#this emote was MADE for me and i must get it on every alt i can manage before I run out of steam

[sezja]

💖

[tojikai]

Sundered 7: TIES

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1  |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of sexual assault

word count: 6.0k

And he was happy. But never the happiest.

Naomi couldn’t count how many calls she had made but the wetness in her cheeks is proof of how frustrated she already is. “Please, pick up.” She bit the inner side of her cheeks, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. Naomi regrets what she did. She regretted that she still proceeded despite knowing how wrong it was.

She warned herself not to be greedy at the beginning of their relationship. She remembered telling him they’d take it step by step, not rushing anything because they were determined to make it work. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he’s only determined because he wanted to forget about you so badly.

“Mom, please. He threw me out.” Naomi spoke on the phone, tapping her feet as she stood in the middle of her room with her things around her. She took all the things necessary and left. Satoru would probably put everything she left in the trash but that’s the least of her concern right now. She lost everything she had with Satoru and it’s all because of her stupidity.

“What did you expect? You sexually assaulted my son and you want me to help you?” The woman hissed at her. Naomi was naive; thinking that she’ll have her back just because she wanted her for Satoru. “If anything I could even get you arrested—” She began but Naomi was quick to defend herself.

“You’re part of this. Didn’t you basically tell me to use a child to keep your son?!” Tears of anger pooled in her eyes as her hands shook in fear, fury, and heartbreak. Naomi remembered when Satoru’s mom would free her schedule so she could spend time with him and Yui. She would suggest activities and let Naomi tag along and that’s how they started to fall for each other.

Or rather, that’s how she started to fall for him while he just wanted an escape.

“But I never told you to do that to my son! Naomi, do you really think someone would side with you on this?” Every corner of Naomi’s room felt like they were closing in on her, ready to squeeze her till she was nothing but dust. Of course, no one would be with her. No matter what Satoru’s mother told her, she still chose to follow it so the blame’s on her.

“For someone who finished school with flying colors, your mind is dull.” She chuckled, letting Naomi hear all she truly is. “You got a pretty face, you know? That’s another reason why you caught Satoru’s eyes easily.” At that point, Naomi didn’t know if it was still a compliment. She’s pretty and kind, and smart and perfect for him, like she said. But why can’t she have all of him?

“But I’m afraid that pretty face would be useless now. If I were you I’d go start over alone somewhere far.” She clicked her tongue, cutting Naomi’s thoughts off every time she tried to voice them out. “Like, imagine graduating only to get jailed over some dumb, desperate shit? Naomi, you screwed up. And that’s why you lost all chances with my son.”

Naomi shook her head, the warmness of her emotions dampened the smooth skin of her face. “No, you made me…” She breathed out, covering her mouth before running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t want to do that…No.” She bawled and bawled but the line only went more and more silent.

She fucked up and she’s right. The shame and the loss of self-respect are not something she could live through in this city. She must go, she must leave. Like how they always did when she was a kid; fleeing the scene with her embarrassment of a family who can’t live without humiliating them. They have no decent source of living so they gotta strive.

Now, she’s doing all of it again, all while losing all of it. Again.

“Save yourself. I won’t let them know of your plan. After all, you were once of help to my child. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the call ended; with Naomi sitting on the floor as she put a balled hand over her throbbing chest, and the thought of going away to start as someone new settled in the middle of her head. Naomi learned a lot from all the troubles she went through.

This time, she learned that you could have someone's body but their heart could still be somewhere else.

—-------------------------------------------------

“What is it?” Satoru heard through the phone speaker. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, letting relief flood his veins and calm his shaking flesh. “When are you free?” There was a long pause before Satoru’s father replied, “You know I can make time.” Clearing his throat, Satoru massaged his temples, thanking the heavens that his nightmares weren’t real.

“Let’s meet later if that’s alright.” He whispered, scared that his voice would break. Satoru knows that he is the only link between the relationship of his parents. Just like how his older brother would’ve been the connection his father was hoping to keep his first, real love close. Until they got tired of it all; the matters brought by his mother. And him.

Just like how she drained Satoru out. And right now he just wanted to run away from her too.

“Of course, just send me the exact time.” Satoru nodded as if his father could see him, “Are you alright?” He asked after a few seconds as if sensing the trouble from his son’s voice. “Yeah, much better now, at least.” Satoru rubbed his eyes as he shook his head, eyeing the negative results of the vaginal swab test. “Dad, Mom can’t know.”

He’s almost sure that the request would prompt questions from his father, knowing that he’s aware of how close he is to his Mom. But he was surprised when he simply agreed, murmuring an “Okay.” before letting his son end the call. Satoru pictured him on his office chair as he nodded away, brows furrowed with worry like he always is when it comes to family matters.

When Satoru was a child, his nanny would tell him that his father wasn’t always so workaholic when his ex-wife was still there, co-parenting with him. After she ran away and left, his father started to immerse himself in work more. He knows that he tried with his mother since they were already there and married. But it was just never the same.

His father was happy with them. But he could never be the happiest again.

Leaning back on the chair, he put a hand over his eyes and let his frustrations stream down his cheeks. He let out a shaky sigh, grabbing the papers before looking at them in a brighter light. It’s negative. Nothing happened. You woke him up just in time. He tapped on Naomi’s contact, quickly typing his last message before attaching a photo of the results.

‘I’m mailing the rest of your things tomorrow.’ It only took a minute for her to respond with an apology but Satoru doesn’t care anymore to read it. He blocked the number as soon as he made sure that she received and read the message. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her.

He knows he is wrong for not telling her about his feelings as soon as he can. But that doesn’t equal what she did to him and what she almost got them into. Satoru checked the clock before sending the time to his father, hoping to end all of this mess before the mess ended him.

His mother has been calling him nonstop, and he always had to pretend that he was not home during the previous days. He stayed in watching movies with his little girl, sending you videos and pictures every now and then. He slept in her room during those days, a desperate attempt to calm his brain down. His head hurts from overthinking.

Putting the papers back into the envelope, Satoru took it with him to his room. He made sure to put it in his bedside drawer, just in case some other shit comes up. If this happened before, he’d probably think that Naomi is not that kind of person. But after what she did to him, all of the trust and admiration she has for her went to waste.

Changing into something more comfortable, Satoru tried to take a quick nap. He doesn’t want to look this tired when he meets his father. He’d probably convince him to get a general checkup just to make sure that nothing was wrong. Satoru knows that if it weren’t for him, his father wouldn’t ever put up with his mom. He’d probably spend his whole life searching for his ex-wife.

A few hours of nap felt like nothing because when Satoru woke up, he still felt tired. The only difference is his heartbeat doesn’t sound like it’s trying to come out of his chest anymore unlike when he was waiting for the results. A little progress is still progress; just like how he’s trying to make it all up to you.

If Satoru’s being honest, he’d fall down to his knees and beg you to take him back if you asked him to do it. The only thing stopping him is his brain telling him how happy you are right now and how he wouldn’t want to destroy that. He can’t force himself to stop thinking about you but he can force himself to move on if it’s for you.

Satoru leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, reading a text from his father saying that he was on his way. Another text was from you; it was a picture of Yui holding up a coloring book and a crayon. He was just with her earlier but he misses her already. He wondered if he could visit when he doesn’t have other things to do even if it’s not his schedule yet.

Sending a response with a small smile on his face, Satoru heard the doorbell ring, signaling his father’s arrival. He peeked through the spaces of his window curtains to ensure that it was him before opening the door. Satoru’s still unsure of what he’ll say but he hopes that his father can give him a better solution.

Satoru thought that if he ever cut ties with his mother, it’d be for you and Yui’s safety. He didn’t think that it’d be for him too. “Dad,” He gave his father a hug as he stepped in, following his son as they walked to his house. “What’s going on?” He asked as soon as Satoru closed the door. They walked to the kitchen, settling on one of the barstools.

“It’s because of mom…” He began, placing a glass pitcher atop the counter.

—---------------------------------------

“Smile~ We’ll send this to Dada.” You cooed, pointing at the camera as you tried to take a picture of your daughter. At first, she didn’t want to do it, wanting nothing but to play with her book and crayons but when she heard that her Dad wanted to know about it, she got real creative with the pose. “You don’t listen to Mama, anymore.” You pouted at her as you hit send.

She scrunched her nose, sticking out her tongue at you before picking on her colors. You still can’t forget how dead Satoru looked when he dropped Yui off. You wondered what he talked about with his mother that caused him to be like that. Even with the soft tone of his voice, you could hear roughness that probably came from the lack of sleep.

If it concerns you, then you definitely have to know. His mother probably said something bad about you, but you doubt that it’s affecting Satoru by how he was talking and looking at you. He just looked so done with all of it, but even so, there was still a tender look in his eyes when they met yours.

You sighed while looking at your phone as you waited for a text from Toji. He’s been so busy with work lately, you’re just glad that you already talked about your problems. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well had it stayed unsaid for a couple more days. It wasn’t completely back to normal, but at least, you’re both trying to make it better for each other.

“I would try,” He whispered to your ear as he hugged you from behind, “I can’t promise not to think of her–“ You turned around, looking up at him with a solemn look in your eyes, “I’m not asking you to not think of her, that’d be selfish of me.” He nodded, kissing your forehead, “Alright, what I mean is, I won’t make any comparisons.” You hummed.

“I need you to stop worrying about Satoru and I.” You put your head on his chest, “I know it’s easier said than done, but I just want you to know that I am with you.” Your fingers traced figured on his skin, “I’m keeping that in mind.” He placed his cheek on top of your head, sighing deeply as he let go of you.

“I’m taking Megumi to my Mom’s.” He pushed your hair back with his fingers, making your eyes flutter close as you felt his face get closer to yours and his breath ghosting on your lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pecked your lips, “Take care, I love you.” He murmured as he gave you a long kiss, before turning to get their stuff.

One thing that you notice about Toji is that he never waits for you to say anything back. You don’t want to take the words lightly, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the same way as him. You still have a long way to go, and you don’t want to rush anything. When you mention it to him, he just says that he needs you to hear it.

“Mama, look!” Your daughter pulled you out of your head as she showed you a picture of a cat, “Dada buy Yui.” You looked closely at the picture, laughing as you realized that she was talking about the cake that they ate. “Yeah, you're right! That's what Dada bought you!.” You patted her head as she giggled.

“Yui, baby. Did meemaw come to see you?” You held her small hands, trying to keep her attention to you. “No. No meemaw.” She pulled at your hair gently, trying to color it with her crayons. “What about…what about Naomi?” You can’t help but chuckle as she pretended to think, eyes looking up as she pouted her lip.

“No Naomi!” Her answer gave you a bit of an insight. You would assume that maybe she was just busy, but hearing about how Satoru’s mother reduced her workload made you doubt it. Satoru sent you tons of pictures during his time with her but you thought that Naomi just wasn’t in the frame.

If the ‘talk’ between her and Satoru didn’t end well, you could only assume that he already told her about it. He’s probably down because he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. With all the progress Satoru has made, you doubt that he’d be so happy to have broken a heart. She was still once a friend to him.

A heavy feeling settles in the middle of your chest, like an anchor weighing your heart down, thinking about how his mother would probably find a reason to drag you for it. But if that’s the case, you’re sure that Satoru wouldn’t let harm come to you.

With how gentle Naomi was, you couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen.

——————————————

“What did she do this time?” His father looked away, clicking his tongue. If one would ask Satoru, his parents would’ve probably divorced years ago if it weren’t for him. His father knows how he is with his mother, and the thought of giving him a hard time switching between the two of them pained him.

Satoru wished that he thought about it too before he decided to go and selfishly start over with someone else. Your words the night he confessed to you echoed in his head. He came to a realization that you probably wanted to ask him to come back but held yourself back as he let you know how happy he was with Naomi.

And he was happy. But just like his father, he was never the happiest.

“I don’t really know how to open this up to you…” He bit his lip, “…But I just want this to be over, Dad.” Satoru felt so vulnerable at that moment. The only time he had a talk this serious with his Dad was when he found out about your pregnancy. It was just more of a news, unlike right now, which is a call for help.

“Naomi…Mom and Naomi talked about…” His father’s eyes coaxed him as if sensing his distress. “Naomi tried to…” Shaking his head, Satoru breathed out. “Naomi wanted to conceive. Because our relationship was falling apart.” He can see his Dad’s brows pull together to a scowl, probably getting a hint of what happened.

“She talked to Mom about it and she…” The man sat up straight, bouncing his leg like he already knew what his wife did. “She said Mom brought up the thing about how you and him got together.”It was hard to talk about this to his father, knowing how sensitive it can be for him. “Naomi told me about it. I recorded it, just in case—”

“Satoru, what did your girlfriend do?” Satoru looked down, fingers fidgeting like he was a kid again. “And your mother’s involved? What happened?” Rubbing his face, Satoru threw away all his fears. If he’s not going to fix these problems, then who will? “She got me drunk, and then she tried to sleep with me.” He blinked fast, watching his father’s face.

“I heard her talking to Mom on the phone, and I took it from her. That’s how I found out that she played a part in all of it.” It was hard for him to accept. The person he used to protect, the one he always tried to understand was the same person who betrayed and put him in this position; the position that also made his father the person he is today.

Another long silence surrounded them. His father’s hand was balled into a fist, covering his mouth as he blankly stared at the marble surface. “Where’s Naomi?” His father pulled out his phone, and Satoru could tell just what he was about to do. “I don’t know. I’m sending her things away. I’m cutting her off. I’m filing a protective order against her and mom–“

Satoru didn’t get to finish his sentence before his father spoke again, probably finally taking in the information he just provided him. “I’m divorcing your mother.” His mouth fell half-open. His voice was low, serious, and full of all the grief that he’s been feeling for years ever since he lost his first wife and son. “And I’m sending that woman to jail.” He added, raising a finger.

“There’s…I don’t want that.” He breathed out, earning a questioning look from his dad. “You don’t have to send her to jail. I…I messed up if I just told her that I still have feelings for Y/N, then she wouldn’t have resorted to that. She wouldn’t have talked to Mom and this wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up, leaning on the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Satoru thought about it too when he caught her in the act. But after some reflection, he realized his shortcomings, his mistake of not just telling her about what was really going on. Even though there was no excuse for what she did, Satoru can’t help but feel like he’s the one who caused all of this to happen. And he probably really is; a victim of his foolish choices.

“But other than that, I don’t want Y/N and Yui to be caught up in this. I don’t want to expose them to this kind of problem, they’ve been through so much because of me already. I just want to do better this time.” Thinking about dragging you into another mess made Satoru feel weak. He promised to make it up to you, and he’d do anything to prove that.

His father put his phone down on the table, taking in a deep breath just to calm himself. “But you’re not stopping me from divorcing your mother.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right to agree to that. It felt like he was encouraging the separation of his parents; celebrating his mother’s heartbreak.

But his father’s been suffering heartbreak for years. It’s only fair to set him free.

“It’s up to you. I…” Satoru shook his head, sure of the decision he was about to make. “...I don’t think I can just forgive and forget what she did. It’s not something small, and I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.” His eyes itched, ready to let his tears go any minute. “I don’t even know if I still want to be associated with her.” He turned away, sighing as he blinked away his pain.

When he and Naomi went for the examination, he made her spill all the details regarding the said conversation with his mother. It took everything in him not to fly into a rage while breaking down as he heard of it. All this time, his mother saw him as a pawn to keep his father, regardless of whose life she was tearing down; Satoru’s, his father's ex-wife, and his first son.

“I wanted to take you away when you were a kid.” His father admitted, looking ahead as he reminisced of the decisions he made. “I wanted to just take you and raise you with your brother. Of course, with the hopes of getting my ex-wife back.” He leaned back, tapping on the screen of his phone. The bitter tone in his voice can’t be missed.

“That was my plan when I found out about you. But when you were about a year and a half old, she disappeared. All I knew was she was…tired; drained of all the chaos that our son and her were exposed to. What with having to co-parent with me as I was with your mother.” His eyes played the emotions he chose to hide away many years ago.

“I know you know about this. She and I got divorced. I thought it was over for us, I thought I made the right decision to turn away and try another start. And I was dating your mother. Then we had you.” His arms were crossed and Satoru could almost see the similarities between his feelings to how he used to feel about yours and his relationship.

“Then, realization came running for me; haunting me in my sleep. I was ready to get her back again, but it was too late. She was already gone.” Satoru absently poured water for his Dad, listening intently to his story. “So, I felt like the only thing to do was to marry your Mom. I reminded myself that still have you, I can’t just spiral down.” He smiled at Satoru.

“I tried to convince, tried to brainwash myself that it’d be fine. That I could learn to love her and I did. Just not the kind of love that lovers have.” If his mother could hear his Dad right now, she’d get shattered. Satoru doesn’t want to see that, but she would have to. She has to understand that she’s putting this man through.

“I loved her because she loves me; because she cares for you and me.” Leaning over to pick up his glass, he looked his son in the eyes. “But true love is unconditional, Satoru. It should not have a reason.” He took a sip, pursing his lips before continuing. “Reasons might vanish, and when it does, so will the love you feel for that person.”

In the middle of it all, Satoru could only think of you. Why does he love you? When did he realize that he loves you? How did it happen? He doesn’t have an answer for it. He cannot find a reason for it. He doesn’t remember loving you just because you put up with him, he doesn’t remember falling for you just because of the life you created together.

All that he knows is that one day, he woke up and he already knew that he was in love with you. Like he’s been doing it for years; like that’s all he’s ever known.

—-------------------------------------------------

“I’ll keep in contact with you regarding the proceedings.” Satoru’s father spoke on the phone, stepping inside his mansion and smiling at his helpers. He asked Satoru if he wanted to have a word with his mother but the thought of having to look at her after what she tried to make his ex-girlfriend do makes him feel dizzy.

“Honey, you’re home.” The woman tried to welcome him with a kiss and open arms but he quickly turned his head, rejecting her. “Come up to my office, we got something to talk about.” The mask of a loving wife was quickly covered with fear and dread.

“What about in our room? So, you can rest.” She nodded her head once, trying to coax him but he was tired of closing his eyes and numbing his heart from feeling the pain and regret of having to lose the love of his life for the comfort that this woman offered him before. “In my office. It’s not a small matter that I could sleep on.”

Leaving the woman baffled, he made his way upstairs, not waiting for her to walk beside him. There was a deafening silence in the big room, save from the footsteps of her husband and the door of his office slamming with such force that it sent a crack in her heart.

She took a deep breath and ran her palm on top of her dress, thinking of all the reasons she could give him just to prove her innocence. She didn’t want any of that to happen. She didn't think that Naomi could be so dumb as to come up with such a heinous and unpleasant plan.

That wasn’t even what she did to Satoru’s father. It was just working to keep them together. And that’s why Satoru came.

With her found determination, she held her head high. Swallowing the terror rising up her throat as she let her thoughts convince her that she did nothing wrong. She never explicitly told Naomi to do that, she’s the one who schemed that. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

She walked up the stairs, caressing the smooth, cold surface of the handrail. Satoru wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He’s her boy, her pride and joy. He’s the only ally she had when his father was openly pushing her away.

Satoru wouldn’t just ruin what she and his father had because of baseless information from his sick girlfriend. Entering the office, the man sat on his swivel chair. Forehead pressed to the heel of his hand. “What is it, dear?” She smiled sweetly at her husband, appearing unaware of what he had in mind.

Oh, how she wished she was just unaware of it all. She wished that she didn't know what the problem was. She wished it wasn’t what she thought it was and that she was just overthinking because of how– “I want a divorce.” Those four words halted the spinning of her world.

“What?” She raised her brows, checking if it was just her mind playing tricks on her and making her hallucinate. “I want a divorce. And I want it as soon as possible.” His eyes no longer held any emotions towards her; no sadness, bitterness, fading love. None. Not even pity.

“Listen, honey, I didn’t think that Naomi would do–“ She took quick steps towards him, hoping to get him to listen. “So, you knew about it?” He glared at her, “You knew about it and you didn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head, and she could only open her mouth.

“Doesn’t matter. Satoru told me everything.” He stood up from his seat, towering over her as he stared her down. “It’s nothing like that–“ She breathed out, panicking. “I’m not really interested in what you told Naomi. I’m just thankful that my son’s safe.” He stepped away from her.

“What I want to do right now, is to be free from this.” It’s over for her. All the alibis that she was composing, thinking of for this moment are useless. He doesn’t need an explanation, this was simply the final push that he needed to kick her out of his life. And probably out of Satoru’s too.

“Please, don’t do this. We’re already too old to–“ She tried to grab his hand and he only grabbed it with the other to put it away. “You’re right. We’re too old, our son’s too old for me to still pretend that we want to be in this position.” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Please, listen. I wouldn’t do something that could harm–“

“I know,” His voice was calm. “Of course, to harm him wasn’t your intention, right?” She nodded eagerly, thinking that he was finally listening to her. “But you wanted to decide for him. You got in between him and Y/N, then pushed this woman on him because you thought you knew best for your son.” Tears fell down her eyes, and she lost all hope.

“Now, look at what you did to him.” He gritted his teeth, stepping forward to get her out of his way. “But this is not just about our son anymore. This is also about me, finally choosing to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Opening the door, he spoke to her one last time. “All you have to do is sign. The actions that your son will take is all up to him.”

With that, he left her with all of the nightmares of their past coming back. How he only wanted the best for his sons, how he wanted to take full custody of Satoru, how he wanted to get back together with his ex-wife, and how he only married her because she was gone. She was never the first option. She was never the original pick.

She wasn’t chosen, she just happened to be already there.

—————————————

“Hey,” You heard Satoru speak as Toji opened the door for him, nodding. This was kind of similar to how they first saw each other but you’re just glad that this time, it’s a lot calmer. Megumi ran to his father, peeking up at Satoru as he waved at him.

“Yui, your Dada’s here.” Toji left the door open to let Satoru in. Megumi was holding onto his pants, staring back at Satoru. “Yui Dada,” He picked his toy up, staring at a distance before walking closer to him. “Blue!” You laughed from the kitchen, as you packed some snacks for the little girl.

Today, you’re going to the zoo as Yui requested. The animal drawings from her coloring book got her asking you to call her Dada late at night, just to babble about it. “He’s referring to your eyes,” Toji spoke as he went back to the living room to pick up some of the toys.

“Megumi, it’s not good to point at people, what did I tell you?” He warned the toddler as he went back to your room, eyes meeting yours as you made your way to Yui's room. “Ah, yes. Yui and I have the same eyes.” Satoru smiled at the child.

“Dada!” Yui ran towards him, stomping her shoes extra hard to show him how they light up with dancing colors. “Woah! Did Mama buy you those shoes?” He opened his arms, urging the little girl to run to him and she happily did, giggling as she nodded. “It’s awesome!” You smiled at how he tried to flatter his child, encouraging her to do a little jump.

“Where are we going today?” You asked her in a playful tone as you put the lunch bags on the coffee table in front of them. “Zoo!” You watched a Satoru give her a sincere smile, patting her hair gently while complimenting her little butterfly clips. “I’m sure Megumi’s been to the zoo before.” He poked the little boy's tummy.

