#will try to not kill myself in front of them to change the trajectory of their lives

[evilestscientist]

best part of the year is planning silly little vacations with your friends that almost dismantle the whole friend group but make it stronger in the end

[suiana]

could i ask for a yan!childhood friend. but the childhood friend is the friend of our daughter and we’re her parent. (we think he likes her but he likes us. 18+ obviously) the darling is like a milf or whatever. pretty please with a cherry on top :)

SHUT UPP i love this idea, childhood friend redemption arc?!!?! maybe he wont be my most hated yan anymore!?

(yandere! childhood friend x gn! parent reader)

"my dear, you need to calm down. you don't like me, it's just the hormones-"

"please! pleasepleaseplease just give me one chance! i know you and your spouse aren't together anymore so just give me a chance. i may be younger but i promise i'll treat you so good that you won't regret choosing me!"

the male whines, his hands clasped together in front of his face as he begs you to accept his confession.

obviously you weren't going to accept. why would you? you practically watched him grow up alongisde your daughter! and yes, you knew he's had a little bit of an obsession since he was young but you always thought it was just a kid thing. you never encouraged it, always politely told him that he'd grow up, find someone else his age he'd truly love, maybe someone like your daughter.

what you never expected was for him to continue his obsession well into his early adulthood. especially when it's on you, a 40 something year old that was the parent of his best friend.

you knew you were attractive. you've had lots of people tell you that since forever, and the compliments only rose after you became a parent. you've even heard some kids nowadays call you a... parent they'd like to fuck? was it? you always found it weird. but either way, you never entertained any of their words, especially confessions as you had not wanted any of them to get the wrong idea.

most of them moved on. unfortunately not this boy.

"you're literally the only one for me! i don't care if you're almost 50! it's only like... 20 something years! i'm legal already!"

he continues to beg, hands caging you against a nearby wall. you merely let out a sigh, shaking your head as the male continues to ramble on about how much he adores you.

"my dear, i will not get with you no matter what."

you merely reply to his heartfelt words with a simple sentece, patting his shoulder before you try to push him away. though, you could only freeze in place as you feel the air around you drop in temperature, the aura around the young man changing in an instant.

"if you don't go out with me i'll kill myself in front of you and change the trajectory of your life forever."

"what?!"

ah, younglings and their passion for older people. how fun! not for you though.

[bless-my-demons]

Redamancy: Chapter Twenty-Four

Series Summary: What happens when your soulmate is a vampire that struggles to maintain a diet of trying not to kill you? Common sense says run for the hills, nothing is worth your life - but my heart is whispering why not, what’s there to lose?

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, cuss words, and… angst

Notes: I fell asleep after I decided to add a Jasper dialogue last night… I’m sorry it’s later than normal lol remember, I told yall Jasper has to make up for his being gone😌🫣

Word Count: 2373

Series Masterlist

• March 20th, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

The weekend passed by in a blur, I spent it wishing I got more time with Jasper, but he desperately needed to hunt. So that left me with Quil, if he noticed my far-away mind, he didn’t comment, the new video game he picked up Friday occupied most of his attention.

Friday. I jumped off a cliff with Bella, was rescued by Quil’s ex-best friend, and then the object of my every waking thought showed up at my doorstep.

Friday was a long day, to say the least.

Which brings us to today - Monday. I have to go to school as if it were a normal fucking day, like my weekend hadn’t changed the trajectory of my life. Like my other best friend isn’t in Italy right now fighting to save the man she loves.

Slamming the door shut to my locker, I turn towards the direction of second period when a hulking mass at the other end of the hallway stops me short.

The blonde next to him grins, gracefully walking in my direction as if no more than the weekend had passed since I last saw them.

“Life has been rather dull without you.” Rosalie brings me into a delicate hug, the smile on her face growing.

“I missed you too.” The words aren’t much more than a whisper and my heart twists in my chest, they’re really back.

My eyes haven’t left his and they’re so full of sadness. The hallway empties out, but neither of us has managed to move an inch or look away.

Rose nudges me, “Go.”

A simple word, but the command moves my feet. It started off as one step and then two, but then I’m halfway down the hallway in a full sprint. Emmett takes one large step and then another before I fling myself into his arms, wrapping my own tightly around his neck.

“I hate you.” The words aren’t true, but this ache in my chest can’t be described any other way.

“I know.” His words are muffled as he lifts me.

“I missed you every day.” Tears well in my eyes, making it hard to see the grin splitting Rosalie’s face.

“I missed you more.” He argues back.

Safety, that’s Emmett McCarty Cullen. He’s strength and power and softness that only a man his size with his heart could exude. He is the definition of protector - someone that would go to any lengths to safeguard those closest to him. And just his hugs alone could cure anything, the hug of a brother who cares immensely.

“You left me.” The tremble in my voice gives my hurting heart away.

He clears his throat, “And I put him through hell every day for it.”

“He really has.” Rose confirms, full on smiling at me.

Emmett sets me back down on my own two feet, holding my shoulders in his massive hands, “Never again, I can promise you that.”

“Emmett-” I start, but he isn’t having it.

“Nope, we’re already late for class and I have some catching up to do.” Winking, he offers me one arm and his mate the other, leading us in the direction of next period.

• March 21st, 2006 • Home •

Reader

“Hey, you got a sec?” Knocking on the door frame to my mother’s bedroom, I watch as she turns off her tv.

“For you? Always honey, c’mere.” She pats the bed in front of her, her full attention making me a little nervous.

I sit and work up the courage for a few beats. “He’s back.”

“I know, I saw Doctor Cullen at work yesterday.” Her calm answer surprises me.

“I’m not sure what to do, momma.” I pull at her old bed spread, hoping for some words of wisdom.

“Well, you have options.” Her warm hands cover mine and encourage me to meet her eyes. “You can kick him to the curb since he dropped off the face of the earth for six months.”

“Or?” I ask, provoking her to complete her unfinished advice.

“Or, you can give him another chance.” A beat of silence while I weighed her answer. “You don’t have to do it right away either, you can ask for space to think about it. You can make him talk it out too.”

I process the possibility of cutting him out of my life for all of half a second before my heart tells me it’s impossible.

“Talk to him, I know you need to.” My mother has always been able to read me like a book, it’s why it’s so easy to get along with her.

“Why give me options? Why not forbid me to see him?”

Her knowing smile grows, “Because you’ll do what you want anyways. And no matter how much I want to protect my baby,” she lovingly strokes my cheek, “you have to navigate this in a way that heals that pretty heart of yours. I’d be failing you as a parent to not allow you to figure this out.”

“Mom-” tears threaten the corners of my eyes.

“Don’t think that means I’ll cut him some slack.” She jokes, but her tone includes some seriousness. “He hurt my baby.”

“I love you, you know that?”

“Always sweet pea, I love you too.” She delivers a sloppy kiss to my cheek before reclining back to her previous tv-watching position.

Rising from her bed with a lighter heart in my chest, she stops me at her doorway, “I got your back kid, whatever you decide.”

I turn and give her a genuine smile, “I know, thanks mom.”

• March 22nd, 2006 • Forks HS •

Reader

Setting my tray down at the dubbed “Cullen table” I make direct eye contact with Edward as I stand before the siblings.

Don’t fucking do that again.

His face splits with a grin. “To which are you referring?”

Leaving her, leaving your family, going to Volterre with a death wish, you fucking idiot.

He actually laughs at my angry directive thoughts, the bastard.

You have people that care about you, you know. My eyes soften as his meet mine seriously. Including me. I’m glad you’re safe. And home.

He nods, unable to meet my eyes now.

“I’d hug you if you weren’t so adverse to physical affection.” Before I finish my statement, he rises from his chair to round the table towards me.

Shock roots me to the spot as his arms envelop lightly around my frame, my arms hesitantly wrapping around the tall Cullen after a beat.

“Thank you.” It’s whispered low enough for just me to hear and he’s returning to his seat.

Emmett’s jaw practically hits the floor, “You’ve never given me a hug-”

“Because your hugs are rather violent in their intensity.” Edward notates.

“But-” Emmett whines.

“No ‘buts’, I’m his favorite.” Sticking out my tongue at Emmett as I take my seat next to Jasper, the jealous vampire launches into a deep explanation of why he must be the family favorite.

“Thank you for starting something I will never hear the end of.” Jasper leans over to whisper in my ear as I grin at Edward who rolls his eyes.

“Glad to be of service.”

Reader

That afternoon I rode with Alice to the Cullen’s after school, something about an intervention with Bella and their family. And naturally, the curious part of me agreed to tag along.

The moment her car comes to a stop in their driveway, Jasper is opening my door and offering me a steadying hand.

“Do you know what this is about?” I ask, watching as Alice skips ahead of us.

“Not a clue, sweet girl.” He answers, leading me inside his family home.

His cool hand enveloping mine sends a pang through my chest, it’s like none of this is real - I’m just in some heavy dream. I’ve wished and hoped for their return with every fucking cell in my body, but now that they’re back? It’s surreal and I’m on edge - I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Standing loosely in a circle in the living room, our attention turns to Bella on the stairs, Edward looming behind her.

“You all know what I want. And I know how much I’m asking for. The only thing I can think of, for it to be fair, is to just vote.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Shut up.” Bella shushes Edward from his grumbling.

Bella is asking them to vote on her becoming a vampire? A slight tremble begins in my hands, this isn’t exactly a debate I’d wished to be a part of. I mean, what would this mean for me? Would we eventually have one of these for me?

“Alice?” Bella asks, opting for starting with the one securely in her corner.

“I already consider you my sister.” She surges forward to wrap her in a hug. “Yes.”

One vote yes.

“Thank you.”

“I vote yes.” The rumble of Jasper’s chest under the hand I have placed there stops my breathing. “It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time.”

It would be nice to not want to kill you all the time. The words ring in my ears and burn my chest, repeating.

Two votes yes.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry to both of you for how I’ve acted. And I’m really grateful that you were brave enough to go and save my brother.” Rosalie’s next sentence a quiet confession within her answer, “But this isn’t a life I would’ve chosen for myself. And I wish there had been someone there to vote no for me. So, no.”

A breath, one vote no.

“I vote hell yeah.” Em spins her around in his excitement, “We can pick a fight with these Volturi some other day.”

Three votes yes, one vote no.

“I already consider you a part of the family, yes.” Esme happily gives her blessing as Carlisle steps forward to look at Edward.

Four votes yes, it’s almost unanimous.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He asks his adoptive father. “You know what this means.”

“You’ve chosen not to live without her, which leaves me no choice. I won’t lose my son.”

