog—you—to save the world for the umpteenth time was a crappy roadside motel off the 101.

You were used to uncomfortable plane and train rides, questionable motels and cots shoved into the corners of storage rooms in monasteries and missions when space could be spared.

This was your life though.

You had run from the safety of your Nonna's home when you turned 18 and then again from your little apartment in Hawkins a little over a year ago after Fate finally caught up to you. The next closest thing to...a base of operations, if you could call it that, was a tiny, unkempt bungalow house in a small suburb in Chicago that you barely set foot in because evil reared its ugly head a little too much.

Home was not a luxury you could afford, and even if it was...for you, it wouldn't have been a place, it would have been a person.

So you took comfort after a trying assignment in crappy gas station food and lumpy beds because it reminded you of the home you wish you didn't have to leave behind.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" you exclaimed as you kicked the door to your room open and found an unexpected visitor sitting crosslegged on the bed you hadn't claimed for yourself. He held a stack of palm branches in his hand, a small pile of folded crosses placed neatly beside him.

"Watch the way you talk," he began. "Let nothing foul or dirty come out of your mouth."

"Is it not a little...weird for you to quote the Bible?" you asked.

"I didn't write it," he replied simply.

"Well your boss did." You fell onto the unoccupied bed and sighed. You didn't know if it was just the adrenaline finally wearing off after a successful end to your task—if you could call it successful—or something else. Something within you felt like you were...trapped under water.

"He did not either," he dismissed and went back to folding crosses. "You're planning to visit the cemetery." It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

"Yes."

"When?"

"Before Easter, if Jinette doesn't have another errand for me to run." You fished a bottle of YooHoo from your bag of snacks and offered one to him. His lips quirked and in a blink, all of the palms were folded into neat crosses and he was on his feet.

"Good." He stared at you blankly, expectantly, and it made you feel claustrophobic.

His presence was greater than what was apparent to the naked eye, and in times like these where he was about to spring something on you, your soul could sense the swell of his being. It never got easier.

"I know this isn't a social call or a job well done for preventing the destruction of the Earth for the hundredth time," you begin and cover your face with your hands. "I'm tired, so if you could please just—"

"You say that a lot," he noted.

"What?"

"That you're tired."

"It happens when you're a human," you retort.

"Then you will do well to listen to me now," he says gravely. You peek through your fingers to look at him. "Something is coming. Something bigger than you've ever encountered before."

"Shit, really?" you asked. "When will I have to go?"

"You won't," he stated with an air of finality. "Or else, you will die."

Your hands fell from your face as your ears started to ring and your pulse pounded in your head.

You'd heard many warnings in the past, throughout your life, from him. Pain, suffering, duty. This was the first time he had ever warned you of your death.

Why now? After all of the other missions you'd been given, after facing Hell on Earth dozens of times...

You always knew it was a possibility...but a guarantee?

"W-when...why...when?"

"Soon."

That was helpful. You couldn't even prepare. It would be sprung on you. The next time you were called into action maybe? Or the time after that?

"So I just...I tell...tell Jinette o-or whatever Bishop that I can—” you stammered and he cut you off.

"This is not something that they will ask you to do," he explained. "This is something you will feel compelled to do. Strongly compelled. But you must heed my warning, young one. For you will perish and damnation will surely await you."

"I don't understand," you squeezed your eyes shut. "Isn't...isn't it already awaiting me? What makes this any different?"

"Because it will hurt. It will destroy you." What would...the task? Or the damnation? There was a rustle of wings and a roar of fire in your ears. "Do not be afraid."

They were words you had never heard from his mouth, but you knew he had said them before.

When you opened your eyes, he was gone, and you were left in the motel room alone.

"Gabriel?" You called for him, like you used to when you were a child and nightmares of monsters and demons plagued you. When you used to look for comfort when your father was off on a quest so similar to your own and your mother had no way to sooth you on her own. "Gabriel!"