“Yeah. Animals. Bears and lions.” He stood behind you, peeking at Satoru as he talked. Megumi isn’t usually shy, but he doesn’t easily warm up to people. “We went there on his second birthday.” You almost jumped at Toji’s voice behind you as he picked up his child. “He’s a smart kid.” Satoru answered with a friendly smile.

“You guys should come. If you want..” It surprised you that he was initiating something like that. Although, you know that Toji wouldn’t be so comfortable with that and would most likely reject the offer, it’s still nice to see that Satoru’s trying to make an effort to get along with him.

“That’d be nice but his grandma's waiting for him,” Toji answered, chuckling awkwardly. “Dada work,” Megumi added, earning a hum from his Dad. Making sure that the bag is packed with everything Yui needs, you zipped it up. “You ready to go now?” You tapped the toddler’s cheek, feeling Satoru’s gaze at you.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Standing up with his daughter in his arms, he took the bag from your hands. He put the toddler down to hug her friend goodbye, before walking hand in hand with her outside. You laughed at how she kept squealing with each step she took, looking up to see her Dad’s reaction.

“You guys have fun, alright? I’ll just lock the doors before we go.” Toji pulled you to him, giving you a kiss. “I’ll be back later.” You put your hand around his neck, standing on your tippy toes before pecking his neck. With that, you walked out the door to join your toddler who was patiently waving at you from her car seat.

“Okay, it’s zoo time!” You wiggled your brows at her as you slammed the door shut, making her giggle. You checked your face in the mirror, trying to ignore Satoru’s soft eyes as he watched you. “How are you?” You tried to start a conversation but it was quickly interrupted as you searched around for your daughter’s binky.

“Maybe we left it inside,” Satoru spoke, opening Yui’s bag to help you find it. “Yui, where did you put it?” Remembering how she placed it on the coffee table as she showed off her outfit to her father, you started to unbuckle your seatbelts but Satoru stopped you. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He was already stepping out of the car before you could stop him.

Satoru jogged up your steps, knocking a few times before proceeding to open the door. Toji was just about to open it for him when he entered, “It’s Yui’s pacifier. She left it.” He put on the most polite smile he could muster, wanting nothing but to get rid of the awkwardness between them if they were both going to be in your life.

“Oh, alright. I thought it was someone else.” Toji let out a rather awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to react or what else to say. But just as Satoru uttered ‘thanks’, Toji remembered the thing he’s been thinking of for almost a week now. “Uh, Satoru,” He called, making him pause as he held the door open.

Her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. Toji doesn’t know if you’d be happy about this but it’s better than just letting his feelings, thoughts, and opinions all pile up inside of him. This is for you and Yui. Not just for him.

“I’ve been thinking about our situation with Y/N and… I was wondering if you could set aside a bit of your time for a chat?”

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[bunny-lily]

Tether Me - Chapter 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: “Hey! Didn’t keep you waitin’ too long, did we?”

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

CW: No y/n | polyamory | slow burn | slice of life | alt au - no curses | fluff | light angst | eventual smut | forgive me, there's internal monologues | I like using big words... | Gojo & Geto are whipped for you | emotionally constipated reader | (most of the tags have been condensed, you can find the full list on my ao3 here)

AN: there's a couple mentions of emotional eating (in thoughts). Degrading words towards self (slut, whore, etc) but not self-degrading. I think that's it? Lemme know if I missed something, it's 5:50 am at time of posting and I am eepy, so I'm sorry if I did ♥

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 12.9k

The scent of something marvelously delicious wafting through the air had you groggily rolling over from your stomach to your back in bed, stretching your arms above you and practically vibrating the way a cat would as you eased away any sleep-induced tension from your muscles.

You honestly hadn’t slept that well in a long while. You were bleary-eyed, sure, but refreshed. You didn’t have any heavy bags under your eyes, you didn’t experience any nightmares of being hunted. Just calm, good, dreamless sleep.

As much as you wanted to laze around in bed all day, though, the watering of your mouth couldn’t go ignored. Or the rumble in your stomach, for that matter.

With a sleepy groan and big, feline-like yawn to match your stretch, you shuffled out of bed and rubbed the crusties from your eyes as you pulled on some comfortable clothes. Hell if you knew what you were going to do for the day, you could figure that out after you sated your appetite.

You were downright drooling when you left your room to do your morning routine and groused like a toddler that didn’t want to brush her teeth before devouring her weight in breakfast. But you were a grown ass woman that quite preferred to have good hygiene, thank you very much. The intoxicating call of sustenance would have to wait until after you scrubbed your face and polished your teeth to perfection.

Catching sight of yourself in the mirror made you choke when you saw how chaotic the nest of hair on your head was. You felt like a cartoon character that got zapped, your tresses sticking in every direction. 

You must have slept really well, then.

You combed your fingers through the messy strands, trying to smooth the misbehaving locks. It took some effort to tame them into a somewhat presentable fashion, which was the most you cared to do when you were dying to eat already.

Your eyes flickered towards the remaining bottles you left on the sink countertop from last night and you nearly lost your shit.

Just what did Satoru put Ijichi through to get you high end skin products like these? And in such a short amount of time? You guessed the poor man broke a few speeding laws to get these in time for you to use. That, or maybe Satoru had informed him earlier, when you initially agreed to take him up on his offer to stay at his place. Or he already had them and was keeping them around for this kind of situation? Did he use the same brand?

Well, whatever. You were going to use those zealously, so help you god.

And, by the heavens above and seas below, they were fucking incredible. Your face was baby-skin soft. Lustrous, dewy, you were glowing, and certainly felt like it, too. You couldn’t stop touching your cheeks and forehead, they were just so smooth. 

No wonder rich people always had the clearest skin. If you had these while growing up, you never would have had to deal with getting acne in your teens and into your adulthood.

So fucking unfair.

Lamenting how Satoru was born with a silver spoon in his mouth while you were robbed by the universe, you followed the delectable wisps of the tasty aroma in the air like a drunk cupid with tiny wings and a dazed veneer on your face. There you found the man himself in the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar song to himself.

You continued to be baffled that he knew how to cook. It seemed almost unnatural, in a way. He was the prime example of a rich boy that you could find reclining on a poolside chair, hands behind his head as a servant hand fed him grapes. Yet here he was, cooking away, an apron tied around his neck and waist (with frills and little hearts, too, the flashy ass). You wouldn’t be surprised if it had ‘Kiss the Chef’ written across the front and oh, would you look at that, you were right.

“Goooood morning!” Satoru exclaimed, turning away from the stove to greet you. The apron was even flashier than you thought. For fuck’s sake, it had sequins on it. “How’d you– whoa. Nevermind, your hair answers that question.”

You subconsciously tried to flatten down your frizzy tangles once more, grumbling and pulling your gaze away from the atrocious fabric covering his chest that you would totally wear as well, gods, it was horrific. Your morning hair never liked to cooperate with you. “Morning.”

Yawning against the back of your hand, you climbed onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island and veered your body to the side, trying to see what he was cooking around his arm. It smelled sweet, the kind of sweet that was almost enough to make you nauseous, but wouldn’t actually cross that line. Kind of like dessert after you’ve filled yourself to bursting with dinner.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you said.

“Pancakes!” He exclaimed, sliding an already finished plate to you, soufflé pancakes stacked high atop, drizzled in chocolate and syrup. He even added fruit slices in an arch around the back, just to make it extra fancy.

Someone had a sweet tooth, it seemed. That, and it was obvious he was trying to show off his culinary skills, having the perfect reason to do so now.

But who were you to point that out? You were getting free food, and not even for the first time! Of course you were going to stuff yourself sick with these. Because, honestly, they did look incredible. You would have felt bad about devouring such art if your stomach wasn’t going nuts. 

“Wow, these smell amazing,” you said, scooping up a bite with the fork he passed you. You admired it, tilting it a few degrees in the light, then chomped down on it. 

The noise you made was downright unholy. Straight to the Second Circle with you, don’t even think about looking at the pearly gates of Heaven.

“Fuuuuck,” you keened as you immediately shoved another piece into your mouth. You savored the delectable meal with chubby cheeks, letting the sugary and fluffy delight overtake your senses. “This is so fuckin’ good.”

He cackled at your reaction as he finished cooking and styling up his own plate, ditching the eye-bleedingly ugly apron, and you realized a trice too late that you just stroked his ego considerably. “I didn’t know you could make those kinds of sounds,” he quipped. The sunlight pouring through a nearby window caught the lenses of his glasses when he slid into the seat beside you, making them glint the same way his eyes would if you could see them unobstructed. “Makes me wonder what other noises you can make.”

You almost choked on the pancake you were greedily wolfing down.

Okay, he was not allowed to say things like that while you were eating. And especially not in that voice, the one that lowered a couple octaves and had you squirming in your seat. Barely 10 minutes into the morning and you were already struggling to keep your composure around him.

You swallowed down your food stiffly and patted your sternum with a wee cough. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“You promised you’d let me use your hot spring first.”

“I can be patient!” Exclaimed the man who very much could not be patient.

You deadpanned, but your lips quivered as you tried to restrain a grin. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

He moped like he was told he couldn’t go to the park today. “You’re so mean to me. How could you? And right after I graciously agreed to house you, too.” Wow, he wasn’t kidding about not letting you live that down.

To make up for it and bring the whiny baby back into a good mood, you let him have a few bites of your food, and he lit up like a damn firework, scarfing them down without a second thought. He had this sort of boyish charm that was difficult to resist in a way that made you want to tease and taunt him endlessly. His statuesque features certainly aided his charisma. 

“By the way,” Gojo began, speaking around a piece of syrup-covered strawberry from his own dish. “There’s someone I want to introduce to you later. You’ll like him.”

You gave him a sidelong glance. Was this the second ‘someone’ Granny mentioned the day before? You shuddered at the thought of dealing with two Satoru’s. You barely knew the first one, and he was already a handful and a menace. You chewed quickly and swallowed to answer.

“Is he anything like you?” You asked, doing your best to be ladylike and eat the way a normal person would. You weren’t really succeeding.

He grinned wide. “He’s the best! Second to me, of course.”

“That does not answer my question,” you pointed an accusatory fork at him.

“Pshh, don’t worry. He’s cool. Well, not as cool as me, but very close.”

That still didn’t answer your question. More so, it put you on edge. You were already mentally preparing to get acquainted with this potential twin, doppelgänger, and/or clone.

“Can you at least tell me his name?”

“Geto Suguru,” he responded.

Geto Suguru, huh?

Same initials as Gojo Satoru. Same amount of syllables, too.

You were so fucked, weren’t you? 

The thought of having two copies of the gremlin beside you had you preemptively putting your hands on your nape to ease the tension. Figuratively, but possibly literally, depending on if height was something they shared.

“Alright,” you said. “When do you want me to meet him?”

“Oh, the time will come, you shouldn’t worry your pretty little head.”

Well, if that wasn’t the most cryptic shit that definitely had you worrying your pretty little head. Asshole, he was doing that on purpose, confirmed by that cunning expression he had as he observed you with his temple resting on his fist, elbow on the counter. He liked toying with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

He raised his brows. “Like what?”

“Like you’re planning some shit.”

Satoru pressed his fingers to his chest, feigning innocence. “Why, I’d never!”

He was absolutely planning some shit. All you could really do now was brace yourself for whatever was to come, though you were certain that no amount of readying yourself would keep you from getting swept off your feet. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

That was the wrong thing to say, considering he fucking swooned and tipped over, resting his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes, sighing like a schoolgirl. “I knew you thought I was handsome.”

You gave a long-suffering exhale and poked his cheek. “I said no such thing.”

“Yeah, but you looked it.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

“Just keep your eyes on me, pretty baby,” he directed and sat back up, reaching for his fork. “What’s on the agenda for you today?” He asked as he scooped up the rest of the syrup on his plate with the last bite of his food.

You coughed to cover your blush, grateful for the topic change. “Well, I guess take stock of all I’ll need to do with my house. I got a job at Granny’s store, so I’ll start working there in a few days.”

“Shit, really?” He gaped at you. “That fast?”

You nodded around your final piece of pancake, closing your eyes to savor the sublime flavor. You’d have to make him teach you to cook like that sometime, too.

A ‘whooh’ sound left him. “Impressive.”

“It’s weird,” you said. “Everything’s worked out so far, and I’ve barely been here for two and a half days. I’m getting suspicious.”

“Why?”

Your shoulders lifted and dropped. “Seems too good to be true. Gotta stay on my toes, y’know?”

Satoru ruffled your hair as he stood to stack your empty plates into the dishwasher. “You think too much, sweetheart.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Let me be paranoid.”

“You’ll just give yourself worry lines like that,” he cautioned, returning to press his index finger between your brows, “riiiight here. You gotta relax, princess. Chill out, do something fun.”

It was hard to, after spending so many years escaping metaphorical ghosts. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

He was right, you could really use a break from non-stop wariness. This was supposed to be a fresh start, after all. You washed your slate, unmarked of everything on purpose, keeping next to nothing but your name and the clothes on your back. No contacts, nobody waiting for you somewhere, no responsibilities or obligations holding you back. Who knew how long you’d get the chance to let go like this? Might as well take advantage of it.

You weren’t sure what would qualify as ‘fun’ here, but you were a new sprout, after all. What better way than to learn firsthand?

“Alright,” you agreed. “Recommend anything?”

“Hmm,” he lolled his head side to side. “Go to the bakery. It’s not far from Granny’s store, a couple streets north. Hard to miss, it’s got a big sign. We saw it on the way to Granny’s yesterday.”

You scratched through your memory, trying to remember exactly where it was. You had a fuzzy idea, but the benefit of living in such a small locale was that it wouldn’t be too difficult to find. “Will do, thanks. I’ll go after I check out my place first. I’ll need the emotional support after that.”

“Fair enough, I saw why,” he chortled. Oh, the exterior was nothing compared to the interior, sweet summer child. “You want a ride there?”

You considered it, then shook your head. “Nah, it’d be better for me to walk there to get more familiar with the town.”

“You sure?” He raised a brow, a teasing, lazy smirk crawling up his lips. “Won’t get lost?”

“Probably,” you snorted, “but experience is the best teacher, eh?”

He chuckled low in his throat. “If you do get lost, don’t be afraid to call me. I’ll be your prince in shining armor.” 

You made a ‘pffft’ noise and glared at him. He just smiled back like the dork he was. “It’s knight in shining armor.”

“Prince is better. I’m not some lowly knight.”

Drama queen. “Alright, whatever you say, prince. I’ll see you–” In the midst of slipping off the stool to get ready to leave, you stopped, remembering a key piece of information. “Hey,” you spoke up, rotating to scrutinize him with a squint. “How did you know my back door doesn’t have a lock?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “My friends and I would go there on dares when we were younger. Believed it was haunted, dumb kid shit, you know how it goes.”

Oh.

That– yeah, that sounded way more plausible and understandable than whatever ghost stories about kidnappers and serial killers you came up with. But he still could have phrased it better than he did, he didn’t have to go creepy-mode to convince you to stay with him for the time being.

“Why?” He chortled. “Thought I was gonna kidnap ya?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically, scratching the spot behind your ear sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

He snickered at your expense, bending down and lowering his voice into a rumbling murmur. “You never know. Maybe I will.”

“Har har,” you replied flatly. “Very funny.”

His lips curled further, eyes gleaming behind his shades. “Better keep your guard up, princess. Someone might just come and snatch you up when you least expect it.”

You scoffed as you swiveled and headed towards the front door. Satoru followed you in a way that reminded you of a puppy, or a mischievous cat, observing you as you tugged on your shoes. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I can scream really loud.”

“And if they cover your mouth?”

“I bite,” you grinned toothily.

He crooned. “I’ll keep that in mind. You sure you don’t need a ride?”

“I’ll be fine,” you dismissed his uncertainty and double checked your purse as you put it on. “I’ll catch you later.”

“Ah, wait, before you go,” he halted you, reaching out to search through a bowl on the console table pushed up to the wall. After a second or two of digging around, he pulled out a key attached to a ring and held it out to you. “Here, in case nobody’s home when you get back.”

You took it from him and turned it over in your palm, evaluating its untarnished sheen. “Thanks,” you tucked it away safely into a pocket in your purse. “Is it new?”

“Just a spare,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Put it to good use, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed.

He patted your head and you scowled at him. “I’ll be awaiting your call for when you need to be rescued.”

You stuck your tongue out at him as you opened the door and stepped out of it. “Dream on.”

His rolling laughter was the last thing you heard as you closed it behind you. The purity of the air awed you again. It was like a medium between you and nature, tickling every one of your senses. There was this certain liberating power in this valley, one that swelled behind your heart and spread out like hot tea on a cold winter morning.

It swirled in your stomach and radiated from your chest in time with your pulse, lulling and salving. Why had you never considered going to the countryside before? 

You were a city-hopper, bouncing from metropolitan hellscape to metropolitan hellscape, where the streets of downtown reeked of anything sickly, apartments were expensive to rent, and you only ever felt like a side character.

Restaurants there were always jam-packed, cafés were less of early day respites and more places of palpable depression. The bars were grimy and boozy, ear-piercingly loud and sweltering with the body heat of dozens of people pressed too tightly together, but at least they were good for one thing.

They were good for shutting down your brain. When it got too loud and too full, when the alcohol burned too much and the people were too touchy, that was when you went into autopilot and thrived in the bliss of silence created by the endless droning of the bass vibrating from your feet to your scalp. You hated liquor, just the thought of it made you queasy, but you craved the buzz it gave you back then.

You didn’t have that luxury now, but you didn’t need it. You hadn’t so much as thought about partaking in that vice since moving, actually. Had you known about the kind of life you could find here, you would have ditched the neon streets a long time ago.

The placidity of mostly untouched vegetation and of the tightly knit community provided a different kind of solace, one that distracted you with things far more interesting than paranoia and anxiety-driven overthinking.

You didn’t feel lost here. Not in the metaphorical sense. Literally had yet to be seen. It remained unfamiliar, but your panic had smoothed out from the first steps you had taken off the train. You could breathe without feeling like there were matches being held too close to your lungs, or needles aimed at your heart.

You didn’t hold onto hope, though. The pattern remained the same. Once you got used to this place, you’d hop on the next train and be on your less-than-merry way.

Will I ever stop running? You asked yourself frequently.

Nobody ever answered.

That’s alright. For now, you were okay. 

Choosing not to indulge in those ideologies, you followed the curving road back down the incline, noting that the car Ijichi had brought you in was gone. You’d need to find a way to thank him, as well as Granny. You didn’t like being indebted to people, especially if it put you at risk of getting tied down.

Satoru was a different problem entirely, since he was letting you live with him. Chores, rent, maybe another thing or two to keep the score level. You weren’t great on brainstorming ideas on how to return favors, but you’d figure it out. A good walk always helped make the creative juices flow.

You ruminated on who he wanted to introduce you to later, coming up with ideas about what he might be like. Hopefully a counterpart and not a duplicate, you weren’t sure how much you’d be able to handle if that was the case. 

If he was friends with Satoru, though, the likelihood of him driving you insane in one way or another was highly likely.

“I bet he’s disgustingly handsome, too,” you muttered cattily under your breath. “I’m gonna see him and the last brain cells I have are gonna explode.”

It didn’t help that you had no idea when you were going to meet this ‘Geto Suguru’. Would you have time to anchor yourself mentally? Would it be today, or a week from now? Could you even prepare at all?

Ugh.

Satoru was right, you thought too much.

As you roamed around, the shrine caught your eye once more, and you stopped to take it in. You hadn’t been to a shrine before – not this kind, anyway. The bigger ones in Tokyo didn’t count. You vaguely remembered how to pray, though you weren’t sure if you should. Paying respects, though, that was fine.

You nibbled on your bottom lip, debating. In the end, it wasn’t a hard choice. You would take any chance to procrastinate and delay facing the disaster awaiting you as much as you could. Except for the bakery Satoru recommended, you were saving that for after you made a plan for your house. You figured you’d want to stress eat afterwards to balm your troubled heart.

Besides, you weren’t sure if you’d have the time to visit after you got started on everything. You had a few days to use up, why not use them to check things out?

The trail leading up to it was easy to find, and though clearly well-traveled and requiring some exertion to traverse, it was clear that it was loved. The flowers on either side of the path were tended to with a compassionate hand, blooming and fragrant. You took a break on several occasions just to sniff a few, admiring them. 

Usually, you were picky about flowers. 

Most were less redolent and more bitterly pungent for you, such as roses. They were elegant, no doubt, but their scent always bordered on perfume-y in a way that reminded you more of an old folks’ home rather than pleasant and subtle beauty. Generally, florid notes made your face scrunch up like you ate something unexpectedly sour.

These flowers were just right, though. They still had those floral undertones, of course, but presented salubrious and fruity essences atop it. It made you mull over why every other flower you smelled before wasn’t palatable. 

Soon, the shrine entrance was in clear view. You traced your finger along the edge of a petal one last time before standing up from your squatting position and making your way over to it. The tower itself was mostly vertical in terms of size, decently small in contrast to the typically larger ones scattered about Japan, but it fit in perfectly with everything else here.

There were two stone benches on either side of the archway leading in, pressed up to the sturdy cobblestone foundation, and lanterns situated at the corners of both, reminding you of a few animated movies with similar designs you’d seen in the past. They were slightly shaded, turned a few degrees away from the sun, and you imagined it would be nice to read there and watch the sun fall asleep beyond the horizon.

The doors were open, guarded by dog-like statues, a bit crudely carved out. Satoru had mentioned it was a shrine dedicated to the wolves that used to roam the mountains, so the statues were likely meant to resemble them. You were curious about the interior, wanting to see the altar up close, since each place of prayer had their own uniquely made one, but the sight of a person clad in white and red kneeling in front of said altar within had you nixing that idea. You could do it another time.

She must have noticed your approach as her head lifted and she peeked partially over her shoulder. She rose up and rotated to face you, and you withheld your exasperation.

Right, this was just fucking ridiculous now, what the fuck.

Why was there another criminally attractive person in this godsforsaken valley? You got scammed, you wanted your money back. Everyone here was so out of your league, you felt like the dog that caught the baseball bat after it’s thrown rather than a player in the game. What, was there going to be an additional good-looking person, ready to knock the wind out of you?

Probably Geto.

If any of these people told you to get down on your knees and bark, you would have without question.

Seriously, why?

You should have been relishing existing in the presence of so many charming folks, but in reality, it just made you feel self conscious.

“Hello,” she greeted as she walked over to you, bringing you out of your internal raging monologue. “May I help you?”

“Oh,” you fluttered your lashes and stammered minutely, trying to recollect yourself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you. I just wanted to see the shrine.”

The shrine maiden’s lips tilted up politely. “You’re fine, don’t worry. Are you a tourist?”

“No,” you fidgeted with your thumb and index finger on your right hand. “I moved here recently. I’m checking around to get more acquainted with the area.”