Carlisle’s answer is like a gavel being slammed down, sealing her fate, confirming what she wants.

Bella meets my eyes, even I can tell relief floods them as I’m sure anxiety fills mine. She’s going to turn into one of them - a vampire.

Jasper

After a few heavy minutes following the votes of my family, I turn to Y/n.

“Would you like to go home? It’s getting late.” I ask her, but her eyes are distant.

Immediately I gently probe at her emotions, but I can feel her trying to suppress them. I furrow my brow as I look down at her, why is she hiding from me?

I tilt her chin back and she removes herself entirely. Ice, I know as a vampire my core temperature is already low from the absence of blood in my system, but with her physical departure - it feels as though every ounce of warmth has been zapped from my very soul.

“I need time.” Her request is hardly a whisper and her eyes still refuse to meet mine.

Shock roots me to the floor, time? She’s asking for time from me. Not with, from. Away. Without.

And I must grant it to her. I’d give her anything in this world she would ask for.

I remove myself a step back from her even though my chest wishes to tug me forward.

“Emmett?” I ask aloud, not taking my eyes from her, he immediately answers by way of flashing to my side. “Take her home?”

“Of course, but-?” Curiosity tinged with sadness finishes what he fails to ask.

“Just get her home safe, please.” I step aside, forcing my eyes to my shoes as I clear the path to the front door for them.

Emmett escorts her outside and I swear, every bit of strength leaves and threatens to buckle me. I watch as the Jeep’s tail lights disappear down the driveway from the front windows.

“It’s the right thing to do.” Esme lays a hand on my shoulder as she watches with me, I hate the truth in her words. “She needs to process everything, we haven’t given her the chance and now this with Isabella, it’s a lot.”

“I know.”

Love. “Come here.”

I turn into her waiting arms, the overwhelming urge to cry hits me like a fucking freight train when her arms pull me close.

“She will be back, just be patient with her.”

“What if she realizes-”

“Nonsense, she’s hopelessly in love with you.”

I pull back to inspect her face, “What?”

She smiles at me in only the way a mother really can, “My son, trust me. Give her a few days, but she needs to know that love is returned.”

“How do you-”

“I’ve known since the day you first brought her home. I knew then she was yours before you ever figured out she was your singer, I’m a mom like that.” Winking at me, she pats my shoulder. “She makes you happier, lighter. It makes me happy to finally see that in you.”

Venomous tears make my vision swim, more often than not I take the fact that Esme mothers us in ways unique to every single one of us for granted.

Glancing down, I clear my throat like a typical male trying to avoid being emotional, “Thank you, Esme.”

“Dear, you never have to thank me, I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too.” I kiss her on the cheek, our talk having smoothed out my frayed nerves.

Time. I can give her time to think, to process everything that’s happened in the last week. But then she’s mine - she has to know how I feel about her. And if she wants nothing to do with me after that?

Well, I guess I’d give her that too.

But not until after I fight for her, because fighting for her is in my bones. Fighting is all I’ve ever known and it’s time I put it to good use.

Next

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[mellodramas]

if my younger sibling dreamed another sibling into existence for literally whatever reason, i probably would’ve killed myself in front of them to change the trajectory of their life forever (so really what i’m trying to say is i understand you declan i get it)

[ryujnn]

► akuma ﾟ｡ ⋆ is there any room for me?

► chapter summary ﾟ｡ ⋆ the past few days of your life we’re unexpected, yet so much fun. people seem to come a lot in your life… and also leave.

► chapter warnings ﾟ｡ ⋆ nsfw. growing sexual tension. cunnilingus (oral — fem receiving). violence. use of weapons. mentions of blood and wounds. mention of murder.

► note ﾟ｡ ⋆ woah… i realized how much potential this story had and just whipped this up and rereading the whole thing. i missed akuma dearly,,

Dear Mom,

Checking out on the party before it had even started — you’d be shocked with the most recent news. You’re missing out on the fun, you know? All the plans we set out are now in motion. And you’re missing it.

But I’m missing you much more.

So much more.

I have so many questions for you. So many I wished I had asked, but I spent that time crying next to your cooling body. Now I’m left questioning myself.

Mommy, am I strong?

Am I still the strongest?

Even if I don’t feel it?

“R…” You opened your mouth, all of the saliva completely dispersing and leaving you stuck with cotton. The smallest step forward and your husband was grabbing your arm, stopping you. You on the other hand was just too shocked to even care. “Rika? Wh… How’d you know where I lived?”

“I followed you.”

Weird. “Um…” You’re trying to mentally piece together how you were gonna crack this one. “How are you alive? I— They captured you, right? That’s what they said.”

“They didn’t catch me.” Her voice is silky and posh. She’s holding herself with such good demeanor, you wouldn’t be able to tell she struggled half her life. “The woman they captured and killed was not me, yet another one of your father’s previous affairs. She threatened to tell the rest of your family members about his adultery and she was hunted down around the time I fled. They just covered my story up with the poor woman who lost her life.”

That’s absolutely heartbreaking. Not necessarily surprising, though. Your family is sick and twisted.

The metaphorical armor wrapped around you dissolved into the air, brushing past the skin on people’s faces. You felt empathetic towards her now.

“I’m not here to hurt you.” She continues, wary of her surroundings. And your husband. “I’m still alive because of my appearance change. They can’t remember what I look like, at least I pray not. I — I returned this morning. Heard your father’s big fight is soon… he had his beloved batch of boys, huh?”

You shook your head slowly, “Nope. Ryou and I will be fighting.”

It was then when you had actually noticed Rika. She was absolutely alluring. The silence was definitely inviting for you to look at her — to examine her. She had her hair cut to her shoulders, a few strands covering her forehead and bringing attention to her doe eyes. The longer she stood there, it was like watching a child. As if she was caught staying up too late when her parents came home.

She wasn’t threatening at all.

“Oh… congratulations,” Rika responds with a small smile, picking nervously at her fingers. She’s clearly spewing thoughts but there’s no way she could get them out of her mouth. “I’m sure you’ve learned a lot from Himari. You will win and change the trajectory of the clan — I know you can. It’s pretty bad, I don’t want another woman to experience what I… we did.”

All that time she’d been standing in front of you, you had forgotten who Rika actually was. What she had been through — and once it all clicked, you couldn’t stop your feet from moving.

You weren’t staring at a threat, you were staring at a survivor.

Escaping the Shio clan, just the hospital alone at that, with a new born baby and taking care of her all on her own with no experience. Starting fresh with no money, nowhere to live and not knowing anyone — yet managing to be alive and well, with a daughter who is in perfect shape.

The power of women.

“I’m sorry.” Are the only words that left your mouth, kicking your heels off in the midst of your walk before stopping in front of Rika, raising your arms to her shoulders and resting on your chin on her bone. “My mother thought you were a trooper. She loved telling me stories about you. You’re like a folklore.”

She returns the hug, giving you a small squeeze. “Am I?” There’s a slight shake in her voice, but she quickly covered it up with a laugh. “I’d rather the attention be on my princess. She’s what kept me going.” She hasn’t hugged anyone other than her daughter, nor has anyone felt sympathetic enough to acknowledge what she had been through. All of this hits Rika like a truck and she’s fighting back the urge to scream up the past twenty something years.

“Thank you.” Rika whispers.

She knows her daughter is good hands — protected by many people now. She knows she’s protected, too. She’s happy now.

The door clicks as it closes, resting backwards against the wood. You sighed softly, bending down to place your heels next to the door, hearing the bathroom door in front of you open.

“How’d it go?” Gojo asks from inside the bathroom, tossing his towel out and onto the floor.

The towel lands slightly ahead of you, rolling your eyes and walking forward to grab it. “Went okay. We had some wine and talked for a bit, she got tired and I let her sleep in my room.”

“I would be too if I were her,” His voice grows closer, alerting you that he’d be in front of you once you stood up. “I mean, it’s weird, right? I wonder why she came back.”

After folding the towel, you held it to your chest and looked ahead of you. All the breath in your lungs halted, stopping you from answering his questions or even responding.

There Gojo Satoru stood — in almost all of his glory. You’d never seen him like this… this close up. The black muscle shirts he wore around the house definitely didn’t give him this much justice; you can see every ripple, scar and crease on his body and it’s absolutely fantasizing. Natural contour and highlight on his skin — you’re almost folding at the sight.

“Uh…” Your voice is a little shaky, you’re so caught up in trying to pretend you’re not warming up from seeing his bare chest. “Yeah. Me too. It’s… weird.”

Gojo looks up from his hands, catching the stutter and sudden shift in your demeanor. He’s got an eyebrow cocked in confusion until it drops and he’s smirking right down at you. This is cute. He’s never seen you like this and now he’s addicted to it.

Speechless, timid and borderline submissive.

“Got somethin’ on your chin there,” His abrupt words cause you to blink hard, forcing your eyes back up go his face. You’re hot — you’re sure that you’re visibly burning up as well. Gojo takes a step forward, causing you to shuffle in spot and he’s enjoying it. “It’s not polite to stare, you know that.”

You’re trying your damn hardest to think of something witty, but your brain isn’t working. If anything, it’s clouded, and you’re not sure what to say without stuttering.

“I just… I noticed some of those scars on your chest and I wanted t-to, uh… just look at them.”

Verrrry convincing.

“You can touch ‘em, sweetheart.”

And so you obliged, reluctantly. Hesitant movements until your bare palm was against your husband’s skin, raising and lowering the stroke to feel every inch of him. There’s a soft shudder under his breath, specifically whenever your fingers brush against newer marks.

All in all, it’s intimate. He’s biting back the urge to grab you by the shoulders and you’re not too far off from begging for it.

Plus, you’ve only got a week. Right?

“Mark your calendars, request time off, set a reminder, and grab your popcorn — watch the Shio Clan’s Generational fight next week, here in this very room.”

Did you want to die being a virgin? Getting married and completing staying celibate, never being able to tell stories to the Shio women up in… whatever heaven was real. They’d talk your head off and call you a disgrace for not trying something so… sexy.

You can just see it now…

(“We saw you down there, married to that hunk of man. Gojo Satoru, right? How was the sex? Oh.. you didn’t have sex? Kiss him at all? No?! What—”)

The thought of going out without at least knowing if he’s a good kisser is making the hair on your arms stand. Maybe it was the wine? You felt like some horny teenager from the movies you watched.

“Would you touch me like this?” You transitioned to dragging a finger down his chest, digging your nail gently over his belly button and following his happy trail.

Right above his boxers.

Gojo pulls his eyebrows together. Is he dreaming? Is his ears playing tricks on him because he’s been wishing to touch you — praying for a moment like this with you? It’s gotta be a dream.