March 27th, 1986

You knew from the moment you woke up that morning, something was off. As though you were operating on a different frequency than usual. You felt simultaneously sluggish and as though lightning surged just beneath your skin.

It didn't happen often, if ever really, which is what caused some alarm.

Perhaps when you were much younger and your abilities began to manifest. The holy light within you couldn't be contained by such a young body. It had led to massacres and miracles alike.

You remembered seeing Empire Strikes Back for the first time and feeling a kinship with Luke. "Luminous beings are we, not this cruel matter," a phrase you muttered to yourself often, taking comfort in the Light, when your future could only possibly be shrouded in Darkness.

It had taken years to control it, and you were well past grown now, but somehow you couldn't just shake the feeling that plagued you today. It was as though your fight or flight response was primed and ready, despite no danger in sight.

If Archbishop Jinette was any sort of reliable figure in your life, you would have confided in him. Looked to him for guidance. For help. Instead, you'd sat in his office with him for the past hour as he debriefed and lectured you—reamed you—for your handling of Phibes and the ritual.

"It was, quite frankly, irresponsible," he said for the tenth time. His cassock swished around him as he paced before you. "The number of innocent lives that could have been lost."

You rolled your eyes, fully of the belief that he wouldn't have given a shit about any other lives lost at all. You used to give Jinette—give all of your handlers—the benefit of the doubt, used to believe that they cared about innocents. Maybe they had once, but now it was twisted by the power their positions afforded them.

Once they donned a pectoral cross, guilt no longer affected them. It was only a tool used to bend others to their will.

"How can we rely on you to your duty fully if you take the time to negotiate?" He asked. "If you try to reason with agents of evil?"

"Phibes was not evil. He mentioned that God led him to this path," you interjected, and Jinette stopped in his tracks. "That He led Phibes to the ritual in order to reunite him with his wife."

"They would be reunited in Heaven," Jinette dismissed with a hiss. He turned his judgmental, wet eyes to you and glared pointedly. You knew exactly the warning he was trying to convey and you straightened your shoulders.

"It must have been the devil in disguise. Trickery. You, more than anyone, should know how easy it is to fall for temptation." The burn of his stare became righteous, but it was not what caused you to turn your eyes downward.

Was temptation really so bad if it brought you peace? If it made you feel more whole than you'd ever felt in your life? A year with Eddie and you felt sure in your skin, safe, loved. Was that bad? Did that make you evil?

You had let your pain get the best of you in the moment, but after a few days of clarity...Phibes had been right...

What you wouldn't give right now to be back there? To be anywhere but here?

It was regret.

There was a sharp knock at the office door and Jinette sighed and looked at the clock.

"It is time for Mass," he announced. "Think on your sins and the Lord may offer his forgiveness."

After he vacated the office, you forced yourself to your feet, trudged through the rectory, and into the cathedral where you slid into one of the last pews. You would hardly consider yourself a devout attendee—certainly not as you disassociated through the psalms and readings—but you knew if you missed Mass after your supposed sins, there would be Hell to pay.

"...Jesus knew that his hour had come to pass from this world. He loved his own in this world and he loved them til the end..."

You'd heard this Mass before, the Mass of the Lord's Supper. Not your typical Sunday service, so you couldn’t recite it verbatim, but familiar enough. Your Nonna dragged you to as many masses as she could, in every language offered at the local parish, hoping to spare you of this fate in a way she couldn't spare her son or her husband.

Over the years, her hand shrunk in yours. What was once a healthy, strong hand that guided you became small and weak, shriveled and brittle. Until one day, there was no hand left to hold at all.

"...I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do."

You spotted a group of women further up the aisle. Novitiates, probably. You could sense a tenuous peace about them. One could tell she was being watched and she turned to look at you. She was young, maybe around your age, and her eyes were wide and curious.

You tried to smile at her, encourage her—it was all you could do not to scream, actually—but she rolled her eyes a little and turned back around.