Her brows rose a millimeter short of being comical. “Really? That’s surprising. Did one of the villagers leave that I didn’t know of?”

“Also no. I bought the house on the outskirts, uhh,” you twisted to scan behind you and pointed in the general direction of it. “That way.”

“That house? I thought they’d torn it down a long time ago. Why that one?”

You lowered your arm. “It was cheap. Gave me an excuse to move here properly.”

“I hope you’re not staying there, it’s dangerous,” she frowned, using a stern yet caring voice.

“I’m staying with Gojo Satoru while I fix it up.”

Immediately, the woman’s face twisted into a sneer of repulsion. Scorn shadowed over her honey-brown eyes, causing yours to widen as hers narrowed. “Run away while you still can,” she told you firmly. 

Well, that’s not worrisome at all.

What the hell did he do to her?

“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed.

She sighed as if the mere mention of Gojo had stripped a few years off her lifespan. “He’s the devil in disguise.”

Was anyone ever going to give you a straight answer about him? “Did he…do something?”

Her scorn turned to ire and agitation in a snap. “He’s so obnoxious! And arrogant, I can’t stand to be around him, he pisses me off to no end,” she downright snarled, heat rising to her cheeks from her anger. “He acts all high and mighty when he’s just a spoiled brat that refuses to respect his elders!”

“Oh–”

“Me!” She pointed harshly at herself. “I’m his elder! Well, I mean, not the only one, but still! He was raised like a golden child, given everything he wanted. He loooves getting on everyone’s nerves, especially mine. Get away from him or he’ll send you to an early grave, miss.”

You didn’t know what you were expecting when you came to view the shrine, but a rant from a peeved miko definitely wasn’t anywhere on your list of possibilities. His name alone sent her into a tailspin, and you would have regretted it if seeing her go off about the man wasn’t more entertaining than it had any right to be. You did feel bad, but madly interested, too.

“I…see,” you reacted stiltedly, stifling a laugh. “Are you, like, exes or something?”

She gaped at you as if you had informed her of her puppy’s passing. “What? No! Absolutely not! I– how could– never even mention–” She abruptly stopped herself, took a few intensely deep breaths to calm herself, then she was smiling kindly again as if nothing had happened. “Where are my manners? I’m Iori Utahime, a miko. It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you are?”

Left reeling from her unexpected 180 in demeanor, you stuttered out your own name in response, to which she nodded in approval.

“A lovely name. You said you moved here recently? How fun! What brought you to this valley?”

Satoru had several questions to answer for the next time you saw him. If you had a notepad and pen, you would have been writing them down like a P.I., bobbing your head with a solemn face as you asked Iori to recount her history of events.

“I came to study abroad in Tokyo a few years back, and fell in love with the country,” you said. “I’m not big on cities, though, so coming here seemed perfect.”

Maybe you were embellishing your story a bit, but in all fairness, you didn’t know her. Besides, clean slate; you had no story before this, why not paint one now that you had the freedom to?

You weren’t going to whip up some grand tale about how you were this astonishingly intelligent, leading programmer in your country that did impressive work for science (that was your mother), but it didn’t hurt to fib the truth a small amount. The part about studying abroad was true, anyway.

She appraised you with an interested visage. “I see, I see. Where are you originally from?”

Man, people loved asking that, huh?

It’s not like you could blame them, you’d do the same in their place. You were a foreigner, they were going to treat you like one.

“Ah,” you told her of your place of origin. “It’s nothing special. I mostly traveled.”

“Oh? How did you make money?”

“Freelance,” you answered. “Odd jobs here and there, enough to keep myself afloat. Have you traveled before, Iori-san?” 

You could see the overjoyed spark in her eyes that someone was finally respecting her. “Only within the country,” she responded, somewhat somber. “I’ve always wanted to see what it’s like outside Japan.”

You tilted your head back to see the sky and think of suggestions. What do the stars look like here? “Depends on where you go. Some places are very packed and have lots of things to do no matter where you go, like Europe. Other places are more sparse, like the States.”

“But the States have more people,” the woman pointed out.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, “but that country is massive and people there tend to group into major cities, rather than be spread out. California is technically bigger than the entirety of Japan, but has way less people.”

Her eyes bulged in surprise. “Really?”

“Yep. It’s why you might hear Westerners say ‘there’s nothing to do here’,” you glanced at the structure behind her. “You guys revere wolves here, right?”

Utahime clapped her hands twice eagerly. “That’s correct! How’d you know?”

Based on her reaction to you merely mentioning Satoru, you figured it’d be best if you didn’t tell her the source of your information. “I’ve heard about it. I was curious, I haven’t been to a smaller shrine like this one before. Only the bigger ones in Tokyo, but those were part of my assignments, rather than for leisure.”

“Oh, it’s not much,” she espied at it from over her shoulder, but you could see the pride in her eyes. It was well taken care of, with love and chariness. It easily passed off as something constructed more recently, given its meticulous maintenance.

“How long ago was it built?”

“Around the same time the settlers first came here.”

This time, your eyes were the ones that opened wide. It had to have been at least 350 years old in that case, based on a rough estimate. “That far back? Wow, it’s in seriously good shape.”

The woman puffed up her chest. “Though the wolves have long since died out here, we still honor them. They helped us with hunts and allowed this village to thrive when we needed it most. They protected us from cursed spirits, as well. It’s only right we treat them and the bounties they’ve given us with respect.”

Oh, there was that term again: cursed spirits. “Could you tell me more about cursed spirits?”

Enthusiasm bubbled up in her the way it would in a child about to tell their parents about the story they wrote up. She skipped over to one of the stone benches and plopped down onto it, patting the spot beside her. You slid onto it, a chill shooting up your spine from the cold temperature. Being shaded from the sun made the rock gelid, go figure.

“Now! Let’s start from the beginning as we know it,” she cleared her throat and took on the role of a teacher. “The origin of cursed spirits and jujutsu sorcery as a whole is largely unknown. It’s speculated that spirits have lived alongside humanity from the beginning of it, as cursed energy is formed by negative emotions, and cursed energy is what spirits are born from.”

She was very animated when teaching, you noticed. Lots of hand movements, facial expressions, and a bouncy attitude to boot. It made for a very entertaining show, and did well to keep you engaged.

“Curses were invisible to humans. Only a select few could see them, and even fewer could actively interact with them in some way or another,” she continued. “Smaller curses would typically leech off of people without them knowing it, feeding off their bad emotions. Stronger curses, however, could be incredibly powerful. Sometimes to the point of standard weapons being completely useless against them, which is why jujutsu sorcery came to fruition. We needed some way to fight back against the spirits, so we developed a way to do just that by manipulating the natural reserves of cursed energy we had within us.”

Folklore from other countries always captivated you. From the creator of mankind in some Chinese mythos named Nüwa, to the counterpart of the equivalent of Santa in Germany, the origin of Halloween and turnip lanterns – even the oddly terrifying ones without nefarious intentions, like Mari Lwyd.

You adored hearing about legends, stories, and tales passed down through oral and written history over the centuries of life existing in each respective land. To say she had you hooked would be an understatement.

What were curses like? Assuming they were real, of course, and that jujutsu sorcery didn’t follow the same ideology as hanging witches. Were they ugly? Bipedal? Humanoid at all? 

“Many natural disasters are blamed on curses, even to this day,” she began lifting her fingers as she counted off a few examples. “Earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts. Pretty much anything you can think of.”

“Were they kinda like demons?”

“Eh,” she tilted her hand side to side a few times. “Yes and no. Depends on who you ask, really. They could be different from demons of hell, or they could be one and the same.”

“I see,” you pinched your chin. “So, where’d they go, then?”

She grasped one of her pigtails, running her fingers through the open and loose portion at the top of it. “Nobody really knows. Some think that sorcerers were able to eradicate them at the source, and died off since they weren’t needed anymore. It could be that the curses have simply lost power due to the progression of mankind, and particularly therapy, though it’s…still kind of taboo. Some claim they’re still around, we just don’t notice because we aren’t able to see any of it.”

Satoru’s words on the matter echoed in your mind. ‘Even if they are real, there's no way they'd beat me.’

You bit your cheek to hold back an unwitting snicker. Leave it up to Satoru to say some brazen shit and have it pop up in your head at random.

“What about you? What do you think?” You asked.

Utahime flicked a piece of invisible dirt off the front of her hakama. “I believe they exist. It’s part of why I’m a miko, and one of the reasons I maintain this shrine. It’s my duty. Curses may not be the same now as they were back then, but that’s no reason for me to slack off. Complacency breeds contempt.”

It was heartwarming, in a way, to see someone still holding onto traditions like these, working to keep her friends, family, and home safe, upholding the rules within and outside places of prayer. You admired her for it.

Not that you would personally want to be a shrine maiden, but you held them in high esteem nonetheless.

“And you?” She peered at you. “Do you believe in the supernatural?”

You closed your eyes for a moment, stretching your legs in front of you and idling back on your hands. “I’m agnostic, neither here nor there. I respect spaces that are considered sacred, I’d rather not get hexed, but I don’t go out of my way to hunt down, let’s say, ghosts.”

“I commend you, many could stand to learn a thing or two from you,” as she spoke, she stood up and brushed off the back of her kosode. “You are good company, though I fear I should get back to work soon.”

“Ah,” you got up as well and bowed to her. “Thank you for sharing your stories with me, Iori-san. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

She waved her hand. “You didn’t, don’t worry. Come visit me again soon, okay? I’d love to hear stories of your travels as well.”

“Sure,” promised easily, more than content to exchange tales with her. “Stay safe.”

“Likewise,” the noirette disappeared back into the shrine with a final word of parting, leaving you to your devices.

While you didn’t get to see the altar inside, you considered the visit worthwhile, and got a new acquaintance out of it, too. You could come back to check it out another day.

Having burned through all the reasonable amount of procrastination time you allowed yourself, you voyaged back down the path, appreciating the blooms the whole way down the same way you had when you went the other way. You had to ask Utahime if she was the one tending to them next time you saw her.

You were proud to say that you only got lost twice. But you did find the bakery on the way, and memorized where it was once you located the path home. Not bad, not bad at all. You managed to find your way around, and you didn’t need to embarrass yourself by calling Satoru to come to your rescue.

It’s sad how low your standards for happiness had fallen, but you’d take any crumb of serotonin you could find.

You noticed the trip to your house was shorter whenever you actively didn’t want to go there, as if it was a living creature that purposefully made you arrive faster, just so you had to give it attention.

It stood, looming, mocking you. Taunting you, the monstrosity. What an asshole.

The outside matters came first, the less time you had to spend inside, the better. You pulled up the notes app on your phone and began the task of drafting everything you needed to deal with, denoting it as the ‘Outdoor’ section in your native tongue.

Fence, you typed down, scribbling sporadic thoughts as you went. Tear down? Repair? Replace?

You checked the ends and noted that the fence only went back about halfway into your property, leaving the back uncovered. Covers only front. Built like that? Collapsed/removed in the back? 

You felt the stalks of yellow-ish green leafage with your palm, the tips reaching your hips. Cut down grass and weeds. You should plant pollinator flowers if the yard was ever cleared out well enough. It’d be nice to have some butterflies and bees around to help everything grow nice and healthy. 

You lightly nudged a piece of a busted plant pot with the toe of your shoe. Dispose of broken pots. A slight stumble had you leering down to see a strangely shaped tile. You tilted your head in confusion, then peered up at the edge of the roof, deducing it was a shingle that had fallen off. You stepped further away from the roof, just in case. And fallen & loose shingles.

Rounding the side, you waded through the overgrown flora, poring over the condition of the rundown house’s environment. Remove ivy from walls. Set up trellises. Lattices to form a backyard/patio/garden/thing?

Angling your chin up, you placed your hand over your forehead and assessed the roof. From on the ground, you wouldn’t be able to completely acknowledge the damage done to it over the years it sat untouched, but you were reluctant to climb on it to see first hand. You didn’t have a ladder, for starters, and you liked having unbroken bones and working shins. 

Get a ladder.

The back of the estate was in the same condition as everything else. Which is to say, disheartening. 

“What’ve I got myself into…” You muttered.

You spotted a narrow garden plot built into the back of the house. Overgrown, yes, but it’d be perfect for planting stuff when you got it all cleared up.

It wasn’t a question of ‘if’, unfortunately. You had no other real choice besides mending what was left in your hands.

You were still miffed at the real estate agent. You likely wouldn’t have purchased this piece of land had you known what was ahead. Or if you were in a better state of mind, honestly, rather than being in the middle of your fight-or-flight phase of living.

“No good dwelling on the past,” you whispered to yourself as you circled back to the front. “Can’t change it now.”

You took a deep, long, full breath, enjoying the fresh and crisp air while you still could. You savored the temperate hints of nature and the clement weather, treating it like it would be your last time experiencing such comfort. You didn’t know if your nostrils (or you) would survive the excursion into hell you were about to go on, so you weren’t risking taking the breeze for granted.

Exhaling all in one big puff, you steeled your shoulders and pushed open your front door, your free hand covering your nose in anticipation. Replace hinges and/or front door.

It managed to punch you in the gut regardless. 

New section in your notes open, you got to work typing. The most obvious issues came first, such as the floors, the peeling walls, and exposed boning and pipes. A lot would possibly need to be replaced, such as the counters in the kitchen, cupboards…

Floor rotted(?) and sticky. Wash?

Spackle for holes in walls? New drywall instead?

Check insulation.

Your spirits fell more and more with each additional item of note you wrote onto the list. Could any of this be salvaged? Were you better off tearing it down?

Remove tatami. Replace? Don’t?

Stepping into what you assumed was the master bedroom, you made your way over to the sleeping bag you left behind and cautiously rolled it up, maneuvering around the grime stuck to it, and placed it against a corner. You’d toss it when you got the chance to.

M-bed closet missing doors and shelf.

Seeing the window, you tip-toed to it, hoping to open it to air out the room. Your nose formed bunny lines at the cobwebs littering the sill and edges. While there weren’t any spiders – as far as you could see – you still did not enjoy touching them in the slightest.

Pushing up from the center of the window proved to be futile, the frame wasn’t going to be budging anytime soon.

Windows stuck.

Remove spider webs.

There was litter here and there – torn pieces of paper, a ripped open baggie, fabric – that you decided to leave as is. Along with not having gloves to pry them off the ground, you didn’t have anything to throw them away into. They got to live another day.

Toss out trash.

The shower and bathroom had a cupboard tucked off to the side, but opening it showed the middle platform separating the top and bottom within was crumbly and would break if you put any weight on it.  Replace shelf in bathroom cupboard.

The tiles were all fucked up, too. Some were chipped, others were outright broken or missing. Rust had gathered around the tap and drain in the tub, likely from years of having a leaky faucet before it ran out of water to drip.

Clean out rust in bath/pipes. Throw away broken floor tiles. Replace.

You pulled the left handle of the sink faucet and waited for a few seconds to see if the plumbing was functional.

Which was a big, fat no.

Plumbing. Faucets.

Limescale on shower head, wall tiles.

You scrolled through what notes you had already created and chewed on the corner of your bottom lip, thinking of what else you might have needed to write down. You fixated blankly on the wall in front of you as you went over everything, then quickly typed out a few more things.

Electricity.

Check for asbestos, lead in paint.

You figured the tasks you needed to do would pop up as you went along, considering your notes to be a simple skeleton outline. You could jot down other things as needed, and work through them one by one.

Having done as much as possible while staying inside for as long as you could tolerate, you walked back outside and dug around in your purse for the piece of paper Granny had given you, the one with names and numbers of people that could help you in this endeavor.

To say you were beginning to panic would be an understatement. You already bought the damn thing, and doubted you’d be able to resell it and get all your money back. You also didn’t want to subject anyone to repairing the thing when it was both a health hazard and an embarrassment. 

You had some reserve money, but it wasn’t a whole lot, so you required that job Granny gave you.

Gojo said you could stay with him for however long you needed, but that was with the expectation that you’d leave once your house was fixed up. Given the village’s size, it was unlikely that you would find another place within it to live in, even after saving up some money working for Granny. You didn’t want to piggy-back off anyone and be an imposition; the only reason you felt less guilty about staying with the moon-haired idiot was due to the sheer amount of space he had in his mansion.

You were swiftly running out of options.

Your lips paled as you pressed them tightly together, trying to wrack your mind for ideas. You couldn’t sell it, and you didn’t want to deal with the humiliation of having strangers work for you. In such a small town, word spread like fire on a dry wick. Who knows what they would say about you?

Realistically, it wasn’t your fault, you knew this. The house hadn’t been built under your name and, hell, was likely older than you by at least a decade or two. It didn’t fall to ruin because of you, but you were the owner of this house now, the responsibility rested on your shoulders.

You read through the list of handymen under your thumb, the paper shaking slightly from the death grip you had on it.

Repairing it on your own was technically an option, but you would be basically begging for severe injuries or even death by attempting that. You wouldn’t even know where to start. Foundation? Floors? Structure? Roof? You didn’t fucking know how to do any of that shit!

…Or you could just burn the damn eyesore to the ground ‘til there was naught but ashes left.

No, that was a stupid idea, but you were out of any good ones.

The thought you had previously of tearing it down and buying a garden shed to reside in was feeling more and more tempting by the hour. It was unreasonable, you knew, you simply…didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

You were used to doing things alone. You relied solely on yourself, trusted only your own words and intentions. Letting people in was not something you did for many reasons. Maybe you did crave closeness and camaraderie at some point in the distant past, but the concept was out of the question entirely now. It made uncomfortable butterflies sit heavy in your stomach, the urge to vanish into the treelines and never be seen again increasing with each extraneous person you invited into your life.

You sighed. “I should have just moved into the woods and turned into a witch,” you grumbled low, then scoffed sardonically. “Right, as if I wouldn’t accidentally poison myself with a weird mushroom on day three and die a horrible, painful, slow death.”

The two lists you had remained in your somewhat reluctant hands. You knew you were way in over your head, and you’d probably unintentionally curse the house sooner than you managed to make a positive change, but…you weren’t used to asking for help. Always the type to manage shit on your own, get things done yourself, be independent. Could you really be faulted for having a hard time reaching out to anyone else?

Especially since you hadn’t even met any of them yet. That would be disconcerting, asking folks you’d never seen – let alone spoken to – before to work for you.

Your phone singed your fingers. You did know someone, and knew that he was just a phone call away, but did you really want to deal with him of all people? He would take this chance to rub it all in your face and then some.

You carefully weighed your choices.

Rebuild the house yourself with no former experience with anything beyond shitty popsicle stick bird huts.

Call someone on the list, explain your situation, and ask for help.

Call the prick.

…By the gods, you really hated making calls to people you didn’t know.

Shamefully carping to yourself, you dialed Satoru’s number, trying to ignore the contact name he had set up for himself. It was so glitzy, the ✨❤️ Satoru ❤️✨ sitting at the top of the call screen making you stifle a short laugh, ironically lifting your spirits. “Here goes nothing…”

He answered within three rings. “Yo, been a while, princess” Satoru purred as if you hadn’t seen him that morning, and you rolled your eyes, despite not being there in person for him to see.

“You greet every girl like that?”

“Nope, just you,” you could hear his grin. “Whatcha need?”

Now came the part where you set aside your pride and voiced what you very much did not want to. Again. You’d known this man for barely 24 hours and he already had several wins over you. In…whatever game you decided you were losing. “Look, I…I need your help.”

“Oho? What’s this? Is the princess finally admitting how much she misses me?” 

Smug dick.

“I did not say that,” you immediately berated him.

He simply hummed, unaffected. “Same thing.”

You ran your hand down your face, already exasperated just 30 seconds into the call. “You– ugh, just, can you help me or not?”

“Depends on what you need, sugar plum. Did ya get lost already?”

This man was going to be the cause of your madness. The bridge of your nose ached where you pinched it. “Granny gave me a list of people to call to help me with my house and I really don’t want to call any of them.”

“Then don’t.” 

“And, what, do everything by myself?”

You could envision him shrugging. “Why not? I could help you.”

“Satoru, I trust a wild forest fire more than I trust you with a hammer.”

“Ouch,” he sucked air through his teeth, faux whimpering. “You’re such a bully. Fine, I’ll help you with contacting everyone.”

Oh, that took less fighting and groveling than you expected. You exhaled in relief. “Thank you–”

“On,” he interrupted you, “one condition.”

There it is.

Your skin began to sting as you dug your nails harder into it, leaving curved indents between your eyes. “Y’know what, I think I’ll be fine–”

“Ah-ah-ah, hang on a second there, pretty girl. Hear me out.”

Conceding, you sighed and urged him to make his request. “Fine, what is it?”

"Cook something for me,” he requested. “Consider it evening the score.”

Your face scrunched up into a question mark. “Wait, that’s it?

“What, do you want it to be more?”

“No, no, I can do that,” you quickly declined, biting on the edge of your thumbnail as you tried to think of something to prepare for him. “Do you have any preferences?”

“Sweets.”

Sweet stuff. Okay, you could work with that. You could bake some pretty killer macarons. You didn't know what ingredients he had at home, or how to operate his oven, but you'd just figure it out, right?

“Alright, I can do that,” you answered.

“We have a deal, then?”

You took a moment to consider. You could back out, but your introverted personality made that notion null. It was only baking, too, rather than the ghastly demand you were expecting him to make. Baking it is. “Deal.”

“Great! We’ll be over in a flash!~”

“Okay–” wait. “‘We’–?”

He hung up before you could ask. You groaned and contemplated smashing your phone against the ground, but decided against it. You needed the thing, unfortunately.

Since you had to wait for however long, you chose to add in some thoughts to what you’d already written down, brainstorming how you wanted to proceed. It was difficult to tell at this stage, before you started on anything. But you could pick out what you might want to plant; flowers, vegetables, a fruit tree or two. So what if you were fantasizing? It helped keep you calm. Escapism was a valid coping mechanism.

It was too hard to picture anything given the state of the house, though. You’d need to snip down the field first and go from there, when you could see everything clearly.

How much did contractor services cost in Japan? What about the people Granny knew, how much did they charge? What kind of services did they provide? Your toe tapped repeatedly as you stepped outside your fence, trying not to pace.

Would you need one, or multiple? Were you going to have to get materials from the nearby city by yourself, or would they do that? If the former, how?

“I need an adult,” you lamented, your shoulders slouching and arms folding over your chest. “I wanna die. I’m not mature enough for this shit.”

You recalled what your mother told you often when you were younger: ‘not everything at once.’

Easier said than done. Sleep on it, one step at a time, break it down into shorter tasks, nothing was taking the edge off your stress.

“I’ll just start with the grass,” you muttered, eventually succumbing to the need to pace. “I have to start somewhere, and I’ll need to get rid of that before anything else can be done. Oh, but, fuck, there’s so much of it…not to mention debris, rocks…do they still make scythes? Can’t launch a pebble with a scythe. No, wait, that’d be so much more effort and take more time…”

A flicker of alabaster down the road caught your eye, halting your hurried back-and-forth roving and hushed bleating.