“You want me to touch you?”

Without thinking twice, your hands reached to the zipper behind you. The noise of it unzipping completely catches Gojo’s attention.

Now it’s Gojo’s turn to goggle. He’s gazing at every inch of your body being exposed as the dress fell further and further, and all of a sudden — it’s harder for him to breathe in. Until the fabric pooled at your feet, he’s blinking a lot slower, not wanting to miss a single second.

Normally you’d be extremely self conscious, bare as a stripper for a man you just previously despised. But something about your husband drinking you in like a bottle on the rocks is making your stomach do flips.

And it’s cartwheeling down to your core.

“It’s…” You began, taking a small step forward. “Not polite to stare, Satoru.”

Your husband chuckles, though his voice sounds a bit lower. Even once his eyes raised from your figure to your very own irises, they were way more hooded than before. He’s drinking you up and not missing a damn drop.

One deep breath, Gojo takes the advantage to close the gap between you both. He leans down just slightly, hovering over your height. He’s looking at you like you’re vulnerable, like he’s got the upmost control of you. And at this moment… you swear he does.

The tension is cutting the air with a butcher knife, absolutely murdering it to the point you both don’t know how to breathe anymore. Basic human actions have become tantalizing and you’d both rather drink each other up.

“I can have this thing off in seconds,” Gojo hooks his finger under your bra, tugging you forward by just the slightest. Watching you trip forward, following his moves, even the bounce of your breasts almost had him rolling his eyes back. “Just need to hear you say it, pretty.”

You don’t realize how pathetic or how fast you nodded your head, practically pleading with your eyes, but once Gojo heard those four words leave your tainted lips, he couldn’t help but oblige.

“Please, take it off,” You whisper, batting your mascara coated eyelashes up to the man before you. “Take it all off.”

And what man would Gojo Satoru be if he didn’t keep his word, especially when you asked so politely. Within those last few seconds, your husband closes the gap between you both by pressing his lips against yours. It wasn’t rough, wasn’t forced or rushed — nothing like the kiss you both shared at your wedding.

It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, it was a welcoming kiss. He wasn’t kissing you as if this was your last week on earth, he kissed you as if this was the first day of the rest of your life.

It was intoxicating and addictive, something you never wanted to end.

Once you wrapped your arms around the nape of Gojo’s neck, he reaches down to grab the back of your thighs, lifting you up to his height. Your legs wrapped around his abdomen, securing you around him.

He’s got one hand propped under your ass, holding you up while his other closes the bathroom door behind him, locking it right after.

Whaaaats goin on?

Times moving faster now that you’re having fun, that’s always been something you noticed as a child. Even in this moment, when your husband has you sat on the marble of his bathroom’s countertop, popping your bra off with just one hand, exposing your perky nipples to the brisk air around you, time is moving fast.

His soft, pink lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking and gently tugging at it with the sloppiest and nastiest ‘pop!’ you’ve ever heard — time is moving fast.

Gojo settling onto his knees, two skilled and slender fingers pulling your panties down your thighs, your calves, and then unhooking them from your feet. He’s pushing your legs apart, visibly and audibly falling apart at the sight alone of your glistening, pretty pussy. He swears he saw the light shine off of just how wet you were.

“Fuck..” He whispers, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. “This okay? I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You nod,. You’d be damn to admit it, but something about this approval for consent was… sexy. As if he wants you as bad as you want him. Gojo’s asking you for permission.

“Please do something.” Being so bare and vulnerable, all for the man you hated just months ago, had your back arching in attempts to feel something. Anything.

Now you’re begging? Anything else and he might as well bust in his fresh pair of underwear. Gojo promises he’d be gentle… but all he wants to do is shove his face right between your legs and eat you out like it’s the last thing he’d ever do.

Like it’s the last thing he’d ever taste.

He starts slow, licking from your entrance to that little bud that has you twitching, giving it special attention with extra kisses and tugs from his lips. You’re moaning softly, weary of the guest that had been on the other side of the house — nonetheless — you wanted to prevent waking her up and facing your trenched reality.

Your head tilts back, pooring your posture with the slightest buck of your hips. The way your lips press together, fighting back all the noise that threatened to spill from them, it told your husband everything he needed to know.

He was making you feel good.

His tongue flicked at your sensitive bud faster, and his two skillful fingers plunged in and out of your soaking sex, causing wet noises to echo in the halls of Gojo’s bathroom. It sounded absolutely pornogrophic, something straight off the web. This is every man’s dream.

“Taste amazing, baby.” Gojo mumbles under you, tongue out and flat on your pussy. He’s curling his tongue ever so often, catching your eyes and simply grinning at that expression you have.

The look and the smile was just too much for you. He’s clear of the affect he has on you, he’s bathing in it.

Gojo’s forgotten to control himself and now he’s slurping and sucking, licking and lapping up everything you have to offer. Like he’s a dog. The warm feeling between your legs began to grow out to your thighs and your lower stomach, and the better it felt, the more you wanted to push your husband from between your legs.

Gojo doesn’t seem to let up soon. He’s blowing bubbles with his spit on your clit and using his tongue to spread it around. How slutty would it be to cum for the first time … ever … on your husbands face?

“Mmmf — Satoru…” It was a warning call. Your significantly smaller hand reached forward to grab at his soft, milky white and wet hair. The smallest tug got a noise out of him, snapping him out of his completely pussy drunken state of mind and back up to you. “Think ‘m…,” You chuckle breathlessly. “think I’m about to...”

He chuckles between your legs, pulling away for the slightest second and smiling his pearlies right up at you — with a wet smile. “Give it t’me,” Dipping his head between your legs again, aiming straight for your clit. “Make a fucking mess, sweetheart.”

And like the perfect wife that you are, or tend to be, you give his roots one more tug before using your other to grip beside you, mumbling out a string of praises to the God’s above you, before you, and even the one between your legs. Spasming with Gojo’s head between your legs, that warm feeling snapping out of your stomach and crashing over you like a category four hurricane.

Satoru assists you, rubbing your clit with the fat of his tongue all the while fucking his fingers in and out of you, bettering your high. Slowing his movements once your body began to come down; making it all more pleasurable for you.

There’s no way that just happened.

“Fuck…”

“Damn right.” Gojo chuckles, blowing soft air against your swollen and sensitive pussy. He used his thumb to clean his mouth, popping it in and licking the etcetera from the pad of his finger.

He’s up on his feet, still watching you recover from the only yet best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. Another quick laugh before he steps forward and cups your soft jaw into his hands.

“That feel good?” He asks, more out of curiosity rather than a boost to his ego.

It was nice seeing him like that. Domestic. Vulnerable. He’s always on his toes and doesn’t ever let anyone in — so this… this was nice.

All you do in return was nod and smile, tossing your arms over his shoulders once more and burying your head into his chest. “Mhm.”

“Let’s go shower then.”

“Up and atom!”

A bold voice, one that wasn’t your husbands, woke you up from your sleep. You stirred lightly, peeking one of your eyes open to not only see one person — but several people standing in your husband’s bedroom.

You remember falling asleep with Gojo resting on your back and your head under the pillow, and now that you’ve reached your arm to locate him; he’s not next to you anymore.

“Where…”

“Mornin’ angel.” There’s that familiar voice. That voice that’s given you comfort and a sense of safety.

Oddly enough, you were okay with it.

You huffed, pushing up from the bed to turn and identify whoever had been in this bedroom so early. It was half the damn school, you could say.

“Time to get up, Y/N!” Panda smiles, two fists sturdy on his hips. “We heard you have a week to experience some fun, so we’re gonna spend the next seven days together!”

Seven days?!

You jump up, completely facing the people in the room. Nanami and Gojo are in the corner, small smiles on their face — this is obviously something they planned… while the students were standing around your bed.

Megumi, Panda, Inumaki and Maki — even the two new students that’s working with Gojo; Itadori and Nobara.

You rub your eyes, brushing your hair behind your ears. “Thanks, guys, but you don’t have to waste a week on me.”

Maki gasp, Inumaki also adding a head shake at your response.

“We’re not wasting a week, Shio—sensei,” Megumi sits on the foot of the bed, sending you a soft look. “Everyone cares about you. We want to make sure you have a nice week.”

Nobara and Itadori share a look. They’ve never seen Megumi act so caring, even if he expressed it with a straight face.

You only had small interactions with Megumi, but considering he didn’t have much family left, everything you did within the span of knowing him meant a lot.

Even if it was bringing him lunch, scolding Gojo for him, helping him inside or outside of school. The small things built up and he can’t imagine seeing anything happen to you.

“Yeah,” Maki is trying to contain her excitement. She’s got her hands behind her back, fighting a smile. “Plus, we’re gonna incorporate fighting into the stuff we’re doing! Building muscles while creating memories.”

This is odd to you, foreign even. You’ve never had someone care about you, cared if you lived or died — and now these people want to give you a week to remember, encouraging you to spend your possibly last week alive wisely, with them, while having as much fun as possible.

You look over to Gojo, who’s got this smile on his face, one that hasn’t budged since he’s seen you wake up in his shirt; and then back to the kids. This is what it feels like to be wanted. Not just by your mother, but by everyone.

Now you’ve got to fight back tears. You haven’t cried since the death of your mother, and the overwhelming feeling of actively being appreciated by people is starting to jab at you.

No crying. Not yet.

You answered all the kids questions, settled all their anxiety and calmed their nerves with a smile. That bright, beaming smile that your mother loved and the one your husband is falling in love with. The smile everyone recognizes; the smile that pops into people’s head when your name is mentioned.

“Thank you guys,” You sit straight up on the bed. “I appreciate it. Let’s have the best week ever, okay?”

All the students smiled and nodded in unison.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Itadori smiles and throws a fist into the air, “Baseball!” He’s ecstatic, and you could make a wild guess that this was his idea. “That’s okay, right?”

You laugh, reinsuring Itadori once more. “I love baseball, and I’m kinda good at it,” You share a smile with the boy, hearing different reactions at the new information about the sport. “How about after, we come back and have a sleepover?”

That gets another rise. Everyone looks excited, partially for Megumi (he hates sleeping around Itadori) but aside from his little pout, the rest of the students agree to having a night over their teachers house.

Nanami pushes off the wall, clapping his hands together to gather the kids attention. “Okay, let’s give Shio some time to get ready. You all can help me load the bus back up.”

Following instructions, everyone except Gojo trotted out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Now it was silent and homey, resulting in your husband walking over to you with a small grin.

He crawls onto the end of the bed, sitting back on his legs in front of you. “Hi.” One word with his gentle smile and you’re grinning back.