The sound of rustling bodies washed through the Cathedral like a wave as everyone got to their feet—

"Pray my Sisters and Brothers that my sacrifice and yours should be acceptable to God, The Father, Almighty."

—and as you rose, your stomach dropped.

Your body burned.

It felt like a thousand cuts were made along your skin. You gasped for breath but could find no air. Your bones cracked and crunched beneath an invisible weight, and the pressure felt as though your sides would split and your insides spill out through phantom wounds.

You fell to your knees and grasped the back of the pew in front of you. You tried to make a noise, to call for help, but nothing could overcome the rumble of the congregants.

"Lord have Mercy. Christ have Mercy."

The polished wood splintered under your grip before the world went dark.

When your eyes opened, you were met with a muted haze. A dark sky, with clouds that shifted in tandem with the howling wind, sizzled with infernal lightning over and over.

You laid on cold, damp ground. You could feel it seep through your clothes and leech into your skin, deeper and deeper, until it settled uneasily in your bones. An acrimonious rigor that would have overtaken you had you allowed it.

Something deep within your subconscious wanted you to.

You needed to gain control quickly.

Your fingers dug into the thick, unforgiving clay of the earth beneath you, and you pushed yourself upright, only to be met with a chilling sight that made your heart stop in your chest.

His was body was aligned with yours, the soles of his feet just inches away from brushing against you. His skin was pale and smeared with gore, and his ripped clothes belied the true extent of his injuries. He choked on his blood with fit of coughs, too wet for a death rattle. He was practically drowning in his own life's essence.

Eddie Munson lay dying in front of you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Your mind raced. Was this a vision? A prophecy? The gift of sight had never been one you could tap into before. Why now?

Was this a warning? If you didn't stay on the path He had in store for you, didn't listen to those He tasked to guide you, would this be your future?

You could hear a voice—an ominous, venomous voice—at the very corners of your mind, speaking to Eddie.

They left you behind. Left you to this fate. Left you to me.

What did that mean? You didn't leave Eddie. Not really. A part of you would always be with him.

You struggled and scrambled to get to his side. Your hands were unsure of where to touch him, how you could let him know you would be there without bringing him more pain.

He looked up at you with unseeing eyes.

"Eddie, please, please," you begged. "I'm here, I'm here with you."

His eyes wrenched shut and he cried out, mouth opening in a feral, heartbreaking howl.

To do with you what I please.

You knew it wasn't the Devil's voice. He wouldn't taunt and tease this way. It had to be some other malevolent creature who tried to get an innocent soul in its' clutches.

You closed your eyes and concentrated, tried to pour as much of your light into Eddie as you could, but despite his body being torn open the way that it was, he simply would not receive the help you could give.

You knew you couldn't leave him.

But Eddie was already gone.

And do to you, I shall...

When you came to, mass was over.

The closing hymn, heavy with organ song, rang throughout the cathedral as the procession made its way back up the aisle. You watched as Jinette glared at your prone form, laying on the pew, as he passed, but a light voice offered a distraction.

"Slowly, there you go, wake up," it said. A small, strong hand shook your shoulder then carefully tapped your face. "Sister Margaret went to call an ambulance."

"No," you groaned. "No ambulance. I'm fine." You immediately tried to push yourself upright, but the hands held you down to the pew.

"Don't get up, I don't know if you hit your head."

"I don't think so," you muttered. The pain that had wracked your body was nothing but a memory, a tell tale static that surrounded you, much the same way it would if your foot fell asleep.

You finally got your wits about you and found that your savior was the young woman you spotted earlier. Hell, if she didn't already think you were some creep off the street who'd wandered into the cathedral before...

"You're a part of the Order, right?" she asked disarmingly and pointed down to the small medallion that must have escaped from the confines of your shirt when you collapsed. Your hand immediately went to it and tucked it back into its hiding place; it was a reminder...a shackle. "A Knight of the Holy Order. Mother Superior said to steer clear of you if we ever crossed paths with you. She didn't say much else.