Satoru was always easy to spot from a distance. It was hard not to see him when his hair redirected the sun like a mirror, blinding anyone who saw him from the wrong angle. He was the angel on your shoulder with the personality of the devil, urging you to dive into your most heinous and blasphemous thoughts. The light bouncing off his head created a glowing aura around it, resembling a silver halo, further pushing that deceptive angel motif.

Would the halo turn gold in the light of the crimson rays of fading day?

You uncrossed your arms, ready to greet him, only to notice the man beside him. They were conversing, and the latter must have said something funny, as the former guffawed hysterically. It echoed off the mountains on either side of the valley, reaching you with no concern for distance. 

Did such bellows reach across the entire settlement, or was it localized, feeling louder than it actually was due to an echo chamber effect?

Gojo’s cachinnation dissipated when the pair were close enough to you, at which point he waved his hand high in the air to greet you avidly, like you weren’t only 20 feet from them.

“Hey! Didn’t keep ya waitin’ too long, did we?”

Truthfully, the fifteen or so minutes you had been waiting for them had gone by in a flash when you were so deeply buried in your spiraling thoughts while remembering dumb shit sprinkled into your internal ranting. The only evidence of your anticipation for their arrival being the barely present ache in your heels from where you rested most of your weight on them.

“No, not long,” you assured, fighting hard to keep your eyes off his friend for however long possible, vainfully clinging to your sanity. You knew that as soon as you centered your vision on him, your ability for conscious thought would evaporate. 

You wanted to present yourself as at least marginally normal as a first impression, though you doubted you were achieving that by avoiding the obvious third presence. You were surely coming off as rude, you really should–

“This one's Geto Suguru,” Gojo introduced the noiret by his side, nipping your overthinking at the bud.

At last, your full attention was guided to him.

Oh.

Oh. That was a mistake.

‘This one’ was breathtaking.

His midnight hair caught the sunlight in a scintillating iridescence that shifted between the deepest phthalo blue you’d ever seen and a mesmerizing sheen of violet when the light caught it just right, like the feathers of a raven. It struck you how glossy and luxuriously silky it was, and you wanted to pull it out of the high bun he kept it in to run your fingers through it endlessly. That one loose section of his bangs that hovered over his eye was just so cute, your digits itched to tug on it.

And, speaking of, those eyes. 

Sharp enough to cut diamonds and make you stand straighter. Heat rose to your cheeks as he observed you, head cocked to the side with a smooth and sweet smile that absolutely melted your insides like soft-serve ice cream, lily-livered and defenseless against the blazing sun incarnate in the form of a man.

They were dark, yet warm; a rich chocolate in hue that you could swear had flecks of gold within and rings of wisteria coiling around his abyssal pupils.

He was tall and foreboding, just like Satoru, but in a completely different fashion. He was the radiant Sol, pacifying and precious heat licking at your skin, soothing away the frostbite of winters long past. 

Beside him stood the Moon, reflective and brilliant and so goddamn cocky that it made your cheeks hurt – whether from biting the insides of them to hide back a smile, or to prevent yourself from smacking that shameless attitude out of him, you didn’t know. It didn’t matter. 

Satoru’s pearly locks contrasted sharply with Suguru’s obsidian lace, providing a striking visual. These godly beings towered over you, imposing and otherworldly and too good to be true, yet you knew your imagination could never come up with men like them.

And you?

You poor, dear, sweet, dumb little lamb. A pathetic speck caught in the gravity they created. Two black holes, eager to suck you in and rip you to shreds, and you were tempted to let them, practically falling into them without their overwhelming influence affecting you.

Their presence, their power, their very existence that demanded you drop to your knees to worship and beg like the tragic whore you were dominated your consciousness, filling it with fantasies you hadn’t experienced in…gods, ever. Nobody exuded the same aura they did, nobody made you weak-kneed and left you aching between your thighs, not like this. They created a desire in you that you wanted to have fulfilled – needed, even.

The pop of your knuckle in your fist that you had subconsciously created managed to snap you from your revere and back into the present, reminding you that, perhaps, you should do something, rather than drool like an idiot. 

You’ve gone fucking crazy. That was it, the last straw, the last hauntingly magnificent person. Why, oh, why did you move here?

With no small amount of embarrassment at the realization that your panties were a bit more damp than they were a minute ago, you clenched your jaw hard enough to anchor yourself, and made a mental note to get rid of the problem between your legs as soon as you were alone and could succumb to the pleasure, the yearning, you hadn’t experienced in ages.

As well as pretend it wasn’t caused by them, the iconic duo that had you in a mental fit.

Hoping you hadn’t made a total fool of yourself, you turned and bowed respectfully, saying your name in return as you stared at the ground in an attempt to clear your mind of the filth it created on its own, unprompted. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Geto-san.”

Suguru studied you for a few seconds (don’t look at me like that, please, I’m begging you, spare me), then faced the male beside him with an amused expression. “Are you sure this is the same girl you were telling me about? The brat?”

Oh, heavens, that voice.

Fire exploded across your cheeks and pooled deep in the lower pits of your stomach when you heard him say that word; enunciate it clearly, croon it in that damned tone that had electricity jolting up your spine.

Not now, slut. Focus.

It was significantly easier to ignore the unholy fantasies plaguing your sanity when you centered all that pent up energy into being annoyed at Satoru, questioning your already questionable friendship when you learned of what he called you in private. Your eyes narrowed into an icy glare, primed and deadly. To your agitation and further chagrin, he only smirked boyishly at you.

“That’s the one,” he replied with a widening grin as he tucked his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“She's far too polite,” Geto countered.

Satoru snorted. “Trust me, she's a spitfire.”

“Is that so…” The onyx-haired man bent down to come closer to your face, and your breath hitched in your throat, refusing to come out properly. His scent embraced you. Mild, pleasant, like warm chai and jasmine, making your muscles instinctively loosen.

His eyes softened into closed curves as he beamed at you. You really hoped he couldn't read your mind. There was nothing holy or sane in there.

“Your name is lovely as is,” he murmured as his voice lowered into a roguish octave, “but I think I have a better one in mind.”

“W-What?” Your own vocal cords strained just to get the one word out in a wimpy squeak, and of course you just had to stutter. Whereas the air Satoru emitted naturally made you want to tackle him to the ground, Suguru’s wrapped around you like wisps of incense smoke, soothing and gently demanding your obsession with its fragrance. It inexplicably made you want to thaw into a puddle, to give him your full and undivided focus.

His canines peeked through from the way his lips curled further, entertained by your sudden timidness. He remained quiet, merely viewing your reactions as he lifted a hand to loop a strand of your hair around his finger and by the gods, don’t look at his fingers and how long and big they are and how perfect they’d feel–

“Angel,” the man said, practically cooing it at you.

You stifled a croak, verbally cuffed out of your totally, positively, very wholesome thoughts. “What?”

If you could die from embarrassment and be let out of this hell hole, you’d keel over on the spot when he simpered. “Angel,” he so graciously repeated for you. “I believe it suits you quite well. Wouldn’t you say so, Satoru?”

Satoru was having the time of his life, you were sure of it. You could feel him staring into you, see that stupid sexy fucking smile on his face from the corner of your eye as he teased you and, shit, why were you in the middle of this? Had you committed some heinous sin? Was this your punishment? 

“I don’t know,” he hummed in deliberation. “I prefer bunny. Or mochi.” 

“Mochi?” You and Suguru questioned at the same time, swiveling to regard the alabaster man.

Gojo nodded. “Small, probably tastes sweet, squishy.”

“Squishy?” You gaped incredulously, relocating your befuddled scrutiny to Geto when he burst out into laughter.

“I can see it,” Suguru coincided, earning himself a pretty nasty glare, too.

You groaned and tilted your face up, pleading with the sky to give you strength. “Don’t you start, too. One Satoru is enough, thanks.”

He hummed and smirked, something mischievous twinkling in his eyes. You didn't like that countenance. Not one bit. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” he bowed his head towards you, changing the subject. Thank fuck. “You moved here recently, yes?”

“Yeah,” you affirmed, molling the racing of your heart that was just a few beats short of being uncomfortable. “Technically the night before yesterday.”

“You had a safe trip, then, I hope?”

You sent the stone stepping path partially hidden by the overgrown grass a particularly scathing grimace. “I almost ate shit and died on my own porch, but I did, yes.”

His husky laugh was messing up your insides. “Glad you’re in one piece. It was the stepping stones, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, oh, my god. They’re out to kill me, I swear.”

“They’ve gotten me a couple times, too. It’s good to see this house will finally be getting some love.”

“I think you’re the only person that’s been positive about this so far,” you scratched your cheek with your index finger. “Everyone else has told me it’s grossly dangerous. Wish I’d known that before I skimped out on finding a place to stay for the first night…”

Suguru’s browline furrowed in disquietude. “You slept in there?”

You exhaled harshly and hung your head. “Don’t remind me.”

“You aren’t feeling sick, are you?”

You shook your head and patted his arm reassuringly. “No, just humiliated.”

His expression relaxed, the hardness in his deep maroon eyes tempering. “That’s good. If you do feel ill, don’t brush it off. Excess activity can worsen your health and prolong sicknesses.”

Aww, a mother hen? He was in your good books now, you felt all fluffy, being cared for by him. “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

Satoru pushed his way between you two, resting one arm on Suguru’s shoulder and the other on your head, coveting your attention. “So, what’s the plan, mochi?”

“Good question,” you said.

There was a brief pause, as if you were all waiting for someone else to speak, before he leaned down towards you. “Well?”

“What?”

“The plan? What’s the plan?” He lifted a brow. 

“Oh,” you darted your eyes between them. “Oh, no, I don’t have one. I just said it’s a good question.”

Suguru frowned. “Nothing at all?”

You pulled up your notes app and scrolled through it. “I guess cut the lawn, and call up the folks on Granny’s list for starters.”

“Can I see her list?”

“Mm,” you held out the paper to him, cringing when you saw how your fingers wrinkled the corner of it out of stress.

A crease in his forehead formed, deepening the more names he read, making you nervous. On top of how nervous you were already feeling. You were nervous-squared now.

“What is it?” You asked.

“It’s nothing. Just…I don’t think any of these guys will have enough free time to help you out. Not for a while, anyway,” he returned the sheet to you. “However, I grew up assisting them, so I know a thing or two. Mind if I go inside?”

Well, if that wasn’t soul crushing. “If you have a gas mask, go ahead. The smell inside could knock out a grown man. I don’t want to trouble you, though.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ve been needing something to do these days, this could be the perfect excuse for me,” he assured you. “I’ll be quick.”

“Oh– hang on, there might be asbestos in there,” you warned.

“There isn’t,” he assured confidently.

Satoru narrowed his eyes. “How do you know? Huh? Were you there when this house was built? Didn’t think so.”

Suguru leveled him with a vacant lour. “Asbestos wasn’t used in the construction of any houses here. Besides being expensive to import, our village was constructed with traditional methods. This building was Western inspired, but it wasn’t built with Western methods.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, nervously picking at a spot on your forearm. “Who built it?”

“From what I know, it was someone from either Kobe or Osaka that visited a state in America on vacation and fell in love with the architecture. First thing they did when they came back was buy this plot of land and build an imitation house on it,” he answered.

“Why’d they leave?”

He raised a hand, then dropped it in a half-shrug. “Any number of reasons. Some of the older folks say that their spouse fell ill, and they had to return to the city. My mom says they moved out because they got sick of driving an hour and a half one way to get to work every day. Dad says their sister gave birth and they had to return and assist her since she worked full time. Who knows.”

“Eh?” Satoru’s expression twisted into one of confusion. “I thought the owner just died or something. Hence why the house is haunted.”

“The house isn’t haunted, Satoru. Don’t scare her.”

You cracked your knuckles one-by-one. “If it is haunted, I’m gonna give that realtor hell. He promised it wasn’t. He also promised it hadn’t been touched in only ten years, so he’s already on my list,” you growled, then deflated and wilted. “I suppose I’m not in any rush, I’ll need to save up anyway. I’m bumming off Satoru for now, but I don’t wanna prolong that.”

“I already told you,” he patted your upper back. “Stay as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Satoru. I really owe you,” you said. I hate owing people. “Oh– be careful, Geto-san.”

He gave a pacifying hand wave as he pushed past your open gate, heading towards your house. Satoru hopped up and hurried after him. “Oi, wait up! I wanna see, too!” 

“Satoru, you’ve already been in there before,” Suguru reminded him as you followed them about halfway, wanting to steer clear of the inside for a while.

Satoru twisted the door knob and pushed inwards. “Yeah, when we were kids. Imagine how much it’s changed!”

“I doubt it’s changed much,” their voices grew muffled and eventually silent to you as they disappeared into your home.

You began counting in your head. If they were gone for more than two minutes, you were going to assume they died. Then you could officially label the house as haunted and hunt that realtor’s ass down. After you set up a prayer altar for the boys who so bravely sacrificed their lives for you, obviously, they deserved that at the very least.

You’d have to check with the villagers to see if either of them practiced any particular faith to ensure you provided the correct funeral services for them, and to know if you needed to follow any specific spiritual rules when it came to the deceased.

Should you leave their bodies in there? Probably not, no, but it wasn’t going to be you fishing them out. You were tiny compared to them, you wouldn’t be able to drag them out yourself, even if you wanted to and tried really hard.

Your peculiar funeral fantasies were cut off when Suguru came back outside, still very much alive and well – from what you could tell.

“You lived,” you congratulated him.

“That I did,” he affirmed and stopped beside you, turning to face the house as his arms folded neatly.

“Is he still alive?”

“Last I checked, he was. I’m surprised he didn’t leave as soon as he went in. I think he’s trying to out-man me and impress you,” he teased, making you laugh.

Out came Satoru right then, dusting his hands off, acting like he did anything more than recce. “Alright, I’ve got good news and bad news. Which d’ya want first?”

“Good news,” you requested apprehensively.

He clapped his palms together. “Good news, the interior condition isn’t as bad as it seems.”

Well, that was good news. But you were wary to celebrate. “And the bad news…?”

“There are, indeed, a shit ton of spiders.”

You squealed, racing to hide behind Suguru’s tall frame. The man himself chuckled at your reaction, his arms still crossed over his chest as he tilted his head back to peer at you from over his shoulder, way too relaxed for the situation. “Not a fan of spiders?”

“Fuck no!” You cried out, clutching the back of his shirt in tight fists as you buried your face against his spine. “Fuck that! Burn the damn thing down!”

Gojo grinned darkly, eyes lighting up with mischief. “All you had to say, princess.”

The noiret (the only reasonable one among you) sighed and shook his head. “No, we’re not burning her house down.”

“Boo,” Satoru whined. “You’re no fun.”

“You aren't afraid of spiders?” You peeked around Suguru's arm to leer up at him, still using him as your shield.

“Nope.”

“You monster,” you hissed.

His best friend snorted. “Look on the bright side. It means he can get rid of spiders for you.”

You paused to consider his words, squinting up at the poised man you hadn’t let go of.

“Okay, nevermind, I take it back,” you declared, doing a complete flip in behavior, “you're my god, now, Geto-san.”

He showed you that shut-eyes smile that had hummingbirds dancing the tango in your stomach. “Don’t worry, angel. I’ll protect you.”

Blush dusted your cheeks at his pledge and you averted your eyes. Having either of them in your field of view for too long was not good for your heart.

Satoru wouldn’t be Satoru if he didn’t go and embarrass you further. “Aww, she’s blushing!”

“I am not!” You barked back.

“I think it’s cute,” Geto’s cheek dimpled and you were flashbanged by the faces of not one, but two ethereal beings.

Mama, you thought, if you can hear me, send help. I don’t think I’m making it out of this one.

You gulped, the noise far too loud in your ears, and tried to subtly cover your face with your hand to retain some dignity while releasing Suguru’s shirt from your death grip. “A-Anyways, uh…should probably start calling people.”

“I’ll handle the calls,” Suguru announced, already pulling out his phone and dialing numbers. “I know these guys well. I’ll try to work something out with them.”

“Oh, you really don’t–” and there he went. You knew you asked for help, but you felt bad inconveniencing Suguru. Satoru, not so much.

“What’d I say about worrying?” Speak of the devil, the milk-haired boy bent down to your height and nudged his pointer finger between your brows. “Relaaaax, princess. It’ll work out.”

You worried your bottom lip as you watched the other man chatting some distance away. Detaching yourself from your perpetual anxiety was…difficult, to describe it in the least amount of words possible. Your guard was stuck to you, pinned, screwed, and soldered into place over time. Letting it go meant undoing years of work. 

It was there to shield you. You needed it to hold your untempered heart and keep it safe. If it got hurt, you weren’t sure you knew how to recover.

But you weren’t really letting them in by allowing them to help you, right?

Yet, as you sized up the small incline and the shack falling apart on top of it, you couldn’t shake the impression that the world was about to tilt on its axis. The tides were receding, tectonic pressure was increasing, the winds were stirring, and you were in the middle of it all. Mama, you reached out one last time. I think it’s too late.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

[nyxrev]

Tsukuyomi ツクヨミ

alt. 月読、月夜見: Japanese Moon God, implied to be male, not major deity but has some tales, notably when he killed a food goddess at a feast bc he was disgusted by how she created food from her body. His sister-wife Sun Goddess Amaterasu, horrified by his action, was so angry she exiled him from Heaven and refused to look at him again, thus is how day-night separated as Sun & Moon never meet.

With our snotty sleazy God on the Moon, I must wonder if Tsukuyomi, lit. The Moon God Org., is related, as they seem so eager to fetch Psykos, the “Third Eye” who can see the future, who we know from the swirly planetary mental imagery, has had prior contact with God.

Chapter I: Apollo

——*Welcome to Moon Craters Highway Radio for road rage therapy and drive escapades, what a lovely sunny noon out here! All's calm yet why do I smell the musty rot of evil afoot? Whatever could it be?

We hear your engines rumble with excitement, so take a seat on the passenger's side as we go full throttle on a wild ride through the hearth of our roads! —Only at the Hero Association HQ~*

Commentary brought to you by Apollo's poison pill (still stuck in his eye help me out)

Of course, damp stagnant underground spaces, with lack of ventilation n ever loom of darkness, are the perfect ground for unhygienic practices, such as the proliferation of (virulent) microbes…

Why is it always the smiley mask suit man

Rich. Mysterious. Creepy. What an atmosphere.

He comes to collect samples for experiment on behalf of his assoc., “for research purposes,” he says humbly, but not surprised to see him refer to live human like an object. Mad scientist? No, meticulously evil scientist.

God I can smell his perfume two lots away and it reeks of evil, ill omen.

Which brand d'you bet the Moon agents wear? I throw Hugo as an option. Strong and obnoxious

Notice how a mere agent exudes enough latent, passive psychic energy for Fubuki to sense it? And she seems to feel it quite strongly. I expect him to be decently troublesome.

Oops… it would be all for naught if the precious brain gets damaged, now, wouldn't it… because as the rumoured “Third Eye” we heard so much about, the secret to future vision also lies here…he says, as cradles her head gently, coldly, with -out an ounce of affection, only ambition for an excellent sample acquired for nefarious deeds.

“Would you like to torture her?” “No need,” he replies, brief but courteous enough.

Now I'm not sure what he did to Psykos there, it looks like a psychic gunshot or taser, but clearly all they care about's her brain and what it holds. They may not torture her (doubt they wouldn't), but they would only keep her sane/alive enough to extract momentous pieces for their research.

ラボで開頭して隅々まで調べます

隅々まで sumizumi made (reduplicative): lit. to the end of every corner, every nook and cranny, all the ins and outs

調べる: to investigate, examine, check, look into

“We'll perform a craniotomy back at the lab to explore every nook and cranny”

No need for torture, they'll do much worse.

His way of speech makes my skeleton want to crawl out of my flesh.

Absolutely Unhinged.

I can't tell what emotion he has capacity for, but mb he's so surprised his pupils went o_o; or mb even it's his spark of idea expression to bait and catch Fubuki too. He has no eyebrows, must've exchanged them for maximum zappy. N why he look like a Demon Slayer chara except deflated.

Notice how exec went “Oi guards, can't you see our generous Mr. Sponsor is…” at Fubuki group, straight from diplomatic, an almost obsequious customer service voice* to an imperative voice of displeased authority.

*eg. prior scene when exec welcomed him with: お待ち申し上げておりました｡どうぞこちらへ｡ “We've expected you. Please, this way.” It's hard to explain but they used respectful language for every part there. It's humble deferential speech, expected formality, but the fact they're polite to an outsider w data (next) yet irritated by Fubuki and only scared when Tatsumaki comes… they know their shady deals can't be exposed.

Now as Tatsumaki cracks down the door roof to your crimes, fearsome as a tornado can be, I fell for their act like a diet pill down a beauty's tea.

“Don't interfere, you outsider!!” And she makes modern art out of our Moon agent.

Fear not, he is sturdy. And smart enough to knock out unneeded eyes of execs and security.

Don't we all love an ambidextrous multitasker?

“How convenient. I'll make you sisters souvenir too.” An excellent addition, if only you could get your hands on them so easily as you wish.

She yeet him so hard he lost his coat, or he took it off bc he activated Serious Solar Storm. Well, the starry Cosmic Garou shirt looks dapper but better not just toss your coat on the ground at a rival's house if it has your valuables.

His tie has a U crescent idk the specific term for but if I search without scientific names is weird. Prefer scientific detail til I can sort out the lores. Apparently, the moon is related to clairvoyance. Believe what you will but I feel Moon Readers of Tsukuyomi seek out prophecy not to be sought.

Maybe moon phases on their ties correspond to rank and power.He's just a henchman after all. If agents have phases, mb the boss has full moon. Mb also means “power” is completed, but I feel it is dangerous to reach completed power.

When we saw God crawl out of his crusty moon den, the moon was lit on top ◠ an angle difficult & unnatural from earth. If ◡ crescent is humans, opposite you reach God, “ascended” as Fubuki said. Except it's NOT somewhere to ascend. We already saw why not to connect with God.

So break my tangent, let's get back on track.

As his aura crackles with flames, our agent pats off dust and engages Tatsumaki. Heh, not bad… She looks down at him, literally and figuratively, a little lab rat should be no big deal for her, but,

Fubuki comments, “He's strong.” Perhaps not unmanageable, but def stronger than expected.

Sure enough, he starts off strong.

Fubuki may not be the strongest esper by sheer power output-wise, but she is not imperceptive. Remember when Gearsper's energy output was so strong she almost mistook it for her sister? When she senses power, she really senses it. So I'd trust her judgement of its strength at least.

Oof—the gust, the gales, what sandy breeze on our sails. Guess he can hold his own, for now.

Let's take a moment to appreciate Murata's flex of artistic muscles before moon agent tires out.

“…I may be at a slight disadvantage…” Slight??Pathetic, Tatsumaki ridicules.