“Hi.” You respond, reaching forward to grab his hands. You fiddled with them nervously, twirling his wedding ring around his finger. “Did you do all of this?”

“Not all. I told them your big fight was next week and they came up with all the ideas, I just found a way to make it all happen.”

You pushed your bottom lip out, climbing up from the duvet to his height, tossing your arms around his neck. This was a feeling Gojo could get used to, one he wanted to feel every moment and every second of his life. He wraps his arms around your waist and snuggles you back.

“Thank you, ‘Toru.”

He grins once more, giving your body a small squeeze. “Don’t thank me yet.”

A baseball game without your brother intervening? Sounds like a plan to you.

There were two separate teams; Your team and Gojo’s. A friendly fire between the couple who had an arranged marriage but is now starting to fall for one another — doesn’t sound scary at all.

You’d assume they’d take baseball seriously, like there was a grand prize at the end, but they weren’t. Everyone was having a good time, playing for experience and to grow, and thankfully there was no jujutsu power allowed.

The entirety of this game you’d been… laughing.

Smiling and laughing at the antics of the children you were working with. Giggling with the other teachers when Gojo grew red over the fact that his team was losing. Even moments like this where a fight needed to be broken up.

“Hold on!” Nobara shoves her hat onto the ground, pointing to the girl in front of her as she made her way over.

Nobara likes a fair game, what she didn’t like was Mai bringing a pitch machine to protect her fresh manicure. Itadori and Panda are the first to get up, walking over to catch Nobara before she gets to Mai. “Kugisaki’s snapped!” They warned. “It’s a free-for-all!”

Considering she was on your team, you followed behind the other students to calm the issue as the adult that you were.

“Alright,” You walk between both girls, facing Nobara to quickly calm her. “You’re a good batter. You can hit these even without machine, let’s just try it, okay?”

Nobara sends another threatening look to Mai before huffing and turning around to walk away. You chase after her, bending down to whisper one more thing into her ear.

“Bet she sucks anyway.” You cup your hands around your mouth so no one else hears what you said but Nobara.

And the game continued peacefully. The pitching machine was ditched after being beaten up by someone (Nobara ‘accidentally’ hit the ball into) and everything was now going fairly.

The energy overall felt like a highschool game, it was fun, quick and a bunch of dirty talk had been spit from one team to the other. Granted, it wasn’t anything harmful. Aside from another student getting swatted upside the head with a ball, the experience was great to you!

And once the sun began to set, everyone declared the game over.

All except one.

“Last bat,” Gojo walks up to you, flipping the bat so that the handle faced you. “I’ll pitch.”

You perused your lips, accepting the bat from him. You’ve never batted in front of anyone, only your mother, considering your brother would always swoop in and take the attention.

It was like you were a child again.

“Okay!” You smile, jumping up once before making your way over to the correct base.

“You got this, Shio-sensei!”

“Beat Gojo-sensei!”

You chuckled under your breath, spreading both legs and tapping the bat onto the home plate. Gojo sends you a look, asking if you’re ready, and you respond with a nod and the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.

The dim of the sky kissing your skin, the smile he’s seen all day is becoming a drug to him and as each second passed, he watched you grow more and more happy. More excited.

That’s until he raises his arm and leg, ready to pitch, and he see’s your face drop. A mix of fear, shock and confusion decorates your face and he no longer sees his happy wife, he doesn’t see a carefree woman bandaging her inner child anymore —

he sees twelve year old you.

He sees the child who’s spotlight got taken from her.

By her bastard of a brother.

Gojo drops the ball and quickly flips his infinity back on. He doesn’t turn around, he knows he’s safe, and he keeps his eyes on you and the students to assure your safety as well.

“Ryou.” Is all your husband says, crossing his arms over his chest. He won’t give him the satisfaction of a look, he’s got more important things on his mind right now.

Your brother laughs behind him, taking a small step beside him. He’s only got his eye on the prize; you. “Hey there, brother-in-law,” Ryou shoves his hands into his pockets. “Think I got her good, huh? Did’ya see her face? She went all…” He mimics your reaction, dramatically frowning and pretending to claw his eyes out.

“Who is that?” You hear one of the students whisper, and then you’re suddenly snapped back into reality.

You sniffle, wiping your sweaty palms on your jeans. You’d be stupid to turn your back, but your brother would be much more of an idiot to try to attack you when you’re not looking and your husband’s right beside him.

You turn to face the students, squatting down to catch their attention and block your brother from their view. “He’s not important, okay?” You ask, which they all nodded in return. “He’s a dangerous guy, so Gojo’s going to take you all back inside and then we can get home in time for the sleepover, right?”

You asked Rika to set up the sleepover and pick out some snacks for everyone. You even offered her to invite her daughter since she and the students were around the same age — that way if they decide to stay, she’d have a few friends.

Now, the only plan was to make it home.

Once you pushed up from your feet, you began to make way to your husband. What a fearful sight to see and an awful predicament to be in. You could be killed at any second if it was up to Ryou.

“Go.”

One word that held so much power. You stood just a few steps from your husband, you knew if you got too close that he’d be a superhero.

But this isn’t his battle to fight.

He doesn’t budge whatsoever, he looks at you like you’re playing a joke and even dazzles a smile at you, proving his point further.

He’s not going anywhere without you.

“I mean it, Satoru,” You couldn’t say too much, not without giving away too much information and endangering multiple lives. “Please… let me handle this.”

Now he’s reading you. Gojo frowns his eyebrows before beginning his path to the students. He stops besides you, making sure too keep his eyes on the kids in front of him while you kept track of your brother.

“You don’t die today.”

You couldn’t help but smile slowly, “Yes sir.”

The crucial next seconds of silence could’ve been your cause of death, but once the gate to the kids shut closed and you knew the people you loved and cared for were behind protection.

You didn’t hesitate.

You reached your arm back, looking over to the gate once more and starting a fire at it. It wasn’t too big that they couldn’t see, but it was big enough to risk a good third degree burn if they’d try to escape.

“Oo, where’d you learn that?”

Now your eyes are on your brothers, orbs battling for dominance. “Easy,” You’re stalling for the right moment, now starting to pace around your brother, keeping a large distance between you two. “But, I’m sure it comes naturally to you. You don’t even need to try, huh?”

Ryou chuckles. “You’ve gotten smarter too.” He’s starting to pick up on the pacing, and part of him is nervous. He’s never seen such a side from you, you’ve always been obedient, never one to pick a fight.

What was going on today?

Ryou meets you half way and bumps into you, ruining your pattern of a circle, grabbing your shirt to keep you still.

“What’s this?” He asks, practically snarling at you. That cocky, annoying smile never dropping from his lips. “Trying to show off for your husband and a few amateur sorcerers? You can do better.”

You’re way to nervous to physically harm this man, that could go left and you’d be injured before the big fight. Possibly killed. So you opt for your power, pushing a hand forward, manipulating the air around you to ball up and shove into his stomach, sending him tumbling.

You took a few steps back, enough space to look up and check the moon shining down at you. You’re not mentally ready to brawl with your brother. You’re not ready to die yet.

“Ryou…” You began. Instant regret.

He straightens himself back up before making his way over to you, a grin on his lips. “Shouldn’t have done that, cheeky.”

And before you know it, the same method is returned to you, except the pain is tripled and you’re being sent back flying, your back slamming against the gravel on the ground.

You could feel each piece of gravel, rock and grain of sand pierce your skin. The wind was knocked from your lungs to your head, blacking your vision for a second.

“Shio-Sensei!” You hear one of the students cry out.

Something about hearing someone call for you… strangely made you want to get back up. When your brothers around, no one roots for you. No one cares about you — or even notices you. Not when the Star of Africa is near.

But right now… at this moment… they’re rooting for you. Everyone behind that stray of fire, blocked by a gate, watching two siblings fight one another.

They’re calling for you. They’re supporting you.

“Shio-Sensei, please!”

The sound of cracking fire protecting those innocent kids — along with the calls for your name. You’re up. You’re on your feet. This adrenaline was perfect.

“That…” You began, brushing your hands on your clothes and cleaning yourself from the dust. “Was weak.”

Another boost: the face your brother makes when he’s bitched at for the first time. He realizes that no one’s on his side here… his daddy isn’t here to boost him either… he’s alone now.

He’s in your shoes.

“What did you say to me?” Ryou’s fuming, you can smell it. From the smoke coming out of his ears to the ground he’s shaking under him. Pure, firey, rage.

In return, all you can do is smile endearingly and stretch your arm out beside you, hands empty. “I said that was,” For a split second, you only had one chance to prove yourself. You ignored your consciousness and the energy around you. Within seconds, your mind flatlines and there’s a ringing in your ear for a millisecond.

For just a quick second, earth around you had disappeared.

Then reappeared.

After the quick moment of focus, you look over to your stretched out arm — and in your hand is a sword. Hah, take that Nanami. Manipulating space isn’t as hard as it sounds.

Not giving a moment for Ryou to blink, your swinging your armed hand towards your brother — tossing the sword over to catch in your other hand and switch positions before he could retaliate.

“Weak.” You finish, huffing a breath.

Your students are behind the cage jumping and clapping, watching their teacher in action — amazed at what they see. Your husband on the other hand is trembling in his shoes.

He could easily get past the fire, and his plan was to intervene when need be. He knows you can handle your own and defend yourself — but he also knows that you’re fighting off of rage right now, and your movements and thinking process is sloppy and clouded.

He doesn’t want to step in too late, but he also doesn’t want to jump to the rescue and portray you as weak.

Ryou on the other hand takes a small step back. His phone begins ringing in his basketball shorts, and he’s quick to grab the device and answer it.

And as he listens to the recipient speak, he looks down at his chest. He couldn’t ignore the oozing feeling in his chest. His skin grew hotter by the second, and the dust particles kissed his wounds as the wind blew them around.

One massive slash across his chest. The blade was so sharp that it cut past his clothes and skin, resulting in a pretty bad leak. He’s shocked with himself for missing such a lousy attack — more so, his sister was the one to do it.

No words were exchanged for the twelve second call. Ryou simply ends the call and returns his phone into his pocket. Raises his gaze from the gash to your eyes and lets out a chuckle. A bitter yet cocky laugh. As if he was still laughing at you.

“You know,” Your brother looks up to the sky, the waning gibbous shining above. “I think we’ll plan your funeral a little more organized than mom’s.”

Weak. It doesn’t really affect you, Ryou’s never been ‘momma’s boy’. More of a spoiled brat. The anger he wanted out of you wasn’t granted, it made you yawn. You just insulted your brother, twice, and gave him a remarkable wound on his chest… and he’s not fighting back.