"I never thought I'd see one...just...pass out during mass."

"We're normal people," you sighed. "Not...Gods."

"Saints?"

"Sinners," you clarified and she laughed lightly.

"Yeah, me too" she agreed then frowned again. "Do you feel well enough to sit up?”

"I'm fine, just...tired," you explained and pushed her away from you. "I need to get back..."

"Back home?" she asked eagerly.

"Back to my motel." You got to your feet as the organ music stopped and the last few stragglers left. "Thank you for staying with me..."

"Oh...uh...Mary...Victoria..." she provided her name and you must have made a face. "I'm still working on it. I know I have time. But Victoria was my grandmother's name...so..."

"Well, I think it's a lovely name then," you offered a tight smile and your own name, then shuffled past her to make your escape. "See you around Mary Victoria."

March 30th, 1986

In the days following Holy Thursday, something was still off.

You had woken up the following morning with a sore jaw and a hoarse voice. Sometime later that day, you'd started crying blood. Only for an hour, but there was no controlling it. You were overwhelmed with emotion.

Hopelessness was the most prominent of them all.

You hadn't blacked out again, but something lingered beneath the surface. Given Gabriel's warning, you figured it would be best to lay low.

You knew it was a futile attempt to try and summon Gabriel again; he appeared when he felt like it or when it would best serve God.

The only time you’d ever desperately called for him, as fire almost consumed you and damp earth threatened to bury you alive, it had fallen on indifferent ears. It was then that you realized stories about Guardian Angels were just that: stories.

So instead, you went about your day as you typically would. Unless you were summoned somewhere by the clergy, they generally left you to your own devices. Especially on Holy Days like today.

Your plans for Easter Sunday specifically consisted of visiting the local cemeteries—

You would miss mass at the Cathedral today. Running your hands along the marble headstones and brass nameplates of those long-since-passed-and-forgotten and offering them a thought or two brought you more peace than any prayer or blessing would.

—and getting absolutely hammered.

You weren't a big drinker, really, since you typically were expected to have your wits about you. But it was a Holiday and you were far from home and alone. You made a blind choice at the liquor store on your way back from the cemetery, and it would numb you either to the point of blacking out, or make you give into your temptations to call Eddie.

You'd been thinking about him more lately.

Well...that was a lie, you always thought about him. Thought about calling, about visiting. You knew you couldn't trust yourself, so you did what you could to keep him safe. You skipped the letter M in the phonebook on the off chance he had finally made it out of Hawkins to follow his dream. Made it a point not to drive through Indiana if you could help it.

Maybe you didn't want to help it anymore. Maybe you should...maybe not visit...just call him.

Someone had left behind an honest-to-God glass in your motel room, and after a thorough cleaning, you poured yourself a helping of the nondescript amber liquid. It burned on the way down. Maybe it was a warning about the bad decisions that lay ahead of you.

You'd been tempted to call for his birthday last year, for Christmas...you sent a card. No return address, no name. Just a heart. You hoped he knew it was you because he always said your hearts looked like butts.

Another glass and you stood in front of the nightstand. You stared, transfixed, at the dingy rotary phone as you sipped your drink, savoring the burn this time. As if it had a mind of its own, your hand moved to grab the handset, but it just hovered for a moment.

How would Eddie answer? What would you say? What if it wasn't Eddie at all, what if it was Wayne? What if Wayne told you...that Eddie was spending Easter at a girlfriend's house? What would you do? What could you do? You practically forced him to say that he would wait for you...could you really blame him if he didn't?

Next to the phone was the remote for the television.

You hadn't really left him much hope after all.

You grabbed the remote and mindlessly aimed it behind you to turn the small set on. As it came to life and started bleating a commercial for some local restaurant, you momentarily prayed that it wasn't one of those Biblical epics, like The Greatest Story Ever Told.