Your starry scars look about to burst, heed your limit, man. You'll get dust in your eyes- oh oops, I'll shut it, I'm an ill omen. Bite my tongue Bide my time Baby I'm not even here

“Poor Guinea Pig”

“Hmph, you needn't belittle me so, you know…” I do wonder if you can still keep on your air of condescension if you know what I'm about to do.

Did she really just call him a “Pitiful Marmot”?

モルモット: transliteration - marmot.

I thought it strange for marmot to mean guinea pig as an experiment animal like an equivalent of lab rat, so I dug round, turns out it's historical language confusion, not much we can do about it now. What's the unfortunate chosen animal of your language(s)?

Tbh, I'd add Pitiful Marmot to my vocabulary, for most affectionate purposes, of course.

It looks like she hit the nail on the head cuz her slight hurt the artificial esper's pride enough to set off the next step of Apollo's mission.

Now y'all done it. He broke the capsule! sleepy…

No! You Fool. Afoollo Why you gotta expose me like that. Why'd you out your strategy?! You had Data yet can't grasp her ability??! Thought you could outsmart and overpower her? Fool. You just jeopardized your precious junior's effort and lost your trump card. Well, I don't know how precious he is to you but you should prolly cherish him a little for he's considerate enough to bail you out of your stupid mistakes and drive you home with a bloody concussion.

“Natural Espers are a defective species. Perish.”

Brother your logic is defective. If natural espers didn't exist how can artificial ones like you ever exist hah? You even need existent natural ones alive to create your artificial comrades.

I must ask though, what did he mean with they “lack balance and harmony”? Did he mean they rely on psychic power so much they're physically weak??

His face just gets creepier. Then he pulls a stunt and I wonder if Tatsumaki rly had a hard time or just let him get the illusion of victory to locate the pill. —*More on Apollo's Mission next post.

Notes:

[sage-nebula]

I listen to The Office Ladies podcast, which is hosted by Jenna Fischer and Angela Kinsey and goes into a lot of behind-the-scenes stuff from The Office. To use their own tagline, “each week [they] break down an episode of The Office and give exclusive, behind-the-scenes stories that only two people, who were there, can tell you.” It’s a really fun and interesting podcast and I’ve learned so much about the show (and television production) from it.

But one thing about the podcast—and the main point of this post—is that they take questions from fan letters, and the most common letter they get (from my perspective as a listener) is, “this was my favorite scene, was it improvised?” At least three or four times per episode someone writes in asking if a witty moment was improvised, and I’m sure that’s not even half of the “was this improvised” questions they receive.

And I have to say, as a writer myself, I’ve become incredibly aggravated by this question.

Don’t get me wrong, some moments on the show were improvised. Some of the actors (such as Angela Kinsey herself) come from backgrounds of being improv actors, and sometimes they add extra little flourishes that make it in the final cut. The writers also had something called “candy bag alts” where they come with alternate lines that they have the actors try out on the day. (This was most common with talking heads.) Actors improvising lines isn’t new, it’s something that happens in so many productions. The Office is no different in that regard.

But the reason it has started to aggravate me is because the frequency with which it’s asked—and how often it’s paired with “this made me laugh so much / it was my favorite”—is because it almost feels like people assume that it’s so funny, it can’t have come from a writer. And with the attitudes I see going on right now about how writers are greedy and are asking too much in the current strikes, I feel this sentiment even more strongly.

Writers are underappreciated. Point blank. Whether it’s fanfiction, whether it’s published books, whether it’s television, writers are treated like what we do is easy and effortless and it’s taken for granted. I believe it was Stephen King who once talked about how people come up to him and say “I’ve been thinking of writing a book” when of course they’d never go to a doctor and say “I’ve been thinking of doing surgery” or a lawyer and say “I’ve been thinking of holding a deposition.” People treat writing as if it isn’t a legitimate career, but is instead a no-effort hobby. Don’t get me wrong, writing can be a hobby for many. It’s a hobby for me, mostly because I haven’t been afforded the opportunity to make it my career. But that doesn’t mean it takes no effort, no skill. It doesn’t mean that the writers sit there and twiddle their thumbs while the real brilliance comes from the cast.

It’s maddening. It’s infuriating. People respect writers so little. A writer’s entire job is to craft the narrative, the dialogue, the emotional beats. Why do you assume that every moment that makes you laugh came from the actor instead of the writers? Why do you assume that every moment that tugs on your heartstrings must have been made up on the spot by the actor? Why do you think the writers don’t deserve to be paid for the hours, and hours, and hours that they pour into a single script in initial writes, rewrites, and editing? Why do you care so little for those who put so much into the entertainment you enjoy?

I don’t understand. I will never understand why people value writers so little. I’ll never understand why people think writing is something just anyone can do. Yes, writing comes more naturally to some than others. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t work. It doesn’t mean that there isn’t stress and real effort put into the craft. It doesn’t mean that it isn’t a craft. Writers deserve to be paid and they deserve to have their work appreciated. Because while improvisation does happen sometimes, nine times out of ten Jenna and Angela confirm that the lines were read exactly as scripted, meaning that it was the writers that crafted the line that made you laugh, not the actors.

Show the writers some damn respect, and demand the industry pay them what they’re worth.

[turnthemasunder-if]

Luna Revamp Alt

So Luna got the bad ending and how about the good ending?

Also I decided to change her looks as well I hope you enjoyed the story as well as her transformation Readers :)

(Luna's POV)

Luna's heart pounded like a drum, the moon above casting its silvery glow on the palace garden, where she nervously waited for MC. The night was clear, yet her mind was fogged with fear and uncertainty. She knew she had made a promise not to let her heart dictate her actions, but when it came to MC, her emotions were a force she couldn't control.

Her hands clenched tightly and then released, betraying her anxiety. The stars above seemed to twinkle in mockery as if they knew the turmoil within her. Luna had called MC to meet her here, hoping to find the courage to ask if they felt the same way, seeking closure, whatever the answer might be.

As she stood there, the gentle rustling of leaves seemed to echo the restlessness in her heart. Every little sound made her jump, anticipating MC's arrival. "Why am I so terrified?" she wondered, trying to calm herself with the reminder that she was only going to ask a question. But deep down, she knew the answer to her inquiry could change everything.

Then, as if a phantom had emerged from the shadows, she heard MC's voice call her name from behind. Startled, Luna turned around, her wide eyes meeting the playful and carefree gaze of MC. "Ohhhhh! A romantic secret meeting, how come I don't know this secret side of yours, moonpie?" they teased.

The sound of her childhood nickname on MC's lips sent shivers down Luna's spine. Memories of her mother using the endearing term flooded her mind, adding to the surreal nature of the moment. It was a symbol of her past, her innocence, and the person she once was.

Swallowing her nervousness, Luna managed a smile, though her voice trembled slightly as she replied, "I… I just thought it'd be nice to spend some time together, that's all." The moonlight danced on the edge of her gaze, revealing a hint of vulnerability masked by determination.

You feel a surge of annoyance as you hear MC chuckle lightly at your words. They always have that carefree and playful attitude, even when you are trying to be serious. “Moonpie!” they say, using your nickname with fondness. You hate that nickname, but somehow it sounds sweet when they say it. “I know you for a very long time and for a fact I know that you don’t do and I quote!” They raise their fingers in air quotes. “Spend some time together!” they mimic your statement from earlier, emphasizing each word.

You stomp your foot on the grassy ground, feeling the soft blades bend under your shoe. “Do you?” you challenge them, your annoyance turning to anger by their assumption about you. “Do you really know me as you-” You stop yourself, realizing you are about to reveal too much. You quickly change the subject to the main topic.

MC walks closer to you, their steps light and graceful. You see them exhale some air, as if they are trying to calm themselves down. They must have noticed how their words have affected you. “I apologize, clearly there is something bothering you and here I am teasing you.” They lower their head in shame, their eyes hidden by their hair. "But! You should at least have told me that you were planning this for a long time and you should have included me, I know many great romantic love songs.” They slur the last part and wiggle their eyebrows, trying to make you laugh.

You don’t laugh. You don’t even smile. You just stare at them with a cold and hard expression, hoping they will get the message. You remember how MC has tried to flirt with you countless times and how many times you have shut them down. You remember how they always give you a rose when they meet you and how you just crush that rose under your heel, not caring about the thorns or the petals. But that doesn’t stop MC from pursuing you, from trying to win your heart with their charm and humor.

Until one day, something changes.

One day, like every day, they give you a rose. But this time, instead of crushing it, you take it in your hand and feel its softness and fragrance. This time, you feel something strange in your chest, something warm and tender. This time, you start to laugh at MC’s corny jokes, finding them funny and cute. This time, you enjoy their company and feel sad when they leave.

That day, everything changes.

MC: “Moonpie, are you alright?” They ask you with concern, breaking your silence. They tilt their head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of your eyes.

You snap out of your trance and brace yourself for what you are about to say. You need to know the truth, even if it hurts. You need to know if they really have feelings for you or if this is just a game to them.

Luna: “MC, I need to know if you truly have feelings for me or this is just a joke to you.” You ask them bluntly, cutting straight to the point. Deep down, your heart is rattling very loudly, like a caged bird that wants to fly away.

MC: “What? Moonpie, what are you talking about?” They look confused and surprised by your question. They take a step back, as if they are afraid of what might happen next.

Luna: “Don’t play dumb with me, MC. You know what I’m talking about. All those roses, all those jokes, all those compliments. What do they mean? What do I mean to you?” You press on, feeling a mix of emotions in your voice. Anger, fear, hope, love.

MC: “Moonpie…” They say softly, looking at you with a serious expression. They reach out their hand towards you, as if they want to touch your face or hold your hand. “You mean everything to me.”

You feel a jolt in your heart as you hear those words. Everything? Do they really mean it? Or is it just another lie? You look into their eyes, searching for the truth.

MC: “You are the sun that brightens my day.” They say with sincerity, moving their hand closer to yours. “You are the moon that guides my night.” They say with passion, closing the distance between you two. “You are the star that makes my dreams come true.” They say with love, leaning in for a hug.

The moon above seemed to glow brighter as MC drew nearer, their arms reaching out to embrace Luna. Her assassin instinct flared, warning her to step back, but this time, she resisted the urge to retreat. Love, after all, required faith and trust.

As MC's arms wrapped around her, Luna felt her body tense. Her hands hesitated, unsure whether to reciprocate the hug or maintain her usual guarded stance. Her mind battled with her emotions, torn between her training and the newfound vulnerability within her.

Taking a deep breath, Luna made a daring decision. She closed her eyes and allowed her heart to guide her actions. Slowly, she embraced MC back, her grip growing tighter as she surrendered to the moment. Fear gnawed at her, afraid that this tender embrace was merely an illusion, a fleeting dream that would vanish with the night.

The warmth of MC's body against hers enveloped her in bliss and joy, emotions she had long kept locked away. It was an unfamiliar sensation, and yet, she found solace in their arms. She realized that love was not a weakness, but a strength that could bind two souls together.

Her mind raced with thoughts, wondering if this was what it felt like to have someone love you with all their heart. The symbolism of their embrace was not lost on her—the moonlit garden bore witness to this intimate connection, as if the universe itself had conspired to bring them together.

Reluctantly, MC began to pull away, and Luna clung to the moment, not wanting it to end. As they spoke, their tone carried a mix of smugness and hurt, leaving Luna feeling a pang of guilt. "I hope this answers your question?" they said, attempting to sound cheerful but failing to conceal the hurt beneath.

"I haven't noticed!" Luna retorted cheekily, trying to lighten the mood with a playful joke.

MC replied with mock offense, "Moonpie, I know you can be cruel, but that's downright mean." The playful banter couldn't fully mask the hurt in their voice, and Luna realized that her rejection of their advances had affected them more deeply than she had thought.

In that moment, Luna's heart softened even further, and she gently touched MC's cheek, guiding their gaze to meet hers. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely, her voice laced with regret. "I've been so guarded, so afraid to let anyone in. But you've shown me that love is worth taking risks for."

You feel a surge of relief as you hear MC shake their head and grin. They don’t seem to be angry or hurt by your past actions, only amused and happy. “Well, you talking like that makes me forget everything, especially hearing you apologize for the first time!” They say with a playful tone.

You chuckle and look at them with sincerity. “I meant it, MC! Also, this is the first time I ever hear that someone loves me!” You say earnestly, feeling a warm glow in your chest.

“Really? The first time?” MC asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “How about the stuffed bear I gave to you and you sent it back to me in a box with the bear ripped to shreds and a death note accompanying!” They remind you of one of the many times they tried to convey their feelings to you and you shut them down in the most cruel and cold-hearted way.

“About that…” You begin to say, feeling a twinge of guilt. You remember how you hated that bear, how you thought it was a childish and stupid gift. You remember how you tore it apart with your knife and wrote a note saying “Leave me alone or you’ll end up like this”. You remember how you felt satisfied when you sent it back to MC, thinking they would get the message.

But they didn’t. They just laughed it off and tried again.

“Another incident is when I asked you to take a trust test and you agreed instantly and then you let me fall down to the ground and even laughed at me.” MC continues, recounting another episode of your rejection. You remember how they asked you to stand behind them and catch them when they fall back, saying it was a test of trust. You remember how you nodded and pretended to go along with it. You remember how you stepped aside at the last moment and watched them hit the floor with a thud. You remember how you laughed at their shocked and hurt expression.

You thought it was funny. You thought it was clever. You thought it would make them stop.

But it didn’t. They just got up and smiled at you, saying they still trusted you.

MC looks at you with a mock glare, but you can see the sparkle in their eyes. They are not bitter or resentful, they are just teasing you. They know that you have changed, that you have opened your heart to them. They know that you love them now.

You sigh and look at MC with regret. “I’m sorry for all that and a thousand times more, but you have to bear in mind that this is the first time for me as well to say that I love you!” You say heartfelt, hoping they will forgive you for your past mistakes.

MC smiles and leans close to kiss you on the lips. “You’re forgiven, Moonpie. And if you want, you can still continue to hurt me. I mean, I find it very humorous and also, I can use the endurance training that I can get from you.” MC dares you, knowing how much you enjoy a challenge.

“Very well!” You say, accompanied by your death glare. “Although you will be crawling on your knees and begging for my mercy to stop.” You warn them, not afraid to show your dominant side.

MC guffaws and wraps their arms around you. “Crawling to your lab and begging for you to massage my bruised and battered body!” MC replies, not intimidated by your threat. They turn your words into an innuendo and a romantic opportunity.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “You’re impossible, MC. You know that, right?” You say, but you can’t help but smile at their antics.

MC kisses your nose and looks at you with adoration. “You’re incredible, Luna. You know that, right?” They say, making your heart melt.

As MC pulled Luna closer, swaying to the gentle hum of a tune, she felt an overwhelming surge of love and happiness. In this moment, she knew that MC was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

"Dancing, how romantic of you!" Luna quipped, trying to maintain her snarky demeanor despite the affectionate moment.

MC chuckled softly, their eyes locked with hers. "Romantic, yes, but I'm more than that," they whispered, their warm breath caressing her lips. Their closeness sent shivers down Luna's spine, her heart quickening in response.

Luna could feel the anticipation building as MC leaned in, their lips so tantalizingly close to hers. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in this moment of intimacy.

However, before the kiss could materialize, MC playfully pulled back, denying Luna what she had yearned for. Luna couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of frustration and amusement bubbling within her.

"You will regret that!" Luna threatened, her voice laced with mock seriousness.

"Sure, I will!" MC replied with a mischievous grin, swatting away her playful threat like a fly.

Luna found herself feeling both frustrated and charmed by MC's coy behavior. But before she could delve further into their playful banter, MC offered a new proposition, one that piqued her interest.

"Although I think I can dissuade you from your plan," MC said persuasively.

"And that will be?" Luna goaded, curious to see what they had in mind.

"How about I show you instead?" MC says and pulling Luna to a deep passionate kiss and this time there's no holding back only desire and longing that continue to grow even more.

Well how that story end is up to you reader, but let’s just say hands started roaming around on cracks and crevices, not to mention under the night clothes started to fly in the sky ;)

[pullakori]

Febuwhump 2023

Day 13. Forced to hurt a loved one

alt 3. Soft words

TW: Mentions of dub-con and thretened non-con

Also, a/b/o

Sequel to day 11.

It felt like Charles' head was full of cotton and his limbs were too heavy to move. He had no idea where he was, other than somewhere soft and warm. His telepathy was as tired as his body was, he could barely feel any kind of presence from the minds nearby. He wanted to fall asleep again, but something at the back of his mind was telling him that he had to get up and get away. But what was it? Why did he need to run..?

And then the memories of Shaw and the forced heat hit him. Charles could feel aches in his body that wouldn't be there if he would have been successfull fighting him off again. He found enough energy to move his hand and feel around his neck, only to feel a fresh bite mark there. A broken sob escaped his mouth as panic started to settle in.

No. No, no nonono! This couldn't be happening!

There was a voice, speaking to him, but he didn't register it. Only when a hand touched his shoulder, did he even realize that someone else was there.

Charles recoiled from the touch, throwing himself back as far as his arms and legs could push him and the covers would let him. To his surprise, the hand didn't try to stop him and when he finally managed to open his eyes, he didn't see Shaw, like he had anticipated, but Erik. Erik, who was holding his hands up and speaking something, that Charles couldn't hear from the static in his ears.

"Erik?" His own voice sounded strange in his ears. Was he dreaming? How was Erik here?

"It's okay Charles, you're safe now. You're home." Erik spoke gently. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing a grey sweatshirt.

"Home?" Only then did Charles look around. He wasn't in the bedroom inside Shaw's submarine anymore. It took him few moments, but eventually, he recogniced the room as one of the manor's guest rooms. "What happened?" How did they end up in his childhood home?

"Shaw is dead. You helped me kill him." Erik told him, putting his hands down as Charles' panic subdued a little. "Do you remember that?" Charles closed his eyes, trying to remember. But every time he seemed to be close to recall something, it slipped away from him.

"It's all... Foggy, impossible to hold." Charles tried to explain and opened his eyes again. Erik's expression was strange, pained.

"He had dozed you with something that had forced your body into a heat." That Charles knew. He had fought the daze of heat the first time, but this second time... The omega touched the mating bite on his neck again and his body felt cold, despite the duvet and the pajamas some one had put on him. He hadn't been strong enough...

Shaw might be dead, but Charles would wear his mark forever. Despite his efforts, he wasn't able to keep his breathing steady.

"You were dying." Erik's voice was shaky as he kept speaking. "You would have died had I not-" Those cut off words made the omega look up with wide eyes. He managed to see how the alpha's eyes were filling with tears just before he hanged his head down. "I'm sorry Charles." He sounded like a man waiting for his judgement, but Charles could only stare at him as his earlier words sank in.

It had been Erik. Erik had bonded with him and bit him. Erik was his alpha.

"You..." Charles tried to speak, but his words were cut off by what was something between a sob and hysterical laugh. This also got Erik's attention, making him lift his head.

"Charles?" He asked, confused and slightly worried frown on his face as Charles tried to calm himself enough to explain.

"I thought that Shaw-" He couldn't finish the thought. It was too terrible to say, but Erik must have known what he meant, horror making his face pale.

"No!" He hurried to assure the omega. "He didn't touch you." He promised and Charles could hear a slight alpha growl under his voice.

A shiver ran through the telepath's body. He was still exhausted and the emotional turmoil that he had just went through made him even more so. But his body was aching for its alpha, demanding to be close to him after a bonding. But Erik was keeping his distance, clearly unsure weather he was wanted or not. Or maybe, and Charles' stomach sank from the idea, he didn't want to be close to the omega. He had been forced to bond with Charles to save him, no matter what he wanted.

The telepath owed his life to Erik, the least he should give him was some space. But the ache was becoming painflull and after spending weeks chained on Shaw's bed and surrounded by his stench, he was desperate for any kind of comfort. So he pushed himself up enough to slump closer to the alpha, who let out a startled noise and backed away slightly, before Charles moved his hand closer to him and looking at him witj pleading eyes. Erik looked at his hand and then in his eyes. Charles wondered if he felt similiar ache too, or at least something, from their bond.

Erik swallowed and slowly moved to first take Charles' hand and then moving to lie on his side close to the omega, but leaving some space between. Charles knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't help himself. He pushed himself closer again, but he didn't make it far by himself before Erik moved closer instead and wrapped his arms around Charles.

The ache in the omega's heart was instantly soothed as he was embraced by his alpha and he could breathe in his scent. He moved his own arm around the metalbender's waist and his other hand to hold his shirt.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, but Charles could feel how tense Erik was and the guilt about the whole situation became too much.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, keeping his eyes glued on Erik's chest, unable to look up and see what would most likely be resentment in his eyes. But what little he got through his telepathy, Erik only felt surprised and remorseful.

"No, Charles. None of this is your fault." He assured Charles, stroking the smaller man's hair and back. "And I'm the one who should apologise, even though its nowhere close enough to make this right." Charles drew back, just enough to look Erik in the eyes.

"You saved me." He argued, but Erik shook his head.

"By forcing you to bond with me." The alpha's voice was almost desperate and Charles moved his hand that had been clutching his shirt to gently touch Erik's cheek. The simple touch seemed to be close to shattering his whole world.

"But also by forcing yourself to bond with me." Charles responded.

And that was true, they had both been forced into this situation without their premission or input. And here they were laying face to face, their hearts completely open. Maybe it was their bond settling or Charles' telepathy recovering, but he could feel small snippets of Erik's thoughts. Too forgiving. He deserves so much better. Wanted to court him. To take things slow. To do this on our own terms. Charles felt tears gathering in his eyes as he smiled at his alpha.

"I would have liked that too." He whispered and Erik took a hold of his wrist and kissed his palm.

They kept holding hands and Erik stroked Charles' wrist with his thumb, bedore he looked down at it and frowned slightly. Lost weight...

"You need something to eat." He decided and moved to stand up. He bearly made it out of bed though, when Charles let out a distressed whine without meaning to. The omega's cheeks flamed as Erik immidiately sat back down and took his hand again, but the mere idea of being alone right now made Charles sick.

"Please don't go..." He pleaded and saw Erik's eyes soften before the alpha laid back down, under the covers this time.

"Okay. I'll stay." He promised Charles as he gathered him close once again.

The exhaustion was starting to get the better of the omega, but he still hugged Erik back as tightly as he could. "Shhhh. It's okay, you're safe." Erik murmured to his ear as he began to troke his back and hair again. The warmth of the alpha's body and mind lulled Charles closer and closer to sleep. Erik kept speaking softly, until the telepath fell asleep again. "Everything is going to be alright."

[fractallogic]

Today I got very very sad and also have a migraine again AND I don’t think I drank enough today either, so this whole physical improvement over yesterday intention did not happen

I was late to my Adobe meeting because I was in bed crying too much because I was beat out from the job in Denver by yet afuckingnother white guy until 10:38 (and the meeting was at 11 on my office computer), so I called the guy and was like “I’ll be 15 min late” and I got in at 11:07 and was at my computer by 11:12 … and then waited 25 minutes on the teams call before I called them and went “???” and they went oh oops sorry

The fix was to log out and then back in and select the corporate/university account option. Jesus.