He’s stalling.

“Not on your game today?” You’re focusing your energy into your arm, manipulating the air around you to forcefully stick your sword onto the ground. “It’s mediocre, everything you’re saying. How’s that gash, though?”

“I can barely feel it.” Ryou’s quick to respond, “Just thought you’d want to know. You’d have the best funeral out of the three, I’m sure of it.”

Three? You try your hardest not to visibly be confused, but your brother already see’s you doing the math in your head. One, your mother. Metaphorically, two would be you.

There wouldn’t be a third.

Maybe your brothers sick. He’s been talking out of the ass for the past few minuets and keeping up with him is slightly throwing you off your game. He’s absolutely stalling.

“Three? Can you even co—” Oh. “Count…” All of the green of envy and revenge on your face had melted, returning you back to your normal state. Afraid and scared.

“G—…” You’re stumbling backwards, still keeping an eye on your brother. “Gojo!!”

As soon as he saw your state change, he was itching to get across the gate. All he needed to hear was your voice. Your plea. In seconds he’s by your side, turning you to face him. You’re not afraid of Ryou sneaking up, you’re not afraid of anyone’s safety with your husband being here.

Except Rika.

“I need… we need to go home, now.” Your panicking, your hands have began trembling and the nerves in your body are shot.

Gojo’s looking at you, trying to read whatever you’re trying to get at, but he’s just as confused as you were earlier. Without even moving his head, your husband can just feel the devious smile on Ryou’s face. This is the reaction he wanted out of you, it’s what he wanted to see with his own eyes — live!

“What’s going on?” Gojo asks.

“…Rika.”

💭:  @96jnie  @creolequeen11210  @patchi-chi @chieeeeeee @shadowarchon @willowsversion  @regalillegal @rahhhhhrs @luckimoon @chuurroo @xiaosie @gh0stwish @ayatoru @zohraaa123 @dazailover1900 @catoru-gojo @justwinterlights  @lightblueexorcist t  @nakachuchu @96jnie @emissaire @vernasce-blogs @oi-loverboy oy @holeyahsama  @vynlover27 @mnoaeiu @ginger0322 2 @prettyroxy @softiebadbitch @planetmarz @sugurugetosbitch @reiners-milkbiddies @bebetiny @tojisprincess @coquettemaiden @lovemarvel16 @shuxjodie @sssatorus @chosos-mascara @purpleguk @jeneate101

[siriannatan]

I'll just drop this little thing here to motivate myself to carry on even if (and it might be a slight warning for the future) it has the potential to get possibly dark and rather suggestive if the current trajectory keeps up

[possible spoilers for future work of mine]

The castle was pretty dark from the sun slowly setting and the thickness of the ice enveloping the place. And cold enough for even fWhip to shiver slightly. Huddling himself tighter in his coat and scarf. He looked around raising the flame in his hand high. Something instantly caught his attention.

Feathers.

Snowy white feathers. Too big to be an owl's so had to be Scott's. And they led just one way from the door. With a smirk fWhip followed them.

With every step the cold intensified. Making fWhip pull his coat as close as he could, bundling himself in his wings. But he eventually made it to a closed - but not locked - door the feathers were leading to. Scott's throne room. Expecting ice flung at him at any moment fWhip pushed the door open. It made no sound.

No ice came his way but fWhip still froze. Not literally even it the throne room was the coldest room he's ever been in. His brain stopped as he stared at Scott.

The elven king was sat on the floor, facing his throne so he didn't yet realise he wasn't alone. And he wasn't like fWhip remembered. Scott fWhip remembered wasn't a dragon. Didn't have long covered in cyan scales tail with a tuft of white fluff at the end. Didn't have golden stag like horns. And his wings were covered in snowy white feathers ripping out which fWhip often fantasized about.

"Well, well, well, isn't this fascinating," fWhip mused to announce his presence.

Scott was up on his feet within seconds. Their draconic, slit-pupil eyes met for a second before Scott's knees gave up and he collapsed to the floor.

"Why are you here?" Scott asked, trying to get up. Likely to retain some dignity.

"If you didn't freeze yourself in your castle you'd know WRA declared war on Rivendell," fWhip chuckled, tilting his head. "And I'd say we won, seeing as I'm in your throne room," fWhip carried on chattering as he marched past Scott and to the throne. Once sat he looked down at Scott with bared fangs. "Now I just need to decide what to do with you," he mused. "I was planning on just killing you but with how you're now… you're too fascinating…" as he spoke Scott's eyes wend wider and wider.

"You…" Scott glared as ice invaded the throne room, creeping towards fWhip. "Don't you dare come any closer," he loudly protested as fWhip slowly stood up and walked up to him. Slowly, not taking his eyes off the elf for even a second.

"But you already lost the war, darling," fWhip mused as Scott awkwardly clambered back in a futile attempt to create distance. "So as the victor I get to pick what to do with you. And I decided to keep you," fWhip chuckled, crouching in front of stuck on his tail Scott. He was clearly used to having only wings. "So drop the ice around your dumb castle," he added coldly, grabbing one of Scott's horns. Harshly. Enjoying the way the elf winced.

Scott tried to struggle, to break free. But fWhip stayed still, his grip not faltering for even a second. He just stared at Scott with amused glint in his blue eyes. His grin ever present as he waited for the elf to tire himself out. He had to be exhausted already. From making the wall around the palace and turning into half-dragon. No matter how the second part happened, fWhip had no doubt it was exhausting. His own 'change' was exhausting and left him starving.

[thewickerking]

also like. As someone specifically who's been poor my entire life and homeless and currently being threatened with it again, who's lost family connections and money and opportunities for the crime of not being entirely white and relying on the systems people make fun of and never have to experience. Like. Mocking people (like myself!!!!) for struggling is gonna make me hate you. Haha homelessness. Okay do you know how traumatic it is? When you're fucking 2 years old? When you're 4? All the while being groomed by an adult man? Do you know whats its like to lose all your belongings because the cops fucking hate you and don't give them back? Do you know what its like to finally get a hotel or apartment for a month and have it be such a health hazard with mold and mushrooms growing bigger than your fist and more types of bugs than you count and having to toss out some of your few belongings because theyre infected and infested beyond repair? Haha school shootings. Cool do you know how terrifying it is to narrowly avoid the everpresent middle school gangs only for your younger sibling to be forced to be involved with a high school gang? Do you know what it's like when there's danger in getting an education and seeing the person you want to protect more than anything slip into that? It's not fucking funny when you get a text that your brother thinks he's gonna be fucking murdered after school and wants you to know that he loves you like youll never speak again? Haha dumb country bums. Okay what about when it's the people who are supposed to be your family and support and love you calling you racial slurs? What if you still kind of care about them? What about when there's fucking tornadoes near them and they live in trailers with zero support or basement or safety and they don't have access to anything else? Imagine seeing a news article about it and your heart sinking when they live near by and you don't talk much cause they're racist, but you don't even know if they're alive?? Haha Trump. Did you watch your mother break down crying on the phone, begging her father to not go back to Latin america because she was scared he would never come back? Do you look at news articles of deaths and search for your last name and hope it's not family? Have you been to detention camps? They don't let you go in but the outside paints a bleak picture, and youve studied pictures before. Its torture. Pictures of israeli camps look painfully similsr. You almost got lost on the way there because it's so isolated. They intentionally built it miles from bus stops. They don't warn people of their release and release them, offering no help or way to get even a ride to somewhere that's not long stretches of empty fields. Haha bad healthcare. Have you sat with your mother on hold for hours upon hours for services, just to be denied? Have you seen your mother fight insurance for months to not have to pay for her eight year olds psych ward stay cause he tried to kill himself? Have you seen her face that thousands of dollars bill and see her calculate if she would have to be homeless again? Have you had to cook for her cause she's struggling to stand? For years? Have you participated in studies so you have enough money for groceries that month? Have you cycled through over 10 therapists because they give the poor patients underpaid interns that quit within a year? Have you almost died at the hospital? Twice? And despite it all we give food and money to homeless people as often as we have it (not often). I've attended more protests than I can count. Protests, marches, rallies, even parades. We boycott despite not being able to afford the alternatives. There's so much I and so many other people do to fight and try to better things. But haha americans are dumb and one time someone was mean to me so I think you all deserve to die because your government hates you 🤗 ill kill myself in front of you to change the trajectory of your life forever, don't test me. I will do it. I'll buy a ticket to Europe just for that

[hadesisqueer]

They are trying to fuck Ruslana and Chiara over a lot this week. Ruslana has already seen what the show was doing and is not going to let them turn her into a pop girl as they wanted, and Chiara is of interest inside AND outside... I'm starting to guess what they want to do tomorrow, and so did they when they mentioned it the other day: that they thought they might end up nominated against the other this week. And I'll riot tbh I had enough with Violeta vs Denna and Chiara vs Violeta, if they do Chiara vs Ruslana I will end up going to Terrassa and kill myself in front of the judges and producers to change the trajectory of their lives (now, jokes apart, ffs I would be so done)

[aerisleis-fics]

For the WIP asks: you know I love a good soulmate AU :D I'm curious about Sefikura because that one's not usual for you!

<3 so! the sefikura soul mates au has been talked about (briefly) but I'm happy to chatter about it again bc its weirdly. Stuck in my brain even tho it ISNT my usual. idk how long it's going to take to materialize bc I dont know Exactly how I want to bring it to life.

The basis is very generically "love doesn't solve everything, actually" in the general vein of, it doesn't take back the fact that the two may hurt each other, and it doesn't heal the wounds. Love is work, etc.

(the original notes passage was

Love doesn’t conquer all, actually. like. as a concept. but my brain will not hand me wtf it wants to Do with that but like just. I love you more than I love myself etcetc but this doesn’t fix us, it doesn’t get us out of the mess we’re in and like to clarify not even entirely in the. in the. “must be a bad ending” kind of way but in the, it takes more than loving someone to make it work. and I could go on about like. loving someone being a Choice not a feeling. a choice made every day to keep trying to keep working, etc.)

On less broad-philosophical view it's a combo of pain-sharing and first words soulmates, where the first words said Directly to a person by their soul mate is written on them and also they share pain. I imagine it's not uncommon for people - especially SOLDIER and/or Turks - to hide their soulmark, and in fact their uniforms are perfect for it if you go for a standard on the arm or really in most places on the body!

Yes, this does mean Cloud's young life was a nightmare thank you for asking (joking). Cloud wanted to become a soldier to become a hero, but also to travel and meet people... he didn't put a lot of stock in his soulmate, though he gets relatively unique words on him ("have you ever tried ginger for it?") so he's sure he'll Know when the time comes.