Instead, the commercial ended and, as you poured yourself one more glass, the sterile voice of a newscaster reached your ears.

"...currently 68 degrees at the Los Angeles Civic Center. Lovely weather for Easter Sunday. For our top story, we bring you live to our own Robert Gilroy in Roane County, Indiana. Rob?"

You turned in shock and stared, dumbfounded, as the screen flashed to show a severe man in a brown suit. He frowned at the camera while a convoy of cars inched by behind him. You couldn't help but notice plumes of black smoke in the distance and you hoped that it was just a defect with the cheap motel tv.

"Thank you Laura. It's been less than 48 hours since a 7.4 Magnitude Earthquake rocked the quaint town of Hawkins, 80 miles outside of Indianapolis in an event that seismologists are calling a natural disaster of near unprecedented scale."

A wash of colorful stripes rolled across the screen before it showed b-roll of people running and crying, of a team of firefighters desperately trying to extinguish the burning Hawkins Public Library building, that was half rubble anyway, a man in camo bandaging a little girl's leg.

"The death toll now stands at 22, but with hundreds more filling Roane County hospitals and many more still missing, officials expect those numbers to rise."

You immediately dropped your glass and turned back to the phone, fumbling with the rotary dial to input a number you knew by heart.

"Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up." You listened as the ringing went on and on and on. You hung up and dialed again, and you desperately hoped you just got the number wrong. You screamed as it didn't even ring, but blared a taunting busy signal. "No! No! Who are you talking to? Pick up!"

"This is only the latest tragedy to befall this once safe town. Most recently, a string of high school students were killed in a series of ritualistic murders which have been linked to a local Satanic cult known as Hellfire."

Your blood ran cold at the word Hellfire and you refused to look at the television.

There was more b-roll, some chitter chatter saying how the Hellfire boys were always up to no good. How some upstanding students were killed, taken too soon.

Your breathing got heavy, enough that you started becoming lightheaded. The alcohol didn't help at all.

You tried to savor the last few minutes of ignorance as you wrenched your eyes shut, because if you didn't see it. It wasn't real.

"Eddie Munson, the leader of this cult and prime suspect in the murders..."

But you knew. You knew that this was the moment. You knew that this was what Gabriel meant. If you went to Hawkins, if you had to fight for Eddie, you would do it in a heartbeat and you wouldn't stop until you died.

"...has been missing since the earthquake..."

Those seconds that the reporter needed to take his dramatic breath were an eternity, one you would savor. Because it was easier to pretend that the only thing you had to do was just stop yourself from going to Hawkins, stop yourself from being selfish and wrathful, to punish those who would accuse the sweet, dumb, foolish, clumsy, trustworthy innocent love of your life.

It was just easier if you still lived in a world where you didn't have to hear what you knew was coming next.

"...and is presumed dead."

People often mistook the power of heaven to be one of peace, of hope, of new beginnings. And it could be. It usually was. But they forgot that the beginning of one thing was also the end of something else.

Divine retribution, a burning smiting wrath, the like of which had leveled Sodom and Gomorrah, flowed freely with your grief. It was illogical and irrational and inexplicable to any mortal, including you.

You remembered screaming.

Remembered the pain of the bones in your fingers splintering as you dug them into your skull. Your nails cut deep into the flesh of your scalp as you peeled the hair and flesh, as you opened the top of yourself to release the pressure that had suddenly and violently built up in your core.

Glass disintegrated into sand, furniture turned to ash, even the frame of the building began to buckle.

But there was a voice that called your name. A soft, sobbing voice that pulled you back from the edge of whatever precipice you subconsciously teetered on.

"It’ll be ok. I’m here."

You could practically feel arms slither around you, the phantom weight of them pressed into your skin. Dextrous fingers wove together with yours, soothed them, healed them. They caressed your wounds and the broken flesh stitched itself back together.