Then the fix for my experiment to run, which I figured out after maybe 20 min, was to make psychopy use the right drivers by just. putting their names in the text boxes in the preferences pane.

Then it was lab meeting, fine, blah blah, made me sad about the academic exit and incredibly bitter about whoever that fucking guy was

Then I got some lunch from a new burger place in the student union and it was a TINY burger (like slightly larger than slider size) and a GIANT fry (yom, truffle fries)

I spent SO much time putting my experiment on EVERY lab computer and changing the settings on every computer so that my undergrads and I can run 30 participants on this two-day experiment over the next 7 weeks (agh)

I also confirmed that yes, you could ASK the dept head to hire you, but a tenure line was laughable and even an NTT hire would be tough and as we all know pro tem contracts are laughable garbage, so yeah, Other Postdoc was wrong and naive as usual

Then I got home and made the mistake of texting dad that I didn’t get the denver job and that okay I was up for a call (but only after we started talking did I realize it was a call because he wanted to comfort me and give advice and I’m like no dad I’m fucking pissed I don’t WANT to talk about your clueless idea of how to get a job when you don’t even fucking know what any of the words mean for my alt-ac job positions I’m looking for, YOU CANT HELP UNLESS YOU LITERALLY MAKE A JOB MATERIALIZE)

So anyway I feel like shit and I have a migraine and heartburn and painful hiccups and a cat who’s offended by me, her bed, being all fidgety, and I have to take a shower and don’t really want to (but if I don’t wash my hair it’ll give me more motivation to clean the turtle tank tomorrow, which is a must if it’s not raining, soooooo…) and all of my joints hurt and I’ve had a horrible crick in my neck all week and I just FEEL FUCKING BAD and may have been kind of dangerously “what’s the point” discouraged this morning and had to remind myself that I have to take care of the animals and scone is depending on me to immigrate here (and loves me and whatever, but that wasn’t occurring to me this morning) and I have to go to MCV’s wedding and I have to see who wins the playoffs and I have to be there for my brother because who knows when my stepdad, his dad, is going to die too, and I can’t die BEFORE my stepdad SO I GUESS I FUCKING HAVE TO GET OUT OF BED AND WASH MY FACE AND WHATEVER GOD

It was a dark-emotioned morning. It’s been a dark-emotioned week and month and year so far.

[phantalgia]

An Angel On a Cloud

The title of this is intentional, it has nothing to do with death though. It's an ode to someone I miss a lot. Someone I know is still out there and hope is doing well. There are other people I miss a lot too. And I want to talk about them as well at some point.

Cloud was my first gay crush. But at the time and even now I still deal with a lot of internalized homophobia so I did a lot to repress those emotions. He was still a great friend nonetheless. I met him on VRChat if I remember correctly, and it was also with another person and it was one of my early friend groups with other people.

I split off with that friend group due to personal reasons and it was just the three of us. We had a minecraft world at the time and spent a lot of time there and just sharing feelings and thoughts and jokes.

Outside of the three of us. Me and Cloud would just do one on one calls with each other. Each time after work, he'd call me on his way home. He cared a lot about me, he wanted to be around me a lot. I....really took him for granted.

He was proud of me for pursuing art and encouraged me a lot and always asked me how I was doing with it (I quit because of an event, save for another time). He was really involved with my life. We called pretty much every day and things would get borderline romantic.

Because of internalized homophobia, a lot of feelings were repressed and I was disgusted sometimes. Because of that things never went anywhere. And dealing with a lot of self hate, I self sabatoged the friendship twice by ghosting. For the first time a new phenomenon had occured to me that I never thought would be possible. Something I still struggle to understand or believe today even: It's possible for myself to mean so much to someone's life that my absense causes them great pain and discomfort, heartache...heartbreak.

Again, I still to this day struggle with understanding it, I have had more of those events happen with other people as well. But I’m learning to accept that people want to be around me slowly.

Cloud himself was such a sweetheart. I still remember how cute he looked, but the picture of him is getting blurrier and blurrier unfortunately. He was a very sensitive person. He was just angelic, innocent, and had a very cute and soothing voice. He was into a lot of cute stuff, so he wasn't a big strong and tough stoic or anything like that. Not to say he didn't have any strength, what I mean is that he wasn't a stereotypical masculine person. I think he liked the Sims, so that should tell you a little bit of what I mean XD.

He was a breathe of fresh air, but I wouldn't know that until years later when I would never see him again. I was still in my edgelord phase, must have been 19-20 at the time. So a lot of those calls with that other person I mentioned would just be liberal usage of "nasty language". Which then gets into the type of person Cloud was. We tried to get him to say a slur, but he stayed stern with his values and wasn't pressed. So he did have strength, he wouldn't break even under peer pressure. And he had values. Which just made him more attractive in retrospect.

I could make a whole topic about the things I've learned about how "edgy" and "dark" humor is a tool to encourage far-right violence. But that's going into another blog I’m working on. You can watch NonCompete's: The Pewdiepipeline on youtube. It's a good one. There's plenty of videos on the topic of the alt-right pipeline. Which is the blog I’m working on with my story while giving it a more societal context rather than just purely personal.

Cloud cared a lot about me and I’m not sure why. What did he see in me? Faith? Hope? I was a toxic loser. Perhaps in my moments of vulnerability, my silliness, my pursuit of art, and just how I looked attracted him which gave him faith in me. I can't remember if I have ever been vulnerable with him many times, we just existed with each other and got distracted with whatever it was we were doing.

There came a point where I would discover that Cloud was also very very damaged.

The Rain Cloud

It was one late night and we were both in Minecraft...it was just your usual Minecraft session. I don’t really know what sparked the conversation...I don’t know what we talked about that caused it. But Cloud just told me his experience with being gay in school.

He told me that he was bullied a lot for it. And that even one time he was trampled on by an entire class. And nobody cared. He cried to me. I don’t remember what I said. All I remember is what he said and his crying branded into my fucking head. Perhaps I said that "I was there for him" or something along those lines. I don’t know. But then that was the first time he sounded a kiss for me, thanking me for being there for him. It was late that night and we both called it a night.

I don’t remember when that was. But I won't forget it. And I won't forget the hurt I caused by leaving him, twice. He really was almost unforgiving. The second time, he understandably had some animosity towards me. I just moved on at that point. We just disappeared into different directions in the world.

But im getting ahead of myself, I remember one of those times when I came back to see Cloud again, he seemed different.

A Cloudless Night Sky

His voice changed after I stopped ghosting and came back. He sounded less exaggerated. And I asked him about it because it was so noticable. And he told me that he forced the higher pitched voice when he spoke to me to try and get me to like him. It felt strange, like something was off.

The last time I can think of speaking with him was when I had a very traumatic night in my old neighborhood. I won’t say what but it was something I never experienced before. I told him about it, and he just kind of didn't seem to care all that much about what happened to me. Or understood the trauma of it.

I think this change in his behavior was my fault. He really seemed like he wanted to care but he didnt want to be hurt again. And I cant blame him. He put up with me long enough and he didn't need any more of it.

I haven't talked to Cloud in years and have no way of getting into contact with him. The only other way is to hope that he gets curious and tries to find me. But it's been years and I imagine he has moved on, hopefully for the better.

Cloud Is One of Many Ghosts That Haunt Me

Today, I’m still looking for Cloud, and other people too that I want to make seperate posts about. Not necessarily literally looking for him. But metaphorically. I’m trying to find someone like him out there, if I cant see Cloud again. But...they have yet to appear. There isnt anyone like him. The impact, the vulnerability, the sweetness, the cuteness, the sensitivity. I have yet to find "him" or her or whoever. I have yet to find someone so invested in my life they want to keep up with me, call me every day, cry to me, be that cute, sweet, innocent, and "my type".

To Cloud, Who Will Never Read This...

Cloud, I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I loved you and I still do. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry for hurting you so many times. I’m sorry for trying to make you say things you didn't want to say. You were much more further along than me and deserved so much better. I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for not being honest about my own struggles.

But Cloud, you've done so much for me. Without you, the seeds you planted in my head that just needed time to grow. I wouldn't have realized the things I have realized today. You have had such a huge impact on my life and I can't thank you enough. You are just the sweetest angel I ever knew. You helped me in accepting myself years later. The longer I’m away from you the more I realized how much I took you for granted.

I hope you’re safe out there Cloud. Safe and content. I hope you found or find a lovely man who is looking out for you the same way you looked out for me. I just can't thank you enough. And I’m glad I can finally say: Cloud, I love you, without being disgusted with myself. I love you Cloud, I won’t forget you. Take care...

[onestowatch]

19 LGBTQIA+ Artists You Need to Listen to This PRIDE

PRIDE is all about self-empowerment and self-determination. It’s about not just being comfortable with who you are but showing the world that there is pride to be found in being unapologetically you. And that’s why, this PRIDE, we wanted to shine a light on a small handful of our favorite LGBTQIA+ artists. Ranging from rapturous hyperpop, revelatory bossa nova meditations, romantic rave music, and everywhere in between, these are 19 LGBTQIA+ artists who deserve a spot on your PRIDE playlist and every playlist for that matter. 

girl in red

In her debut single, “i wanna be your girlfriend,” a teenage girl in red unapologetically sings of young queer love over a mesh of lofi production and jangly instrumentation that would come to define much of the bedroom pop genre. It is a standout moment of unrelenting honesty, and a serenely simple three-minute confession that would go on to strike a chord with millions who were afraid of what it meant to be something more than friends. Now, a few years later and following the release of her critically-acclaimed debut album, if i could make it go quiet, Ulven still writes with that same emotional honesty, putting forth every ounce of herself for the world to see. 

Meet Me @ The Altar

“the little lonely black alt girl i was in the 00s is living rn, she never even dared to hope she might see this 💖💖,” reads the top comment on Meet Me @ The Altar’s music video for their single “Garden.” It is a sentiment shared by much of the rising band’s fanbase, who are used to the mainstream alternative scene championing cis white males. Existing in the space between pop-punk and hardcore, Meet Me @ The Altar exists to challenge the notion that queer women of color don’t have a place in punk. And after penning a record deal with Fueled By Ramen, home to the likes of Paramore, Panic! at the Disco, and nearly every pop-punk band that made up your middle school playlist, chances are this is just the beginning for our new favorite punks.

THE BLOSSOM

For Lily Lizotte, better known as THE BLOSSOM, music exists as the synthesis and subsequent recontextualization of a host of past experiences. From the sound of their dad belting away in his home studio to stumbling upon niche Internet subgenres, THE BLOSSOM transforms all this and more into a sound that is instantly recognizable but impossible to perfectly place. The culmination of this host of influences takes sweeping sonic form on their debut EP, ‘97 BLOSSOM, a perfectly imperfect introduction to one of the most fascinating rising artists of recent memory.

BIMINI

You may recognize BIMINI as Bimini Bon-Boulash, the runner-up on the second season of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK. And now you should familiarize yourself with Bimini, brit-pop extraordinaire. Releasing their debut single “God Save This Queen” earlier this June, Bimini deftly channels late ‘90s brit-pop and punk to deliver a single that has us absolutely living for the ensuing chaos. Serving up multiple looks throughout its eye-catching music video, “God Save This Queen” is not just a non-binary anthem but a veritable 2021 lookbook.

Hope Tala

With a sound that falls somewhere between turn-of-the-century R&B and bossa nova, Hope Tala’s music is expectedly a dream given sonic form. Perhaps that’s why much of the UK singer, songwriter, and multi-instrumentalist’s music is able to so deftly weave imagery of love, heartache, and teenage fistfights into tightknit tracks that feel simultaneously transcendental and deeply personal. And with the release of her 2020 EP, Girl Eats the Sun, Hope Tala poses one all-important question, “Why have a life if you’re not going to do something crazy and make a difference in the world?” 

chloe moriondo

For much of chloe moriondo’s avid fanbase, watching her transform from budding ukulele sensation to pop-punk phenom very much meant watching her grow up. Getting her start on YouTube, moriondo's fanbase witnessed her evolve as both an artist and person. Coming out in the aptly titled “a ramble about self identity, growth, and being a lesbian,” to be a fan of the artist often feels like trading secrets with a close personal friend. It is a sentiment that rings all the more true upon delving into her debut album, Blood Bunny. Grappling with coming-of-age at the axis of empathic pop and euphoric pop-punk, Blood Bunny sees moriondo taking yet another impressive step forward.

Godford

Little is known about Godford beyond what can be garnered from a handful of interviews online and his succinct Spotify bio, and chances are he’s happier that way. The anonymous DJ and producer aims to make non-binary music that exists outside of the confines of genres, overly-simplified classifications, and even himself. What is important are the emotions his music hold and what his listeners take away. Fusing romanticism and rave in his debut album, Godford: Non Binary Place, the anonymous artist does just that. He provides a space that exists simultaneously everywhere and nowhere, like an ephemeral night spent out on the dancefloor with a stranger or close friend.

Joy Oladokun

Joy Oladokun is at the core of her music. It may at first glance appear to be a painfully obvious statement, but as her sincere songwriting seeps into every corner of your soul, it is a notion that becomes undeniable. In her major label debut, in defense of my own happiness, Oladokun writes with an unabashed authenticity, never turning a blind eye to the world around her. These shared reflections and recollections of life are often heartbreaking and uplifting in the same breath, but in their candidness, we can begin to piece together what it means to be human, imperfections and all.  

Allison Ponthier

Allison Ponthier may only have a handful of singles to her name, but her unmatched potential is clear as day. Raised in the outskirts of Dallas, Texas, Ponthier’s moving songwriting and emphatic vocal prowess speak to her country roots. Pair that country sensibility with some of the most pristine pop songwriting we have heard in quite some time, and you begin to understand just how exciting Ponthier is as a rising artist. With only two singles to date, there’s not much else we can say beyond do yourself a favor and play “Cowboy” on repeat.

Rina Sawayama

It feels like no hyperbole to call Rina Sawayama an inevitable pop icon. First garnering critical acclaim with singles like “Cherry” and her 2017 debut EP RINA, the Japanese-British singer-songwriter staked her name on her immaculate ability to capture all the glamour and larger-than-life appeal of early ‘00s pop. Building on what was a nostalgic yet forward-thinking vision, Sawayama returned with her 2020 eponymous full-length debut. From nu-metal, club beats, to veritable pop anthems, SAWAYAMA emerged as a genre-defying showcase of an avant-garde pop star.

Arlo Parks

Listening to Arlo Parks’ music is akin to sipping on a hot cup of chamomile tea as you watch the world slowly pass by your living room window. It is a testament to the British poet and singer-songwriter’s subtle yet beautiful way with words, the way in which each lyric serves as a glance into a tightly-held memory or passing observation. These poetic musings come to life in her debut album, Collapsed In Sunbeams, which layers lyrical revelations over some of the most tender R&B of recent memory. Parks’ is more than a must-listen; she feels like the birth of a new wave.

Claud

Claud has spent the past few years making a name for themselves in the indie pop world, and the culmination of it all arrives in their debut album, Super Monster. The acclaimed album sees Claud reckoning with coming-of-age and love with an irresistible charm. Pair that with a penchant for grounded, affective songwriting and infectious, dreamlike melodies and you have one of the best debuts of recent memory. In case you somehow need any further convincing that Claud is one to watch, Super Monster marks the debut release from Phoebe Bridgers’ Saddest Factory Records.

UMI

Equally as inspired by R&B and neo-soul as she is by her generation’s penchant for blurring genre lines, UMI and her music exist as a form of spiritual healing. Half-Black and half-Japanese, her work explores everything from identity to self-introspection, such as on the aptly-titled Introspection. It is a fondness for self-exploration that UMI delves headfirst into on her 2019 EP Love Language, a sublime blend of identity struggles, love, and anime that tackles the issue of always feeling like an other, never Black or Japanese enough.

Joesef

Sad boy summer. It’s the simplest way to being explaining Joesef’s serene albeit somber sound. Emerging out of Glasgow, the quickly rising star often wears his still bleeding heart on his sleeve, even when the underlying sonics seem to be moving onto greener pastures. It is an exquisite balancing act that comes to life on his 2020 EP, Does It Make You Feel Good?. Blending elements of soft-spoken R&B, jazz, and ethereal pop, Joesef sets himself apart as an artist whose influences and appeal know no bounds.

Serena Isioma

At the top of the year, we named Serena Isioma one of our top artists to watch in the year to come, and for good reason. The self-proclaimed “nonbinary rock star” experienced a breakout moment with “Sensitive,” a track that is difficult to perfectly encapsulate but think along the lines of fusing modern-day R&B and woozy indie-pop with reckless abandon, and you’ll be about halfway there. It was an impressive standout track that was only buoyed by a pair of EPs, Sensitive and The Leo Sun Sets, in 2020, officially cementing Isioma as an artist like no other.

Khai Dreams

Khai Dreams’ music is effortlessly easygoing. With its straightforward guitar lines and understated production, every track from the Pacific Northwest singer-songwriter flows out as naturally as breathing. Maybe it’s that laid-back approach that begins to explains Khai Dreams’ universal appeal and millions of monthly listeners, despite releasing most of his music independently. A hallmark of the DIY generation and its massive homebrewed potential, it would be a crying shame if you didn’t let Khai Dream’s serene meditations transport you somewhere far from here.

Frances Forever

Like much of their Gen Z cohorts, Frances Forever’s exponential rise was not the result of a well-executed marketing plan but by the pure chance of a single song finding a home online. The song in question, “Space Girl,” was originally part of NPR’s Tiny Desk Content before soon blowing up on TikTok, and it’s not hard to see why. Short, sweet, and to the point, “Space Girl” is a saccharine love letter to that bubbly feeling of floating on cloud nine. Now signed to Mom+Pop and with their debut EP, Paranoia Party, due out later this year, this is the perfect time to get familiar with Frances Forever.

Dorian Electra

Unapologetically playing with gender norms and stereotypes while seeing just how far they can push the limits of pop, Dorian Electra has long maintained a cult following in the world of experimental, highly addictive hyperpop. And it’s not hard to see why. Having collaborated with the likes of Charli XCX, 100 gecs, Village People, Pussy Riot, Rebecca Black, and more, Electra’s music ranges from off-the-rails hyperpop to introspective pop slow burns. All of this and more reaches a fever pitch in their 2020 album My Agenda, a devious showcasing of one of pop’s most explosive figures.

MAY-A

Maya Cumming, professionally known as MAY-A, is no stranger to the hustle it takes to make it in the music industry. The Australian artist got her start entering numerous singing competitions in her hometown of Byron Bay and started busking on the streets at the tender age of 11. Now, she has a breakout single under her belt in the form of “Apricots,” an anthemic indie-pop ode to queer love. And since that breakout moment, MAY-A has continued to release impressive single after single—the latest being the collaborative “American Dream.”

[hqamore]

boreal star ✵ chapter seven

with alina in the wind, general kirigan now has scramble to find her. the only person he has to get through is you.

series genre: romance & angst

series pairing: [past?] aleksander morozova (general kirigan) x reader

word count: 1.5k

warning(s): suggestive?

here’s the masterlist

when you regained consciousness, you attempted to open your eyes, quickly shutting them after being met with blinding lights. you felt aches all over your body. cold intrusions weighted your wrists as you shifted them, accompanied by the clanking of chains. you could hear the bustling crowds outside, conversations about the famed general kirigan being in kribirsk. the wind kissed your cheeks red when several masses moved into wherever you were being held (you presumed a tent).

“get up.”

not carrying for the tone, you pretended to sleep. after several moments passed, your chains were yanked. you fell onto the floor, your muscles pulsating in pain.

“what a lovely wake-up call.” you wrestled against the hands grabbing at you and, when you lost, were forced to sit up. “you know, i usually get to know someone before getting rough. we all have our kinks i suppose.”

a high-pitched giggle rang before it was muffled (not very well though). with a cleared throat, it ceased completely. you slowly opened your eyes to observe the room. a total of five bodies: zoya, ivan, a palace guard, a durast, and aleksander. you’ve gotten out with higher odds stacked against you.

“tell me where they went.”

you rolled your eyes and smirked. “unfortunately for you, my dear general, i’ve only sent them off. just told them to run far from ravka.”

your former lover glanced at ivan who shrugged. he breathed in deeply, clenching his fists. he squatted in front of you and called out to his subordinates. “leave us.”

one by one, they left the tent, zoya hovering by the opening with a nasty look on her face. you looked at her and winked. her lips curled into a sneer before she huffed away.

you returned your attention to aleksander who took the opportunity to come closer to you. you leaned back but failed, closed in by a bench. you watched as his hands rested on your knees. you tried to shake them off only for him to grip tighter as they climbed your legs. you met his half-lidded eyes, thrown off by the (scandalously) familiar gaze.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you said, your eyes darting from his eyes to his lips.

a lazy smile took residence on his face, his tongue flitting across his bottom lip. “did you not miss it?”

feeling very confused and slightly mortified, you tilted your head away from him. “miss what?” you asked.

“our rendezvouses. how you could have me groveling at your feet with a simple touch. how i begged to use my mouth to please you,” he whispered. he rested his hands, kneading your inner thighs.

you scoffed. “did alina rejecting your advances give you brain damage? you really thought i would—”

your words were swallowed when his lips meshed with yours. you would be lying if it didn’t make you have butterflies. after being apart for years, you couldn’t tell if it felt right or nostalgic. stopping yourself from getting lost in the feeling, you shoved him away with your bounded wrists and bolted up. aleksander stumbled back, looking bewildered and distant.

“how dare you?” you spat. “trying to seduce me again for your stupid ambitions? let me be very clear, aleksander. you may have fooled me once, but there will not be a second time.”

you snorted and shook your head, a flurry of emotions rising in you.

“for thirty years, i wondered why i wasn’t enough for you? for fate? did i not follow you faithfully? did i not hang off your every word? did i not love you more than my own life?!”

furious tears welled as you heaved heavily. aleksander was still, his mouth parted, looking as if he wanted to say something. you couldn’t afford to give him the chance anymore. the stitches in your heart were breaking at the seams.

“i hated the world for so long for not giving me the powers you desired. i hated myself over things i couldn’t control. i knew for months that i was not your fated, your wistful destiny, but i stayed. i hoped that your words were empty and you said those things in a drunken stupor, but they say drunken words are sober thoughts. i was a fool to wish otherwise.

“the day i left was the day i stopped allowing myself to mourn over the fact that you were no longer mine. i finally saw my worth and decided that i would love someone else who would too.” you wiped away the tears that fell, then closed your eyes to prevent more from falling.

“did you?”

“what?” you whispered tiredly.

you heard him shuffle to stand, his shoes dragging against the carpet. “did you find someone else to love?” he weakly asked.

you made the mistake of opening your eyes. you took in his appearance—his red, glossy eyes that bore into you and the subtle way his frame wilted. you couldn’t decide whether to scoff at the audacity of him, acting as if he was the victim, or cry at the sight of his regretful posture. even through everything, a small part of you desperately wanted to believe him and embrace him, but you knew you couldn’t—that you shouldn’t.