Sephiroth, on the other hand, barely noticed his soulmates pains, so assumes His must be a civvie tucked away somewhere, and due to the incredibly generic statement figures he'll never find out who they are ("no sir"). This changes, sort of, when Cloud and Zack are in the helicopter crash, but he kind of assumes it's zack. (he can't remember the first thing Zack said to him, but it wouldn't have shocked him if it was a no sir of some kind, honestly.) He doesn't say anything. They're good friends, their lives are on the line every day, there's no reason for him to ask for more.

Cloud finds out on the transport to nibelheim that it's sephiroth. Cloud, entrenched in his inferiority complex and the fact that they're literally on a mission keeps it to himself.

The moment Sephiroth realizes he was wrong about who his soulmate is the moment he impales Cloud on masamune during the massacre.

Canon ensues anyway, it's too late for the trajectory to change, after all.

But post canon, after AC, after DoC, Sephiroth returns, again. The future is unwritten for them - but what can they possibly cultivate in fields that have been flooded with blood over and over?

Oh. And this snippet you can have it too

Tifa, very upset and frustrated along the lines of “you can’t possibly forgive him- you can’t possibly expect us to forgive him! He killed so many people! He killed my soul mate right in front of you!” And Cloud is just. so tired. Before that there was a line - I wish I’d made notes but I was literally in bed asldx;kfj anyway a line about “I’m not asking you to forgive him. I’m just saying. I’m tired. And he isn’t doing anything wrong.” But anyway he just kind of sighs and “And I did nothing to stop it. I know, I was there.” “This isn’t about that-” “Of course it is!” “....I mean maybe I’m a little worried he’s influencing you again-”

[crystalelemental]

When I was a kid first playing Final Fantasy 7 I remember distinctly not caring for the game overall. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, Cloud seemed like a complete loser, and I didn't take much to the setting or the cast. I did think Sephiroth was cool; I regret to inform you all I did that That Phase. But my stance on the game as a whole fell somewhere around whelmed.

As of today, I have finished replaying it for the first time in like...15 years? Longer? It has been a while. And being An Adult, I reflect on my own life and see the trajectory of Cloud's 16 year old self building up a sense of wanting to be really cool and pretending at things he's not, only to spend his early twenties going through the torture of sorting through that baggage to let go of what you thought was cool and embrace who you truly are to be...relatable. So with that in mind, the order of the day is: has my opinion on this game significantly changed? God, this is going to be so long...

The short answer is yes, but it's not near the top. I do think the game had a lot more to offer than I remembered it having, and I found myself actually connecting with the story a lot more than I previously had.

The biggest thing that really stands out to me is this thematic thread of glorification. Cloud says it early on, but you find a ton of other characters echoing the same: many young boys desperately wanted to be part of SOLDIER. It was a huge deal, and was considered a very cool thing to be able to do. Shinra promises glory in combat and this illustrious career path, which draws in aspiring youth from across the planet to enlist. Sephiroth is held up as their poster child; the baddest Soldier Man to ever exist. Everyone wants to be him, because he's the biggest, and that means he's the coolest. And if you enlist, maybe you can make it that far too.

But the truth of being in SOLDIER is far different, and the expectations of being a grunt soldier are far more muddied. Look at how often random soldiers are brought in for dirty jobs like killing Zach or trying to kidnap Aerith and Ifalna. Even the upper rungs aren't that illustrious, and Sephiroth's own legacy is certainly not something to aspire to. The reality doesn't align to the glorified promises.

This happens a lot, be it Barret's history of Shinra promising prosperity for the town (only to destroy it to cover up their error), or Cid's history of being promised space exploration (only for it to be pulled out at the first failure). Cloud's glorification is front and center, though, because that's what all hinges on Sephiroth.

The original Sephiroth, the one who burned Nibelheim, is just as wrapped up in the sense of glorification. The difference is that while others recognize the deceit and fall into despair, Sephiroth bends over backwards to make the lie true. When you first find the experiments that Hojo is carrying out, he comments that he "always believed I was special, but not like this." Sephiroth, too, has been fed this glorification that what he is and what he does is exceptional. Special. Above the rest. While he starts his breakdown here over the reveal that he may be another experiment, all that causes is for him to seek out the truth of what happened. And he, mistakenly, identifies in the history that his exceptionality? Must mean he is one of the Ancients. He must be part of this old race that fought against calamity, while the humans hid. He directs his anger toward them, and burns Nibelheim, intending to invoke a sense of vengeance to destroy them. And like everyone else who dies, Sephiroth dies here in a quick and unglorified manner, being thrown into the reactor core.

The Sephiroth we see throughout the game is not that original Sephiroth. He died. Instead, we're seeing more the will of Jenova at this point. Jenova is explained to be a virus that manipulates others. Ifalna described its initial appearance as "taking the appearance of dead relatives and loved ones," and this is explained at one point to be Jenova's central power, copying the appearance and words of others. And the presentation as Sephiroth makes good sense thematically.

For Cloud, Sephiroth is that idol to aspire to; the embodiment of that glorified soldier life. Cloud's own delusions about his past continue to thrive, in part, off of this. He remembers himself as a member of Soldier, first class even! He builds his entire identity on having made it. But it's not true. And because he hasn't confronted it, Sephiroth is able to control him at multiple points in time. In-universe, this is because Cloud is a (failed) Sephiroth clone, and thus has Jenova cells in him that make him vulnerable. Thematically, Cloud's inability to face the truth, and insistence that he was someone important, strong, and special, means he can be manipulated to do whatever someone else wants. It's giving up what he is, what he wants, for their promise of being special. Even though you were labeled a failure, you alone made it. And when that doesn't result in anything, when Hojo refuses to give him a number and Sephiroth refuses to really acknowledge him, he shuts down until he can find his purpose.

Sephiroth's manifestation also works for Shinra. He's the one that got away, and is a living testament to their lies. Shinra operates, at every turn, to cover up the truth. They hide the truth of what happened to Sector 7, they hide their error by destroying Barret's village, they recreate Nibelheim to outwardly imply the Sephiroth incident never happened, and they aim to execute the party and lay blame for Meteor at their feet. But Sephiroth's presence is enough to suggest it all as lies. So long as he is there causing problems, it becomes clear that Shinra has lied about something, even as small as just what the promise of Soldier is.

Outside of that major thematic aspect, there's another bit that I liked, though I feel this one gets away from it a bit. After the Golden Saucer date, if you choose to recap events, Aerith makes a comment that the Promised Land isn't any specific place, it's just something you feel. This mirrors a line early in the game from Barret, who responds to Cloud's "if the slums suck why doesn't everyone just move?" initially with the obvious "they can't afford to," but adds in "Or maybe people just love their land so much they're willing to stay no matter how bad it gets."

The Ancients were nomadic, and settled in wherever they felt best. The idea of the promised land as just...where you go to live your life, and where you feel most comfortable, is a fascinating one. I love the implications going on there regarding connection to the land, or connection to the people, or what have you. But it does ultimately get shoved aside for the Shinra focus on the north being rich in mako, and thus what they've been seeking the whole time.

There is a lot I enjoyed about it, and a lot I think stands out in a way that it didn't used to. The game's definitely a lot better than I remember. But, to give some credit to my past self, there's always a reason I don't take to things, and while part of that is not having the same life experience to really analyze it through this lens, part of it is more about problems.

This game kinda sucks to play. After playing through the Pixel Remasters, I do think I would safely say this is the least fun game to play of the seven. A big part of that is how, with the transition to 3D models, it wants to allow movement in 3D space, but it's still largely an up-down-left-right movement scheme when you break it down, leading to a lot of irritating movements. This is especially bad with how often movement matters in the constant shitty minigames.

Seriously, pacing feels like a massive problem. This game would be so streamlined and nice if it just dropped the intermittent games. No, I do not want to chocobo race. I do not want to do your dumb motorcycle chase scene. I do not want to snowboard. I do not want to etc etc etc. It's constant, and way worse in the early game. I've heard it said that the game feels very fast-paced and action driven in Midgar but falls out when you leave. I have the exact opposite impression. I feel like a ton of shit happens in Midgar for no reason, and once you finish the north and it lets off all the obnoxious minigame stuff, the game gets a lot better.

Empathy alone also does not endear Cloud to me. I think he's neat, but I don't really enjoy him as a protagonist the same way I do, say, Bartz. And the rest of the cast doesn't seriously grip me either? There are some I like (Tifa, Barret), some I don't (Cid), and some I find just kinda there (Vincent, Red XIII, Yuffie though I have some personal fondness for her), but no one stands out a huge "I love this one" character.

Which...makes things difficult, because there's not much of a group dynamic. My wife articulated this better, but some of the other games feel at times like what's lacking in strong individual characterization is made up for with interesting dynamics. Are the FF5 characters super developed? Not especially. They have an arc and are meaningfully changed during their journey, but there's not the same deep dive on character that you'd get from Cloud. What makes them all shine is how they interact, and that's something I think I can say feels lacking in this particular era of Final Fantasy with (the second half of) 6, 7, and from what I remember, 8. I do not remember 9 well enough. It's an issue, I think, born from having party member selection, but only having the immediate members in the party talk. Dialogue gets very generic, with maybe some voice based on who's speaking, but no substantial differences. You get this with major moments like confronting Kefka as well, where dialogue is kept fairly generic to minimize things feeling out of character. I think 7 has this worse than 6. If you weren't in Midgar, you're kind of ancillary no matter what you do. I think 10 and 12 had this figured out, and creating a smaller part that's always present in scenes allows for more organic and dynamic interactions, but that may be personal preference.

But then there's gameplay. FF7 is very, very simple. It offers, to me at least, very little as a system. Materia can do some stuff, but it's far from exciting, and a lot of the truly fun tools are missable. Because characters do not have unique skills (barring limits), they all feel very generic and uninteresting. I'd also argue the irritation of Materia often cutting HP and Atk, because no one other than Aerith really feels like a mage. Magic is almost never your best solution anyway. Getting the 2x Cut materia is sufficient to keep a powerhouse physical fighter on par with the Ultima spell, for god's sake. It just never felt like I had to do anything interesting to win a fight, and a lot of bosses felt like the only reason I didn't just shit-slap them with normal attacks and one (1) summon of a Bahamut form was because I had to steal something. Which was a pain. It's an unobtrusive combat system, but it lacks any real reason to swap around party members, and values hitting things with sticks over any kind of technical skill or magic.