A cool breath grazed your ear and the screams that ripped from you began to subside. It shushed you and said unascertainable words of comfort as your fury subsided into woe.

"Close your eyes. It'll all go away if you don't look."

"But you're gone," you wept. The tears rolled down your cheeks and over your lips. You sniffled and licked at them; blood, again. "Why?"

There was no answer. You were about to open your eyes, eager to see and not just to feel, but the fingers glided over your face again. Over your cheeks to wipe the blood from them, over your lips to play with the softness of them, then over your eyelids.

Places he liked to kiss...places you wished you could feel lips instead...wished you could know that he was there.

"I'll never really leave. Even if you can't see me. I’m here.”

Every fiber of your being wanted to go, would have walked to Hawkins, run til your feet bled, to find his body. To clear his name. To say goodbye.

To die a most miserable death. Like Phibes and his Rose.

You would leave this world, happily, if it meant you could be by his side. But there was no guarantee. You could toil for a lifetime and hope to join him, and still be denied access to Heaven.

“I’ll be waiting for you. As long as it takes. I’ll be here.”

You heard the lovely whisper of your name, over and over as you sunk to your knees and you curled in on yourself. Every second it faded into the depths of your mind, and you couldn't help but crack your eyes open.

Lightning struck, the firefighters would explain to you later, on a clear day. The building went ablaze and was destroyed, but all the rooms were empty except for yours. The paramedics said it was a miracle you weren't injured. They touched you lightly, almost reverently.

"Hallelujah."

You were alone again.

It was a disquieting procession.

The creatures moved in a way that seemed unnatural, unfamiliar to them. Their feet shuffled across the barren waste and they dragged a hulking beast behind them. It was a large and ominous and twitching thing, and although the formality of this event it felt like a funeral, you knew that you were witnessing a birth instead.

The wings conjured images of Beelzebub...but Asmodeus felt like a more fitting comparison given how familiar you were with the inner workings of its mind.

Thinking of him as Beast or It was wrong. It felt sinewy and astringent. A bite you were reluctant to take.

You bore witness for three days.

It took two to break him, but images would haunt your mind and your heart for eternity. You tried to protect him, tried to undo what was done. You offered him comfort and a place to hide when he desperately needed a break he would never get.

How he had survived it, you would never know? But he was always stronger than you; if not in body, then in spirit. You never lasted long before you were forced to pull him back in. If you had remained, given him a longer rest, you knew you would have broken before he did.

He finally begged for mercy. He finally relinquished his soul.

You would stay beside him. No matter what they did to him. No matter what he did to himself.

They dragged him to their pit to put him back together again, and you forced yourself to watch, to listen, and to pray that every addition and alteration would stick. That he wouldn't have gone through the torture only to perish so close to the end of it.

You wondered where prayers went when they were made in Hell. Did they reach God's ears? Were they intercepted by Lucifer and his court? Or did they just...float in the void of oblivion?

He muttered words, you'd even heard your name escape his lips several times before they filled his mouth with too many teeth to speak.

By the end of the third day, he rose again.

And you sobbed in relief because somehow the sight of him complete, the sight of him rising and blinking and roaring brought you more comfort and warmth and joy than you had ever felt in your cursed existence.

It didn't matter how grim of vision he was. There was a beauty in that too. The beauty existed...simply because he still did.

Whatever they did to him, he was alive, and he would always be your Eddie. And that meant you had a chance to save him.

“When you loved someone, you put their needs before your own. No matter how inconceivable those needs were; no matter how fucked up; no matter how much it made you feel like you were ripping yourself into pieces.” — Jodi Picoult, The Pact

Special thanks to @big-ope-vibes and @pastel-pillows who can read even though she says she does not. And @fracturedarkness who I am determined to destroy/delight with this story.

Next Chapter: Illumination

#vampire eddie munson #vampire!eddie #kas!eddie #Eddie Munson fic #tw: death #tw: violence #tw: religious themes #stranger things fic #tw: suicide

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