“i did,” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“oh,” he breathed. “are you still...”

“we parted ways prior to my being here.”

he hummed softly and looked to the sky—like he was praying to the saints. “what if... i was being sincere? would you give me a chance to prove it?”

a scoff left you in disbelief, bitterness coating your voice. “you continuing to pursue your delusions is proof enough for me.”

with longing eyes, he stepped closer to you and captured your hands in his. he bent his neck to level with you. “what i’m doing… what i have been doing for the past five-hundred years… it’s all been to make ravka safer, to make grisha safer, to make you safer.”

you turned away, your will to not fall fading, only for him to tilt your chin towards him. he cradled your face in his palm, brushing away stray tears. “please, [y/n]. i admit, i made one of the biggest mistakes in my life not searching for you. i believed that you were a placeholder, someone to keep me satisfied until the sun summoner came. when you left, i realized how wrong i was.

“every single day, for 30 years, you were my first and last thought. how are they? are they safe? i hope no harm has come to them. [y/n], when you appeared before the king, you don’t understand how relieved i was to see you. at first, i was angry and spiteful at you for leaving me alone, but, as time passed and we fell into routine, my love resurfaced and won.”

you chuckled. “and what would you have me believe alina was? i saw it in your eyes at the winter fete. the same affection i once thought you held for me.”

“the winter fate?” he paused before smiling. “[y/n], you must’ve caught me thinking of you wearing that kefta.”

you grabbed his wrist and pulled it away from your face, the heavy chains grounding you. “you must think me stupid to believe that.”

then, aleksander looked grief-stricken. he fell onto his knees, his lips ghosting over your hands. “what do i have to do to make you believe me, [y/n]?”

you offered a sad smile. “destroy the fold… then, and only then, will i believe that your words aren’t pretty lies to trick me into complying.”

you turned as much as the chains could afford you. “please leave me be,” you whispered.

it felt like eons before you heard him move away. “there will be an expedition through the fold tomorrow. we are to escort foreign diplomats. so, rest up.”

wind rushed back into the tent as he left. once the tent flapped shut, you sank into the ground. tears streamed down your face as you pounded your chest, trying to relieve some of the sorrow. you hated yourself for even hoping that some of what aleksander said was true. you hated that, unlike what you wished to be, you were still easily manipulated by his charms.

i hate that i can’t hate you.

—

unbeknownst to you, aleksander’s heart was rabid and his duplicity dissolved, almost like the kiss was a rush of cold water. he couldn’t find it in himself to deceive you—or himself—anymore.

at first, he was attempting to seduce you. but, when he had kissed you… it was like all those years without you were unreal. it was like he hadn’t lived in the moments where you weren’t there by his side. it was like he could finally let go of the breath he never knew he was holding.

he was a blind man who was given the gift of sight, a deaf man given the wonders of hearing.

he had never felt more stupid in his life. he already had his equal. [y/n] was there, presiding over his heart, and he was an idiot to believe what he felt for them was something akin to complacency.

“general kirigan!”

blinking, he looked up to see ivan running towards him. he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

the heartrender stopped by his side, leaning closer. “we found the sun summoner and the stag. should we bring them in?”

aleksander glanced back at your tent, then turned away ashamed. “bring them unharmed. bring the tracker too.”

taglist (could tag the bolded ones): @kykymyeon @shelivesindaydreamswme @blackbirddaredevil23 @amortentiaaaa @safetyhtom @savannah-elliott @deceivedeer @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @sarcastic-and-cool @supersouthy @let-love-bleeds-red @andwhatofthelight @all-art-is-quite-useless​ @mixed-imagination​ @ashdab2611​ @aria-grace-scott​ @multifandom-addict​ @aleksanderwh0r3​ @p3nny4urth0ught5​ @kirigansgf​ @evyiione​ @theoutsidelandhere​ @wizardwheezes​ @partiesandblurrypolaroids​ @pansysgirlfriend​ @takethee​ @its-carlerrr​ @kaqua​ @rachellovesharry @imrann123456

author’s babble: now, there’s a dilemma for me. i think i see two ways this can go. crack!fic-ish or no crack!fic-ish. i will keep the crack!fic-ish portion separate. if you’d like to read the alt route, you can start with this! it’s the alt route ending of chapter seven *:ﾟ*｡⋆ฺ(*´◡`)

[frostedfaves]

Repercussions (15 - Alt Ending)

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!Natasha Romanoff x dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha and Wanda refuse to leave without you.

Warnings: dark themes, gun mentions, threatened suicide, manipulation

A/N: never expected to write this despite it being highly requested, but with me being stuck with Particular Taste and in the mood to write some angst, I ended up doing it. I’m still down to write angst, so I may do another Sad Song Sunday, but I’ll let you know.

Original part 15

-

“You worried us, printsessa, disappearing like that,” Natasha addresses you in a chilling tone as the two of them stop a few feet away from you. “And we’ll deal with that later, after you tell Wesley to come out so we can punish him first.”

“He’s not here,” you tell her calmly. “His only job was to bring me here--”

“And take the tracker out of your leg, which we will be putting back,” Wanda interjects with a stern expression. “Now you can either come with us to the car willingly or we’ll drag you.”

“I won’t be doing either of those things.” You stand slowly, lifting the gun to your temple as you go. “Your only choices are to leave me here and go back to the way your lives were before I came in, or you can let me die. If you take me again, I’ll just fight you every day until you wish you’d killed me yourself. No matter how you manipulate my mind, my true self will never love someone who wants to control me. I’ll tell you how much I hate you for ruining my life every second I’m able, and I’ll kill myself the moment I get the chance to do so.”

You notice the glassy look in their eyes as they face each other, and you knew they were having a silent conversation in their minds. Seconds feel like minutes as they seem to discuss their options, eventually turning back to face you. Wanda is fully crying now, and Natasha seems to be physically holding back her own emotional break.

“Please don’t do this, printsessa,” Wanda chokes out with a cautious step forward. “We just want you to come home.”

“What’s home to you is a prison to me.”

“But it didn’t always feel like prison, right? Remember those days we’d bake together, and watch your favorite movies all day?”

“Or that time we took you to Coney Island for a week straight because you couldn’t get enough of it?” Natasha added and you sighed.

“You don’t get it, do you? I was obsessed with those Coney Island trips because it was the only time you didn’t make me feel like a kid that would get lost if I wandered too far! The only time I felt like an actual human instead of a fucking meat puppet!”

“The moment we decided to trust you a little, you abandoned us!” Natasha yells so loudly that Wanda even flinches. “We’re in Nebraska right now because you couldn’t stand being a good girl and waiting for us to get home!”

“You left me with a fucking babysitter, Natasha! It doesn’t matter that it was someone I actually wanted around. You installed cameras and tried to bug Wesley and me. You put a tracker in my leg! If you trusted me, why did you go through so much to make sure I couldn’t leave? You can’t say that you love me and treat me like you don’t.”

“I’m so sorry.” Wanda’s voice comes out in a whisper as she steps forward again, and you watch her eyes for any hints of red. “I never meant to make you feel so cornered, but you have to understand that I’m an Avenger. I’ve seen what enemies are out there and at one point I was one, so I just wanted to do what I could to make sure you never ended up in the wrong hands.”

“She’s right,” Natasha chimes in, clearing her throat as a single tear slips down her cheek. “I know what lengths some people will go to hurt the loved ones of the other side because I used to do that exact thing. I’d let the world end before I let any harm come to either of you, and I guess I went a little overboard with protecting you because Wanda has a bit of an advantage.”

“I know I’ll never understand what it’s like to do what you do, and to live with your pasts…” You take a deep breath as you feel a lump forming in your throat, and the hand holding the gun to your head begins to shake. “But I do know what love is supposed to feel like, and it’s not this. I shouldn’t have to worry about setting you off because I didn’t agree with something, or waking up from a week-long mind trance because you didn’t want me to fight back.”

“How about we start over?” Natasha offers, glancing at Wanda and turning back to you once she nods. “No trackers, restraints, babysitters or manipulation. Just us getting to know you and vice versa, and hopefully rebuilding the love you once felt for us.”

“Please.” Wanda gives a pointed look toward the gun still pressed against your temple. “I know how upsetting this already must be for you, so please. Let us help you make it better. Let us fix this and hopefully have an even better relationship in the future.”

“We love you, and we agree that we should’ve gone about this in a healthier way. Please give us the chance to make this right.”

“And you promise there will be no more tricks?” you ask, and Wanda nods as two more tears make an appearance.

“Cross my heart--”

“--and hope to die.”

You stand there for what feels like minutes, your gaze bouncing between the two women in front of you, hoping to gauge their level of sincerity on expressions alone. As much as you didn’t trust them because of everything they’d done before, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that missed those happier moments, and wouldn’t mind starting over to create more. Perhaps it was worth a shot, if they were truly serious about not messing with your mind anymore.

“Okay,” you finally answer, and you notice the relief appear on their faces. “If you’re serious about starting over and doing this the right way, I’ll give this a chance. But you’re going to have to wait a long time before I start to trust you.”

Wanda grins at the two of you as Natasha approaches you cautiously, and you place the gun on the chair behind you before allowing her to pull you into a hug that you melt into surprisingly fast. Your other girlfriend joins the embrace, and her ecstatic giggle is the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.

-

“Y/N/N...hey wake up!”

You jump up suddenly, nearly bumping into the person standing above you. After a few moments of blinking to adjust to the bright sunlight, you turn your head to see your cousin sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Wesley?!” you gasp as he grins in acknowledgement. “What are you doing here and why do you look like shit?”

“You know, I’m gonna let that go because it’s your wedding day, but I’ll get you back later.”

“Wait, my what?”

“Jesus, did you hit your head or something?”

“Feels like it,” you grumble as your eyes close for a moment.

“Bachelorette party must’ve been crazy.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You sigh and face him again as your eyes open. “Did you have a crazy night too or did you come here all bruised up?”

“I got into a pretty bad accident a little while ago,” he answers after a few moments of silence. “I guess I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t want you to worry, but I probably should’ve said something when I got the invitation in the mail. Which reminds me, it’s time for you to get ready.”

He stands up slowly with the help of a cane beside him and limps out of the room, and a chill washes over you as the door closes behind him. You move to run your hands over your face and pause as you feel a cool metal bump against your nose, and you lower your hands to see a ring on the appropriate finger.

Of course it made sense considering--according to Wesley--you were getting married today, and the ring is exactly what you would want, but it just doesn’t make sense how you got here. As you move onto the bathroom and begin showering, you get hit with flashes of moments with Natasha and Wanda that include the moment they proposed, but it feels a bit more like watching a movie than a memory should. Still, there’s a warm feeling in your chest as you come to terms with the fact that you’re marrying two people that have been so good to you since your relationship was formed.

“Come in!” you respond to a knock on your door as you slip on a robe, smiling as Pepper enters the room holding what seemed to be a dry cleaner’s bag and a small jewelry box.

“Hey there, just bringing your dress.” She drapes it carefully over the end of the bed and faces you while holding the box out to you. “And your almost wives wanted you to wear this.”

You take the object from her and lift the top off, gasping as a necklace is revealed. It consists of a simple silver chain, but the pendant has a spider with a prominent red gem that almost seems to glow as the sunlight makes contact with it.

“Need some help?”

You nod with an appreciative smile as you hand her the necklace and turn around, feeling your smile widen as the cool pendant touches your warm skin. Your fingers run over the spider while you wait for Pepper to secure the chain around your neck, and you face her when she pulls away.

“Thank you. Wait!” you call out as she turns to leave. “I just have to ask...Do you think going through with this wedding is a smart idea?”

“Well, I haven’t been around the three of you much, but I’ve seen the way Natasha and Wanda react whenever you’re mentioned. It’s equivalent to someone finding out they won the lottery, honestly. I also know how much time and effort they put into making this house as safe as possible to put their minds at ease about you while they’re away on missions. In my opinion, I think you’re in good hands here, but I’m also not there for the little things. I’d recommend just listening to what your heart tells you.”

You thank her before she leaves the room, letting her words echo in your mind for a bit before moving to get ready for the ceremony. The dress, you quickly discover, is an exact replica of one you’d seen in a magazine that you loved so much you saved it in a scrapbook for years. How you’d managed to track it down, you had no idea, but the questioning thoughts seemed to fade away a bit once you realized how amazing it felt to be finally wearing it.

“How do you feel?” Wesley asks once you reach the bottom of the stairs, and you loop your arm through his free one as he leads you to the back yard.

“If I’m being honest, I’m super nervous about all this. Everything’s felt like a weird coma dream since the moment I opened my eyes.”

“Hey, you’re about to spend the rest of your life with Natasha and Wanda,” he reminds you quietly, and your gaze shifts away from his joyous expression to the small crowd that begins to stand upon your arrival and Natasha and Wanda smiling at you from the end of the flowery path. 

“It’s what you’ve always wanted.”

-

**for future dark!fics you must be 18+ and have your age in your bio in order to be tagged**

Tags: @littlegasps @nat-km-mh @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @mazikeensdecker @cherrieloco @bebe404 @venteen @buckmesidewaysandcallmesteve @fayhar @becka107 @wannabe-fic-reader @beforeoursecrets @cosmicbrownies7 @messuhp @mjaudrey @sxphiaswitch @trikruismybitch @muted-stoneheart @multi-images @just-a-normalpersons @want-to-watch-it-burn @stop-drop-and-drumroll @stickystudentlightmug @pianogirl2121 @slut-for-nat

[writer-akihiko]

Hi!! I know this story is finished and old already but is it ok if you make a ending where the reader ends up with Nobunaga? I kinda want angst in it.. That would be all TY and have a great day. (The story that I'm talking about is "All For Her")

All For Her - Kennyo X Reader X Yandere!Nobunaga [ALT]

PART 1, ACTUAL ENDING

I think I got carried away, but I basically got a wheel to choose some events of this story. This is my personal characterisation of Nobunaga from IkeSen as a Yandere. Actual Nobunaga would not do this; this is my take on how Nobunaga acts as a Yandere.

Warnings: Tragedy, Character Death, Yandere Content and Emotional Manipulation

"You defiled her!" Kennyo roared, unsheathing his staff. He blocked the rampant parries of the Devil King. "And you think that's love."

"Of course," Nobunaga said smugly, dodging Kennyo's swing. "This war…

It's all for her."

~○~

"This will be the last time you hold her, Kennyo."

He roared, howling at the pain of the sword. Kennyo fell to the ground, the stab to his shoulder numbing all of his senses as the blade cuts deep into his flesh.

"Perhaps YN would cast you away if I scar your face once again… Oh… How adorable she'd look to you in horror with the new scars I give you," Nobunaga teased, his menacing tone only edging his sword. "Or, I should kill you right here, and your head should be my bride's present…"

"KENNYO!"

You had come out to the battlefield since more of the injured soldiers could barely make it to the base. Despite of the fact of being on opposite sides, you still treated some of the Oda's soldiers that couldn't reach their own healers. Those with you moved their troops away as you ran to your lover.

Nobunaga pressed the blade further into Kennyo's neck, taunting you to come closer. You kept your distance, but you were horrified at Nobunaga's antics, as his words froze you on the spot. Your body and mind shut down at the thought of Kennyo being harmed. Your blood went cold, and before you knew it you had thrown yourself on top of Kennyo, protecting him from Nobunaga's swinging sword.

"How endearing," Nobunaga smiled at you, his gaze suddenly soft at seeing you. "It's been quite long, my fireball. I knew you'd come running to me."

All the strength left your body as Nobunaga ripped you away from your lover. Your will never left you, but your fear overcame it to the point you couldn't fight against the crazed man that desired you.

The Oda, as usual were efficient in wrapping up the war. Kennyo was arrested and it was claimed as a win for the Oda. The soldiers retreated and Ieyasu cared for the wounded. You'd usually see Hideyoshi and Masamune with grins on their faces, but Hideyoshi was practically expressionless and Masamune's eye only held rage but you weren't sure who it was directed to.

The Oda celebrated their grand victory with a banquet, and the Demon King kept you by his side, pampered and decorated for his eyes only. He kept you in his lap, as your being shifted to the automatic machine it used to be, pouring sake for your obsessed captor.

What sickened you to the stomach was how he announced the banquet.

"With the capture of Kennyo, I sentence him to continuous torture!"

Oh how you wanted to throw up at whoever cheered Nobunaga on...

Eventually, once Nobunaga had gotten drunk, Hideyoshi and Masamune flanked each side of Nobunaga, as Mitsuhide and Mitsunari guarded you. You made no effort to make conversation with the other warlords, for you feared what they might spill to Nobunaga, with the exception of Mitsuhide.

With how everyone was acting, you could only assume Mitsuhide messed with the sake as he was so bold to engage in conversation with you. "Princess, you must be prepared tomorrow."

"Is there something that I missed when I return?"

His voice lowered to a hush, as he explained his intentions. "Nobunaga will find my involvement with your escape. He'd execute me, but it will give you a chance to freedom."

You almost lost your stiff conduct, a drop of sake spilling onto your kimono. Yes, it was true that Mitsuhide was involved in convincing Nobunaga to let you roam to where you were taken by Kennyo, but even by then you weren't sure of his intentions. "Mitsuhide… Why?"

His hushed voiced tickled your ear as he revealed his one intention to you.

"For the woman I love. Even if I don't have your heart, I want you to bask in freedom."

~○~

The next morning's war council came, and there and then, another lower vassal accused Mitsuhide as the traitor that led their beloved Princess to Kennyo's army. The war council this time took a casual turn, as Nobunaga deemed it fit for the ladies of the court to witness the accusation from your balcony. Behind your veil, you shed a tear, sending a venomous gaze to Nobunaga.

You excused yourself from your maids, making your way out of your personal bedroom. Mitsunari should be waiting for you, as he authorised all the guards to be positioned else where. From your knowledge, Ieyasu, Masamune and Hideyoshi were in on Mitsuhide's plan too. Masamune and Ieyasu were to take charge of Kennyo's 'daily torture', while Hiedyoshi was to cause a scene by his natural rage at Mitsuhide betraying his Lord Nobunaga.

Nobunaga raised his fan, quelling the arguments amongst his vassals. "Ah… but wait, Akechi Mitsuhide isn't the only traitor amongst the Oda."

"W-What do you mean Lord Nobunaga?" Hideyoshi, who delivered slightly fake punches to Mitsuhide in his 'anger', stopped as he questioned Nobunaga. "Mitsuhide is always one to do things on his own!"

You raced through every corridor near the tenshu, trying to find Mitsunari in the hallways. Anywhere. Where could he be? Did he get-

The roars of shock from the Oda vassals rang as two guards brought none other that Ishida Mitsunari to the podium of Nobunaga, clearly bruised and beaten.

"A report from the guards came about suspicions of your vassal here to change the guards around the palace," Nobunaga said, as he ordered the guards to drop Mitsunari. "How could I not assume he was acting under your orders, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, you monkey?"

Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi were both apprehended at the hands of their own friends. They were brought to their knees in front of their long time lord, as their heads were pushed down to hang in shame.

"To honour your execution, since you both are great friends," He announced, drawing his pistol from his kimono. "I shall have you both shoot each other until your bodies fall. I'll allow your families to bury your bodies and your next brothers shall carry on your clan's lines."

"Any last words?"

Hideyoshi walked up to his lord he once respected, snatching the gun into his hand. "I thank you for letting me die by the hands of an honorable warlord unlike yourself."

Nobunaga did not hold back his anger as he struck Hideyoshi across the face with his iron-ribbed fan.

"I wouldn't have done this if you returned to the Lord Nobunaga I used to serve," Hideyoshi retorted, taking his stance with the gun pointed at Mitsuhide.

Mitsuhide had nothing to say to Nobunaga, except the silent nod to receive his gun. He raised it to Hideyoshi, saying his last to an old friend.

"Sorry for being a good shot."

"Don't be."

BANG!

You couldn't hold back your tears for Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide. You sobbed into your kimono, your mind being invaded by negative thoughts of your doings being the cause of their deaths. You didn't want this. You didn't want this. If only you had-

"The other two traitors are here!"

The crowd shifted as Ieyasu and Masamune made their way through the crowd, having heard the gunshots. From what you could discern, they were brought there by the jail guards by the orders of Nobunaga's messengers.

"This audience has had enough execution for the day," Nobunaga decided, looking over the three captured warlords under his hand. "However, I might as well give out the sentences now."

Ieyasu and Masamune were not bounded to any guards, but it was clear that they had long accepted their deaths. You wanted at least one of them to abandon you, to give you a sign that you weren't worth the trouble but none of them did. Those three stood their ground, as they face the Devil King himself.

"Ishida Mitsunari, under influence of Toyotomi Hideyoshi shall have a beheading for all to see," He commanded. The scribes were rapid to jot everything down, their parchment wet from the ink and not from the blood seeping into the paper. "Tokugawa Ieyasu and Date Masamune, for assisting the traitors, from this moment our alliance in dissolved. The Oda shall act on their own without your help."

"You shall be sent away. Unfortunately my authority does not reach you."

Masamune scoffed, "I wouldn't want to serve such a stupid warlord anyway."

Nobunaga shrugged it off. "May I meet you two on the battlefield, where I shall have your heads."

"May we have our revenge," Ieyasu said, walking away from the crowd, Masamune behind him.

~○~

Months had passed. Months of staying in this empty shell of yours, made to serve only Nobunaga. Before the last of his days, Mitsunari had requested to play Go with you. You apologised immensely for causing such tragedy, but Mitsunari welcomed you wholesomely. There was no hard feelings as his execution neared, and he advised you to not attend or witness it. You shed tears for Mitsunari, the handkerchief used to catch your tears delivered to Mitsunari's grave.

The day Nobunaga returned from his umpteenth war was as normal as any other day to you. You were sewing mindlessly, as you had no will to greet Nobunaga. He understood that, instead barging into your shared bedroom with familiar cloths around his arm.

He grinned as he noticed you recognise the band of cloth around his arm. "Ah, a parting gift from Ieyasu and Masamune before I took their heads. They consented to it as well, but you're not allowed to bring it around-"

"I hate you. I hate you, I HATE YOU!" You screamed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I don’t mind firecracker," He said, his grip starting to feel painful at your wrist. "You see, I didn't care if those five were traitors or not. It was my luck that they fit into the narrative."

He continued, soothing your cries. "I was only getting rid of anyone who held your attention. I was drunk at that banquet but I still loathed how they befriended you so easily… I did it for you…

It's all for you."

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

weapon? monster? child.

this was a request from ao3 for some roman jason! i hope y'all enjoy

CW: vague manipulation themes

[images have alt text]

Even wolves bow to the law.

Jason Grace wakes up with his alarm. 7:00 a.m., it blinks at him. The first thing he feels is the cool breeze that blows in from the river bordering their camp, and through the window near his bed. They put him here so he’d be the first point of protection should anything from outside try to attack. He took the position gratefully. Lowered his head in thanks and packed up the little he had. From the big warm rooms of the main house where the youngest of them slept, to the straight and narrow dormitories of their assigned cohorts.