I will give credit for the Materia mastery system. I think the idea of spells being something that is maximized on an item that can be effortlessly swapped between party members simplifies for the moments where you do need to bring a specific member that you may not have used. But those moments are fairly few and far between, and...I mean I'll be honest, even when Cid was in charge of the party, I never equipped him with anything and it was fine. The bigger issue of the system is one of AP and slots. All equipment has slots that determine how much Materia you can hold, and each has its own growth rate. The ideal you're supposed to chase is 3x AP for faster grinding, but I'll be honest, even with that it feels like way, way too long to master stuff. Not that mastery even seems to matter. But it is endlessly annoying to me that the ultimate weapons, which can be obtained pretty early on, have no growth rate. Like sure, limit your offensive potential so you can keep building up Materia values. That's not annoying. I guess I just have something against ultimate equipment being slapped with a negative effect that feels like it negates its entire purpose. At least Yuffie gets full power Morph out of the deal, but how relevant is that?

Oh, I should probably mention: I did not do the Golden Saucer. I considered going for Knights of the Round, or for Omnislash, but took one look at the cost of Omnislash and went "not wasting my time on that," then took a look at the breeding chart for chocobos and went "not worth my time." I never beat Ruby Weapon back in the day because I didn't know how, but now I will never beat Ruby Weapon because I refuse to put in that kind of time.

All in all, I did like the game. I think it had more going on that I gave it credit for, but it's lower on the totem pole as an actual gameplay experience. I'd probably place it above FF1, but not above 3 or 5. 4 and 6 are hard to judge, though. 4 is just a personal "I like it better than most," while 6 is an immaculately crafted "I never really vibed with it." I'd probably put 7 below both if I'm honest. I'd rather play 6, even if I find what 7 has to say narratively more interesting. 4 is just straight bias.

[stormyoceans]

There are rumors that The Trainee will tv in August. I want kms🤯 I can already feel the dry season approaching and I don't like it. but what are they going to show after Cherry Magic and Cooking Crash? Only 23.5 is expected, the rest is still in the process of filming. will everything be clogged with replays?

NOT TO BE DRAMATIC BUT IM ABOUT TO KILL MYSELF IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE GMMTV BOARD OF DIRECTORS AND CHANGE THE TRAJECTORY OF THEIR LIVES FOREVER LIKE FIRST THEY DECIDE TO GIVE THE FRIDAY SLOT TO A STARLYMPICS RERUN INSTEAD OF 23.5 AND NOW THEY'RE POSSIBLY GONNA AIR THE TRAINEE IN AUGUST??????????

JUST RELEASE YOUR DAMN SHOWS GMMTV PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IM BEGGING 😭😭😭

i honestly will never understand what kind of criteria they use to establish which shows should air when. i guess they didn't give 23.5 the friday slot because it's the best one and they thought the series wouldn't get enough views???? which only goes to show how disconnected they are from the fandom itself, i can't wait for them to get a nice wake up call when 23.5 gets millions of views every episode. i have no idea why would they postpone the trainee tho, like what's the point in filming it now and then release it 8 months later???? ✋😭

my best bet rn is that they're gonna air 23.5 after cooking crush ends and maybe my love mix up after cherry magic? and then maybe we are on friday after the starlympics rerun? i think those are the two shows that are currently further along in the filming process so it would make sense but at this point im giving up on trying to understand what the hell they are thinking ;;;;;;;

[ziracona]

Thinkin abt The Long Halloween film, (& spoilers for it), and remembered someone once complaining they made Gilda’s character bad in the film adaptation of The Long Halloween and a whole ‘she’s just evil because she can’t have kids anymore’ trope and like??? I have to kick in a door and say HUH??? What movie did you see?? Like the character is hella different from the comic yes, but 1, not necessarily in a bad way, a 2, that’s not her motive??? At all?? Like she’s not happy about that, but she’s not ever a ‘im inhuman now I can’t bear kids…’ The woman wants revenge because she experienced an insane trauma, and a betrayal, and the justice system is so broken that even as a lawyer herself, doing everything right, it left her empty and broken and abandoned too.

If anything, she’s just a strong foil for Harvey. She is never like ‘I can’t bear kids so now I must kill’— she’s like ‘I was in love and engaged to the man of my dreams and pregnant with our child, starting my career and family and unbelievably happy, and then his mafia father said ‘no’ to the union and child, and he just…abandoned me. For the family. I fought it, and he didn’t. He didn’t stay, he didn’t protect me, he didn’t love me. He didn’t even try. He let them cut my child out and kill it in front of me while I went kicking and screaming and fighting under the blade 8 months pregnant in a gang nonconsensual abortion, and left me literally hollowed out and alone to ‘recover’ from that, and nothing changed for anyone but me. I died that day, and no one faced ANY consequence. Not even guilt. I lost my ability to do my job, I lost my future, my hope, my ambition, my kid, my plans, my personality, my desire, my emotions, my being. I walked around as a shell. And when the justice system failed me, I found a lawyer who cared and was gunning for that mafia family, and married him, gave him more reason, but even he and Batman and the whole police force weren’t enough to stop them, so I decided to do it myself. I killed them, one holiday at a time, until everyone I wanted dead was fucking dead, and I got my justice.”

That’s an incredibly understandable, well done motive. What she did to Harvey specifically is fucked as hell, but she’s not a badly written lady. I love her comment about Harvey at the end that “We were so similar. Just. What was inside him hadn’t been ripped out yet.” Because she knows (and literally says) how broken and hollow what happened to her made her, and she can tell that what’s happened to him by the end of the story has done the same thing. She’s an incredibly cold and brutal character, but the bitch is well written.

​Like, she’s an excellent tragic film noir parallel for Harvey in the film. They go through almost the same trajectory. She is a hopeful young lawyer who believes in Justice who is betrayed and broken by the Roman’s people, and turns to extreme violence outside the system to get her justice when the ‘right way’ fails her. Harvey is literally the exact same thing, and scarred the exact same way, and changes to violence because of it. They both even say the very iconic ‘It had to be done’ close to the end of the film, in their last major scenes. Not echoing each other—neither hears the other. They just felt the same. The deep tragedy of the narrative is that in her search for justice, Gilda did to Harvey what was done to her—an utter betrayal and abandonment by beloved spouse. And he does not do to her what Alberto did. He takes the fall for her, even after the things she’s done, to him, because he loves her. The narrative repeats, the cycle of pain repeats, with the Roman at the heart of it, but with slight aberration because of the people involved this time. And if that ain’t film noir.

[fabaceous]

listening to a bunch of old dudes debate politics and free speech and religion and abortion in the coffee shop while i try to journal. thinking i might kill myself in front of them to forever change the trajectory of their lives

[commandermallozzi]

Twin Skeletons

"LOOK AT YOU, KEI! Half dead! Out of ammo! Spiked with every virus I could think of! Leah and Jack are dead, and Arash is in the wind! AND STILL MY CREW IS PISSING IN THEIR BOOTS AT THE THOUGHT OF FACING LO-REZ! I'M KILLING A LEGEND TONIGHT!"

This idiot is wrong about three things. One, I have three bullets left. Two, their damn viruses didn't even crack my ice. And third and most important, I'm not half dead. I am already dead. And soon they will be too.

I spit out my cig and roll my shoulders. Damn filter is full of blood at this point and I can't even taste the smoke any more.

"So that's how its gonna be, Ryuu? Well, I don't mind teaching you why I'm the fucking best. Hope you're ready, Wyvern."

They act predictably. Their gun rises, barrel covering my approach because they expect me to rush forward into melee. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to charge. My cracked heart is pumping me full of coolant. I can feel my meat failing as the poison spreads, and my vision in my right eye is going dim. My chrome will carry the day, but I need to get closer to make sure I hit.

Warning lights bloom into life in the corner of my vision as I let my left leg collapse, weaving to the side to dodge a hail of flechette. I feel one catch my side as I close the distance between myself and Ryu. I compensate for the change in my trajectory as I catch the ground with my right foot and throw myself forward. The bastard in front of me starts to dodge back out of range of my fist. My arm swings up, bringing my pistol in line with their chest.

At the last possible second, the bastard narrows their eyes and dodges backwards out of the line of fire. My pistol spits fire into the inky blackness of the office, blasting a huge chunk of concrete out of the wall ahead of me and drawing a line of blood across my enemy’s chest. Fear, rage, and confusion are writ large across Ryu’s face. But that’s alright. I never expected to kill with my first shot. I just wanted to drive a spike deep into the bastard’s confidence, make them scared. Because it's in that crack that I’ll find victory.

They take a skip back, trying to create enough distance to bring their gun to bear on me again. But 

I stick to them like stink on shit. My heartbeat, once thunderous in my ears, begins to fade as the last of the coolant and oil slurry pour into my veins. But still I press on. Forcing Ryu further and further back towards the corner, unrelenting. In desperation they tear the silencer off the barrel of their gun, frantically grasping for any way to stop my assault.

They let loose a burst, catching my left shoulder this time. But that arm is already dead. All they do is give me the boost I need to press my pistol against their stomach. With their back to the corner, they look down at me. Stunned? I’m not sure. Time seems to stretch into nothingness for a split second, then I put two rounds into their gut and collapse to the floor. They slump down to the ground as well, leaving a smear of blood along the wall.

“Hah. Hah hah,” Is the most of the laugh I can give as the last of the light fades from my right eye. My left eye stares at them as they clutch their stomach and read their diagnostic reports. I don’t need to see them to know they’ll bleed out in under five minutes. No amount of nanites could fix the two holes I just put in them.

“What’re you laughing about?” They snarl. “My crew will rescue me once they find Leah, and I’ll get patched up.”

I snort. It hurts. “Your crew killed Leah first. Jack killed all of them, one way or another. No one is coming for either of us. SeaVan is losing two legends tonight.”

They stare at me, all bravado drained from their face. Giving me that lost expression that I thought was so cute. “Fuck.” Is all they say in the end before pulling out a pack of smokes.

I watch them for a moment before asking the question that’s been on my mind since this whole thing started three days ago. “Why, Ryu?”

They pause, smoke gently curling towards the ceiling from between their lips. “Because you sold us out to MitsuKawa on that last job.”

“That would be reasonable, if I had done that.” I retort quietly. “That run was just bad luck on your part, Ryu. I’d never sell out someone I love.”

There’s another pause. This time it's longer as they study my face. “Shit. Then all of this was for nothing? It was absolutely pointless?” They tip over onto the floor so their face is next to mine. Their blood runs across the floor, finally mingling and mixing with mine. “Oh Kei. I’m a fucking moron.”