His blue eyes, dull and wide, blink as he stares at the roof. He’s one of the luckier ones. He has a whole bunk to himself. People are scared to sleep next to him, or near him. This son of Jupiter, this child of Lupa, this being of Power. What if they shake the bunk in the night and he tears them apart with his father’s lightning.

Jason would never. He is trained better than that. He will have control of his emotions. If he doesn't, innocent people will die. He knows this. A cub got hurt once. He wasn’t allowed to eat for a week. At least not with the pack. He was too young to get food on his own. He must learn the ways of the wolves, for they are the way of the world, and the bearers of the law.

Even wolves bow to the law.

He swings his legs over the bed, and jumps down. His landing is silent. The floorboards do not even creak. They are cold though, but he is used to this. It is the second thing that wakes him up.

The routine goes like this: alarm>roof>floorboards>cold water>clothes> weapon check>breakfast>camp activities.

Everyday. Every Single Day. Always the same thing, never a deviation, never an interruption. We must be organized beings Jason , he hears Lupa in his head over and over again, f or if we are chaos we must expect to be destroyed. Chaos must not exist outside of it’s containment. That was the final lesson. Chaos doesn’t follow rules therefore it should not exist.

Jason splashes cool water on his face, stares at himself in the scratched mirror. Too many demigods looking through the same glass. He wonders if any of them want to see something different? He does. Gods he does, desperately and ungratefully.

He wants to see how blue his eyes can get. And if his hair can be messier than this buzzed golden blonde look. If his hands can be softer than the callouses he always sports. And if his skin can be more golden. Would he look more alive?

He goes to breakfast. They're serving an array of things. Jason gets oats with too much honey. He sits at the edge of a table, nearest to the exit. Some people come to sit at the same table, but they keep a distance that moving closer would not bridge. Their laughter is his curiosity, their questions are his silent answers. He agrees that Silene from cohort three should go with the blue hair ties because it matches her socks. He decides diet coke is the best of the diet cola series. He frowns when Lucian from cohort two shows off their new throwing dagger at the table.

No weapons where you eat. Lupa frowns when he brings a whittled stick to their meal. Why? Because eating is a time of truce and peace. If I bared my fangs at you while you ate how would you feel? And his little eyes had grown wide as saucers, tears filling faster than he could stop them. Yes Lupa , he had mumbled, throwing his tiny spear away. He had just wanted to show her what he could do. He would never use it on them. That was the first of many things he had made and lost. Hard labour is only accepted when it benefits someone else. Another lesson learned.

Even wolves bow to the law.

The sword slips from his grip. Before it hits the floor his other hand is grabbing it. With a low growl he starts again. Twirl, strike, counter, direction, twirl, sidestep. He gets it this time. He allows a small smile. If there was a mirror he would have seen his eyes shine a little brighter.

“Jason!” Someone calls his name from outside. He nearly flinches. With a toss of his sword it pockets as a coin and then he’s jogging towards the door.

“Hey,” He squints the sun out of his eyes, searching for his summouner against the bright morning.

Reyna, a new camper, still young but full of anger, stands in front of him. Her legs are shoulder width apart, hands on her hips. Her tattoo is so pitch black against her brown skin. A single stripe mars her arm. He wonders if her collection of lines will someday rival his. The frown creasing her dark eyebrows is securely in place.

“What’s wrong?”

“They said you have to train me today.”

“Why me?” He frowns, looking around her for older campers. It is not traditional for campers as young as him to be training new recruits. Even if he has been here longer than most demigods. Still the older ones are given duties and responsibilities like this. There is a hierarchy and it starts with the time of your birth.

“Will you teach me?” The demand sort of irks him but only because he has never been asked to do something like this and now it is just being thrown at him with no warning, or training.

He tries not to let it show on his face. He must do a good job because her own fierce expression doesn’t change, react to him. She simply stares.

“Yes,” He motions for her to follow him back into the training center. “I will teach you.”

“What do we start with?” Her excitement is starting to wage war with her anger. They are still little kids after all.

“We start with body training.” He looks her over, assessing the thinness of her arms, the way her legs sway even when she tries to stand still. As if she had been on a ship for too long and her body no longer knows what solid ground feels like.

“What?” She’s back to frowning, glaring at him. “I want to learn how to use weapons. I want to fight.”

“The first weapon is your body.” He says, moving to the center of the room where a large training mat is spread across the floor.

“No, the first weapon is the one I can get my hands on.”

“How will you use a weapon if you can’t even hold it?” He doesn't understand why she won’t follow the order of things. Train your body>wield the weapon>fight the war. That’s how it is. That’s the order.

“My mother is Bellona!” She growls. “I already know how to fight.”

He stands in front of her, considering. They are about the same height, definitely the same age, though his weight is solid, whereas she looks like she’s been eating nothing but berries and cold meats for weeks. No sustenance.

“Okay Reyna,” He raises a brow. Something thrums under his skin, increases his heart rate. He believes it’s excitement. Are his eyes glowing? “If you can lay me down in two minutes, we’ll start on weapons training right away.”

The gleam that enters her gaze, brown eyes brightening like headlights, almost makes him laugh. “Fine.” She gives him a single nod.

And then she’s sprinting towards him, teeth bared, hands clawed in front of her. She fights like it's survival. He knows something of that. He steps out of the way. Her frustration is a spark. And she is dynamite. He is there to watch the world blow up. His eyes are lightning blue.

Wolves may bow to the law. But they hunt the chaos.

[scorpionyx9621]

While the art is left to be desired (i'm hope i use this ohrase right, my english is awful). I suprised that i found future state!Jason to be more enjoyable than Urban Legend one. Like he's way more capable there and [spoiler alert] also Bruce depend on him and still call him son? So you can have a bad ass Jason and good son jason at the same time.

So I need to apologize because this turned into a rant about Jason's characterization as whole and MAN is it long-winded and I'm sorry.

I have to agree. I really like the characterization Future State/Dark Detective is going for with Jason.

Jason is still the typical Jason we've grown to expect. Cold, cynical, snarky, willing to cross the dark red line and kill if need be, but he's still shown to have emotions. When he's betraying the family it's vocalized by Jason that he's upset about the situation. He doesn't want to, but he must for the mission Bruce put him under.

Truth be told, I'm not fully caught up on Future State/Dark Detective. I've kind of been reading spoilers and just getting the general gist in the periphery from people like you on Tumblr. I've been more focused on Urban Legends, which, while I will say I still don't hate the story, hell we still have two issues left of Cheer, and I by no means think Chip Zdarsky is a bad writer by any means. His characterization of Jason irks me.

*God I was so on the fence about Eddy Barrow's take on Jason until Issue #3. That right there? THAT. That's a handsome ass man Maurry*

ANYWAYS: I'm irked by Zdarsky's take on Jason just because of how hot headed and brash Jason is. Now don't get me wrong, every main writer for Jason has taken a bit of a different spin and while the big characters who have written Jason (Judd Winnick, Scott Lobdell, Tony Daniel) and while Zdarsky seems to be what I'm hoping to be a bit of a medication of Jason & Bruce's relationship. He's doing it at the expendature of Jason's characterization of being a damn near criminal mastermind.

If we focus on Winnick and Daniel's interpretation of Jason (Winnick wrote the original Under the Hood & Lost Days. Daniels wrote Battle for the Cowl) as well as all Pre-New 52 versions of Jason. Jason is a monster. Like genuinely a horrible human being. He still fights for right moral side (he kills mostly child abusers/drug traffickers and the likes) but this Jason is genuinely unhinged and while smart, he's absolutely monster. Hell, in Battle for the Cowl after hearing Bruce's final words, he has a villainous breakdown. Dresses as batman, and starts killing people. Judd Winnick himself said he sees Jason as a 'Psychopath' and there are a lot of very vocal people who say Winnick's original interpretation of Jason as a violent, misanthropic villain is the superior version and that Jason should return to this.

*I love to point out that I made a post on my alt account questioning Jason's age in this issue. Turns out he's Like SEVENTEEN. I get why they draw him older and more mature because of his darker/more villainous tendencies. But there's something kind of True Crime Podcast host fascination I have with this greasy, crusty, 17 year old who just casually kills 30 mobsters in horrific gun violence and calls it a day.*

Then we have the New 52. And in comes Red Hood & The Outlaws + the eventual Red Hood: Outlaw series. Piloted by the one Scott Lobdell. Now I know a lot of people dislike Lobdell for his takes on certain characters, his all-over-the-place writing style. (Let's not forget his allegations of SA and the fact that he openly admits that he wrote Jason as a self-insert for a 'bad guy seeking redemption') this was my first comic experience with Jason and to be honest, I can't bring myself to hate it. Sure there's some parts that literally show how much of a dumpster fire Lobdell's writing can become, but for the most part I genuinely liked the characterization of Jason that Lobdell gives. Jason may be a bit more reactionary and just kind of making shit up as he goes along, but he's far from dumb. The intro to the series has Jason sneaking into a terrorist run nuclear sub and killing everyone inside.

Again: Lobdell's writing is all of the place. But I do like that his take on Jason is a bit more subdued. I know in the New 52 they wanted to make Jason an Anti-Hero. Someone who very much still driven by emotion and revenge. But he's definetly more relaxed and even has a lot of fun. Intelligence wise he has is moments, but it does emphasize that while he may be the best read Robin, he does have a tendency to leap before he looks. Also all the art for RHATO with the exception of a few series were TOP TIER. I understand why they hired artists like Kenneth Rocafort and Dexter Soy to rehabilitate his image. I mean, come on.

Now if we're talking about Jason's intelligence, I'd be absolutely remiss if I didn't discuss Red Hood: Outlaw and the Price of Gotham Arc. Specifically this exchange between Bruce & Jason. To me, this is the single best part of Lobdell's run and shows Jason's true intelligence.

To give a rundown: After Bruce banished Jason from Gotham after seemingly killing the Penguin. Bruce proceeded to find Jason and literally beat him to within an inch of his life. It took MONTHS for Jason to recover. A lot happens but mostly Jason finds out (from Bruce no less) that Penguin is still alive. Jason hatches a devious plan. He takes over the iceberg lounge, kidnaps and holds Penguin hostage. Publically outs himself as Jason Todd, the dead ward of Bruce Wayne, as alive and well, and the new owner of the Iceberg Lounge.

When Bruce finds out he's clearly pissed and goes to confront Jason because he's banished him from Gotham. But because Jason outed himself as alive and one of Bruce's sons. Batman can do NOTHING. Jason has Bruce by the balls. If Bruce does anything to Jason while he's out and alive as Jason, all Jason has to do is tell the truth. And the whole Batman jig is up in an instant. And Bruce? After these panels? He runs off with his tail between his leg because he can't touch Jason. And all Jason did was capture penguin, and come out as alive. THIS is the Jason that I love. This is the Jason that strikes fear into people's hearts.

I think a lot of the general complaints we see about Jason as a whole is just how inconsistent he is with his writing. Which I agree. It's hard to characterize Jason well when there's been a character like Lobdell who was at the Helm of Jason's character for 10 years and then forced to leave. And I don't really know if DC has any really solid plans for his character and development. There's a lot of hype surrounding the end of Cheer and them saying it'll 'change Red Hood & Batman's relationship forever' as well as with Jason being featured in the new Suicide Squad coming this August, and Jason getting a feature in an issue of Robin. It'll be interesting to see where they take the character. Personally I do want a resumption of Jason. But like Harley Quinn where they're taking their sweet time redeeming her. Jason has done A LOT of awful things and of they wanna make him a hero, I want a few years to pass in terms of monthly issues before we see Jason become a hero again.

*edit: spelling*

[eldritch-araneae]

Sparkpulse IV: Sleeping Beast Within.

Summery:

Bumblebee and Cheetor are chilling together on a nice quiet evening :3

It’s a nice and calm evening today. No Decepticons activities. Bumblebee and Cheetor are relaxing on a random ledge above the cafeteria, watching everyone chilling with their energon. Cheetor is currently in their spotted ray-cheetah alt form, laying with their limbs tucked underneath the body. A position which everyone lovingly calls a “loaf form”. Bumblebee is beside his feline friend, pressing onto their side and mimicking the same position.

Both Special Operations agents were talking about random stuff, from patrol and mission discussions to random shenanigans that happened to other Autobots. Life is never boring in their department, even during the night, considering a lot of agents are nocturnal cybertronians, including Bumblebee himself.

Bumblebee slightly nudges Cheetor to make them look at him. Cheetor is hard-of-hearing, and their hearing can vary from moderate to severe. They have hearing aids, but sometimes they are not much help. So everyone quickly learned that they must make sure that Cheetor sees them before talking to make lip-reading and signing easier.

“How was your patrol, by the way?” Bumblebee asks his diurnal friend.“Did you find any interesting stuff among the ruins?”

“Nope, whatever was in that building eroded long ago.” Cheetor sighs, but then grins a second later. “I still can’t believe you found that super old board game intact!” they exclaimed, lightly bumping the minibot with their nose.

Bumblebee giggles at the display of affection. He loves little things like this. He bumps Cheetor back with his forehead. “I know right! It was in such good condition that even acid rain and stuff didn’t eat it.”

At that moment, Jazz enters the room and as he sees the pair of “cats” on the ledge above, he bursts into laughter.

“I must admit, Cheetor, I never expected you to teach our youngest member the way of the cat!” the head of Special Operations Department chortles, “Bumblebee, please be honest! Can you purr already?”

Cheetor wheezes at Jazz’s question, while Bumblebee grins widely.

“Well, I tried, but apparently I can only growl.” the minibot answers with all his honesty. “It doesn’t feel like I am supposed to be a feline.”

“Well, it doesn’t stop you from being a cat anyway!” Jazz grins, gesturing at Bumblebee’s current “loaf” position. Cheetor wheezes, making a sound like a kettle from Wheeljack’s lab. That caused all three to burst into laughter. After that, they exchanged a few words before Jazz went to grab his energon cube. The minibot and the beastformer keep chilling on the ledge, observing everyone below them.

Imitation is an interesting thing indeed. It’s a natural process that allows a living being to fit better in their social environment.

It’s not like Cheetor was teaching Bumblebee feline behavior on purpose. It just happened because the minibot spent a lot of time with them and other Autobot felines after he made amends with Steeljaw.

Bumblebee adopted some cat mannerisms. This is when his beast protocols surfaced. Both Perceptor and Botanica are absolutely sure the minibot was bound to be a beastformer, but lack of resources forced him to take a vehicle-type alt form. This leaves a lot of questions, but it’s not possible to answer them for now.

Still, this explains a lot of things: his quadrupedal mode could be an attempt of his body to compensate for the lack of beast-type alt form. Or how he feels like he’s missing some parts, like additional limbs.

Bumblebee is sure he’s supposed to have wings! Every time he swings with his cables, the overwhelming nostalgia makes his spark ache and his back feels abnormally light. After a while, this feeling grew into an itch, and just swinging around the stronghold wouldn’t satisfy it anymore.

Windblade could see the pained look on his face, so she indulged him and took him skydiving. Just flying up with her already feels so much better. And the moment Windblade turns off her engines and they start falling is pure joy, making him tear up every time.

The wind rushing past him, the feeling of flying, the stimulant rush. Bumblebee forgets about all his insecurities and worries, feeling that he belongs in the sky.

This is the closest to flying he ever got, or will ever get, as sad as it sounds.

Bumblebee shakes his head. There is no reason to wallow about things he can’t have, he has to work with what he’s given. That’s why he can’t wait for Windblade to come back from her mission, so they can go skydiving again.

The anticipation quickly fades as the door opens to the cafeteria, revealing Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker going in. The minibot tenses upon seeing them. Those two are not buddies, not at all.

“Bee, are you okay? Your optics have slits.” Cheetor’s voice pulls Bumblebee’s attention to themself. Pupils turning into slits, another feature of a beastformer, that happens when one is angry, exposed to light, or in alt mode.

“I’m okay, it’s just... well him.” He hisses at Sunstreaker below, who seems like he didn’t realize that Bumblebee is in the room too. “I still don’t know what I did to him to receive such treatment.”

“He’s always been such a slaghead as long as I remember.” Cheetor sighs. “But it’s undeniable that he’s really out there to get you for no reason. Don’t worry, I will eat his shins if he tries to do anything to you!”

Bumblebee smiles at support. He really appreciates it. Though this smile fades quickly because the problem is still there and he does not know what to do with this.

Sunstreaker hates the minibot for unknown reasons and will grab any chance to harass him. Thankfully, his friends, especially Windblade, made it crystal clear that if he hurt Bumblebee, Sunstreaker won’t come out in one piece.

Still, Bumblebee feels that animosity directed at him from the yellow gladiator’s spark.

That’s just so unfair that it hurts!

Thankfully, before Bumblebee could start fully seething about this, Blaster, with his cassettes, entered the cafeteria. Cheetor greets the fellow Special Ops members, which pulls the minibot out of the spiral of negative emotions.

Suddenly, the optics of Bumblebee, Cheetor, Steeljaw and Nightstalker are locked onto each other. For a few seconds, they stared. Everyone who noticed this stopped doing what they were doing because they knew what would happen next.

Who will run first?

Who will start the game?

The next second, Nightstalker bolts from the spot they were standing into the stronghold corridors. Steeljaw jumps after them, followed by Bumblebee and Cheetor jumping from the ledge.

The chase has begun, leaving laughing bots in the cafeteria behind!

The stomping is so intense that someone might think it’s Dinobots, not three cats and Bumblebee running through corridors. He never said it out loud, but those games helped him to be more confident with his quadrupedal mode, making him even more agile.

After a few more turns of running, Steeljaw catches Nightstalker. Now it’s their turn to be chased. He turns around and runs in the opposite direction, into the medical wing.

A medbay door opens, and Ratchet almost got thrown on the floor if he didn’t see Steeljaw coming. With a yelp, he quickly jumps back into the room, and the rest of the group runs by him. He can only shake his head as he foresees someone getting hurt. But he cannot deny that cats need to get their zoomies out... though he still can’t believe they dragged Bumblebee into their games.

The three beastformers and the minibot keep running until Bumblebee finally catches Steeljaw.

“You’ll never catch me!” the minibot proclaims, as he takes an instant sharp turn and starts running at full speed.

“Hey!” Cheetor yelps, not expecting such a fast reaction from the minibot. Being the fastest quadrupedal out of Autobots, they quickly catch up with the minibot, almost being within their reach.

Bumblebee feels ‌Cheetor is getting close to him and takes another unexpected turn to avoid being caught. But surprises won’t end here.

Just ahead of him, the door opens and Optimus Prime steps into the corridor. Bumblebee sees it too late and slams into his leg at full speed. Optimus loses balance and falls onto his back. Cheetor, who was right behind Bumblebee, couldn’t stop in time and stepped all over their leader, including his face, before sliding into the wall. Steeljaw and Nightstalker, who were much farther behind, heard the commotion and slowed down, only slightly bumping into Optimus.

“What happened?! Are you okay, Optimus?” Prowl rushed from the same room to help his friend sit up.

“I am alright.” Optimus reassures the second in command and looks at the yellow culprit, who is laughing on the floor right.

“I’m sorry, Prime! I didn’t see you!” Bumblebee somehow utters the apology between laughs. He was so focused on getting away from Cheetor on his tail that he didn’t even pay attention to what was in front of him.

“I’m sorry too, for stepping on you!” Cheetor, who is giggling, apologizes next. “Looks like we got carried away.”

This earned a fit of giggles from everyone. Bumblebee’s laugh is simply contagious. No one can resist, not even serious bots like Prowl.

“This was bound to happen, I feel. Though, I wouldn’t expect Bumblebee to be the one throwing me off my feet.” Optimus chuckles. He turns to Bumblebee, who, despite the laughing fit, is cradling his left arm. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay!” Bumblebee exclaims, trying to throw his arms up, but his left arm quickly responds with pain from sharp movement. “Ow, ow, ow!” he grimaces. “Okay, maybe I’m not. Looks like I dislocated my shoulder or something.” he corrected with a giggle. Sure, it hurts, but this entire situation is too amusing to him to focus on the pain.

“Oh no!” Cheetor feels bad for their friend. “I will make sure he’ll make it to medbay!”

“Good. So what did we learn today?” Prowl asks the youngest member of Autobots.

“I learned that if I slam into Prime’s leg hard enough --” he didn’t even finish as everyone erupted into laughs again.

After everyone calmed down, Cheetor with the cassettes helped Bumblebee to get to the medbay.

When they entered Ratchet’s domain, the medic already could guess what happened. But he would never guess who fell victim to their shenanigans this time.

“Let me get this straight.” Ratchet slightly pinches the bridge of his nose.” You, Bumblebee, tripped Optimus Prime? And damaged your left arm in the process?”

The only answer he received was another row of laughter from beastformers, which served as confirmation.

“Aright. Bumblebee, you get into the berth, and your three are out.” Ratchet said. The minibot nodded to his playmates, and they went back to their game, chasing after Cheetor.

Then he walks over to the berth. Ratchet helps him to get on it with his magnetokinesis, before proceeding to inspect the injury. The medic carefully popped Bumblebee’s shoulder into the socket. The pain is lifted.

“Thanks, Ratchet.” Bumblebee says sheepishly.

“You should be more careful with their games. You are not as durable as they are, Bumblebee, and they tend to play rough.” Ratchet grumbles.

“C’mon, they never hurt me, and it’s fun!” Bumblebee protests. He doesn’t like to be reminded of his condition, though he knows this comes out of concern. “Alright, alright I will.”

Ratchet nods, satisfied with the answer. “Hold still, I will check if your arm sustained any more injuries.”

Bumblebee decided to check radio channels as he waited. Maybe he can hear if Windblade is coming back soon. After swapping multiple channels, Bumblebee stumbled upon a strange signal.

The signal is transmitted through a channel that he never saw before. As if it was turned off until someone began using it recently. And the signal itself is something he never heard Autobots or Decepticons using. It sounded like a series of beeps, short and long.

“Is something wrong?” Ratchet asks, noticing the minibot’s confused expression. Bumblebee opens the radio channel with the medic, letting him listen to that signal.

“Did you hear something like this before?” he asks the medic. He’s one of the eldest Autobots. Surely he heard something like this, right?

But Ratchet is confused as much as Bumblebee, “I do not know. We should notify the High Command about this. Who knows if Decepticreeps invented another way of secret communication… after I finish with your arm.”

The minibot nods and continues listening to the signal. He can’t help but feel it seems oddly familiar to him. After multiple passes, Bumblebee notices it has a specific pattern that looks like this:

... .... .- -.. --- .-- .-.. ..- .-. -.- . .-. --..-- / .-- . / -. . . -.. / - --- / - .- .-.. -.- .-.-.-

After he got the pattern, much to Bumblebee’s surprise, his system recognized it and began deciphering. When he saw the meaning of the message, his spark almost jumped out of his chest.

“WHAT?!”