“Yes, yes you are Ryu. Gimme a cig and a light.” I open my mouth, and they oblige. Putting one of their precious organic cigarettes between my lips, and pressing the tip of their already lit one against mine. I inhale, and the sweet smoke fills my lungs. “These taste like shit, as usual.”

I can’t hear their retort, but I see their mouth moving to make one. This is it then.

I close my eyes.

It all goes dark.

And I drift away.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii! Here’s part two of my Katniss and Peeta Taking Of Each Other bookcomb! It’s pretty long so … sorry 😬. There was a lot I didn’t include and a lot I wasn’t sure about including, because so much of Catching Fire and Mockingjay is about them wanting to protect the other but I tried to narrow it down to actual acts that were caring, or times they at least tried to care for the other.

-

Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips — he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg — and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way.

-

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building. The Peacekeepers follow a pace or two behind us.

-

Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment.

-

“He was poaching. What business is it of hers, anyway?” says the man.

“He’s her cousin.” Peeta’s got my other arm now, but gently. “And she’s my fiancée. So if you want to get to him, expect to go through both of us.”

-

When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily.

“Oh, I banged up my left foot. The heel. And my tailbone’s had a bad day, too.” He helps me over to one of the rockers and I lower myself onto the padded cushion.

My mother eases off my boots. “What happened?”

“I slipped and fell,” I say. Four pairs of eyes look at me with disbelief. “On some ice.” But we all know the house must be bugged and it’s not safe to talk openly. Not here, not now.

-

My mother gives me a cup of chamomile tea with a dose of sleep syrup, and my eyelids begin to droop immediately. She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there.

-

Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his. “Almost thought you’d changed your mind today. When you were late for dinner.”

I’m foggy but I can guess what he means. With the fence going on and me showing up late and the Peacekeepers waiting, he thought I’d made a run for it, maybe with Gale.

“No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today.

-

Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television.

-

Effie, shining in a wig of metallic gold, lacks her usual verve. She has to claw around the girls’ reaping ball for quite a while to snag the one piece of paper that everyone already knows has my name on it. Then she catches Haymitch’s name. He barely has time to shoot me an unhappy look before Peeta has volunteered to take his place.

-

“Why would he paint a picture of me, Effie?” I ask, somehow annoyed.

“To show he’s going to do everything he can to defend you. That’s what everyone in the Capitol’s expecting, anyway. Didn’t he volunteer to go in with you?” Effie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

-

I lock my fingers tightly into his and say, “Watch my feet. Just try to step where I step.” It helps. We seem to move a little faster, but never enough to afford a rest, and the mist continues to lap at our heels.

-

Peeta and Finnick and I position ourselves in a triangle, a few yards apart, our backs to one another. My heart sinks as my fingers draw back my last arrow. Then I remember Peeta has a sheath, too. And he’s not shooting, he’s hacking away with that knife. My own knife is out now, but the monkeys are quicker, can spring in and out so fast you can barely react.

“Peeta!” I shout. “Your arrows!”

Peeta turns to see my predicament and is sliding off his sheath when it happens. A monkey lunges out of a tree for his chest. I have no arrow, no way to shoot. I can hear the thud of Finnick’s trident finding another mark and know his weapon is occupied. Peeta’s knife arm is disabled as he tries to remove the sheath. I throw my knife at the oncoming mutt but the creature somersaults, evading the blade, and stays on its trajectory.

Weaponless, defenseless, I do the only thing I can think of. I run for Peeta, to knock him to the ground, to protect his body with mine, even though I know I won’t make it in time.

-

While I help Peeta coat his skin with the ointment, Finnick deftly cleans the meat from the shellfish.

-

I stretch out, pressing my hot cheek on the grass mat, staring at the thing in aggravation. Peeta rubs a tense spot between my shoulders and I let myself relax a little.

-

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.

“It’s all right, Katniss,” he whispers.

-

“Katniss!” I hear his voice though he’s a far distance away. But what is he doing? Peeta must have figured out that everyone is hunting us by now. “Katniss!”

I can’t protect him. I can’t move fast or far and my shooting abilities are questionable at best. I do the one thing I can to draw the attackers away from him and over to me. “Peeta!” I scream out. “Peeta! I’m here! Peeta!” Yes, I will draw them in, any in my vicinity, away from Peeta and over to me and the lightning tree that will soon be a weapon in and of itself. “I’m here! I’m here!” He won’t make it. Not with that leg in the night. He will never make it in time. “Peeta!”

-

I’m rattled by the turn in the conversation. The implications that I could so readily dispose of Peeta, that I’m in love with Gale, that the whole thing has been an act. My cheeks begin to burn. The very notion that I’m devoting any thought to who I want presented as my lover, given our current circumstances, is demeaning. I let my anger propel me into my greatest demand. “When the war is over, if we’ve won, Peeta will be pardoned.”

-

At the mention of my name, Peeta’s face contorts in effort. “Katniss . . . how do you think this will end? What will be left? No one is safe. Not in the Capitol. Not in the districts. And you . . . in Thirteen . . .” He inhales sharply, as if fighting for air; his eyes look insane. “Dead by morning!”

Off camera, Snow orders, “End it!” Beetee throws the whole thing into chaos by flashing a still shot of me standing in front of the hospital at three-second intervals. But between the images, we are privy to the real-life action being played out on the set. Peeta’s attempt to continue speaking. The camera knocked down to record the white tiled floor. The scuffle of boots. The impact of the blow that’s inseparable from Peeta’s cry of pain.

And his blood as it splatters the tiles.

-

I poke around in the pile, about to settle on some cod chowder, when Peeta holds out a can to me. “Here.” I take it, not knowing what to expect. The label reads LAMB STEW.

I press my lips together at the memories of rain dripping through stones, my inept attempts at flirting, and the aroma of my favorite Capitol dish in the chilly air. So some part of it must still be in his head, too. How happy, how hungry, how close we were when that picnic basket arrived outside our cave.

-

In the fluorescent light, the circles under his eyes look like bruises. “There’s still time. You should sleep.” Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.

“You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real,” he whispers.

“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation. “Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other.” After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.

-

“Katniss!” He whips his head toward me but doesn’t seem to notice my bow, the waiting arrow. “Katniss! Get out of here!”

I hesitate. His voice is alarmed, but not insane. “Why? What’s making that sound?”

“I don’t know. Only that it has to kill you,” says Peeta. “Run! Get out! Go!”

-

It’s a long shot, it’s suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. “Don’t let him take you from me.”

Peeta’s panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. “No. I don’t want to . . .”

I clench his hands to the point of pain. “Stay with me.”

His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. “Always,” he murmurs.

I help Peeta up and address Pollux.

-

While Cressida and Pollux make fur nests for each of us, I attend to Peeta’s wrists. Gently rinsing away the blood, putting on an antiseptic, and bandaging them beneath the cuffs.

-

By the time I make it back to the fence, I’m so sick and dizzy, Thom has to give me a ride home in the dead people’s cart. Help me to the sofa in the living room, where I watch the dust motes spin in the thin shafts of afternoon light.

My head snaps around at the hiss, but it takes awhile to believe he’s real. How could he have gotten here? I take in the claw marks from some wild animal, the back paw he holds slightly above the ground, the prominent bones in his face. He’s come on foot, then, all the way from 13. Maybe they kicked him out or maybe he just couldn’t stand it there without her, so he came looking.

[…]

Out of nowhere, the tears begin to pour down my cheeks. “She’s dead.” I clutch my middle to dull the pain. Sink down on my heels, rocking the pillow, crying. “She’s dead, you stupid cat. She’s dead.” A new sound, part crying, part singing, comes out of my body, giving voice to my despair. Buttercup begins to wail as well. No matter what I do, he won’t go. He circles me, just out of reach, as wave after wave of sobs racks my body, until eventually I fall unconscious. But he must understand. He must know that the unthinkable has happened and to survive will require previously unthinkable acts. Because hours later, when I come to in my bed, he’s there in the moonlight. Crouched beside me, yellow eyes alert, guarding me from the night.

-

Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, shows up with Greasy Sae. She makes us breakfast and I feed all my bacon to Buttercup.

-

I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway.

-

Peeta says it will be okay. We have each other. And the book. We can make them understand in a way that will make them braver.

-

[softluci]

talking to myself

[to begin, i wanna give a TW for mentions of m/rder, as well as s/icide and s/icidal jokes and thoughts; i know that i personally make a lot of jokes like these and so do a lot of my friends and people in general, but i also know that this can be really triggering for a lot of people, so if you are one of those people, this is not the post for you. take care of yourselves.] 

i’m, like, 100% sure that this is something associated with younger people, but in case it isn’t, i’ll just talk about myself. so, i talk to myself a lot. like, a lot. even more than i used to now that i’m alone a lot of the time. and the things that i say (and my friends also say), while they have no basis in reality, they are thoroughly unhinged. and i know that. but! i also find it incredibly funny and i wanted to do a set of headcanons for an mc who talks to themselves like that. some examples of things i say, some of which are things i picked up from my friends, include: 

“you’re sick” (/neg) “this is deranged” “the derangement” “i am insane” “i can’t take it anymore” [sobbing] “this is getting annoying, i need a fucking gun.” “i’m gonna kill myself and ruin everyone’s day.” “and it’s like, why, you know?”  “i’m gonna start killing people” “oh my god, i’m totally buggin” “get the FUCK—” “every day, i am provoked to rage” [unprovoked, uncontrollable laughter] “this reality...it wants me to be a murderer.” “i will kill.” “i don’t wanna” “it’s an illness that you have” “i would kill myself in front of you and permanently alter the trajectory of your life.” “it is time for the immense power of violence.” “don’t make me get violent~” “okay so just die then.” “i’m gonna rip you apart with my teeth.” “i’ll just die, that’s fine.”  and so on, and so forth. 

this is kinda long, but whatever, mc is gn, let’s have fun.

lucifer 

lucifer liked to think that he’d gotten used to you and your tendency to speak with little to no thought. he didn’t love this about you, but he certainly learned to expect it as the days went by. what he didn’t know, however, was that you talked to yourself. his guess was that you’d been refraining from doing so around him, as there was literally no other explanation for what had just happened to his state of being.

he was on his way to the kitchen, just to get some coffee before heading back to his office, when he heard something hit the floor. it didn’t sound like anything broke, so he wasn’t too concerned, but, nevertheless, he quickened his pace. 

he was not prepared for what you said, nor the venom you said it with, as he heard—

“this reality...it wants me to be a murderer, an instrument of evil...fine.”

you definitely weren’t expecting him to approach you as quickly as he did and grab your chin the way he did, but he was making sure you weren’t possessed. upon finding out that, no, you weren’t possessed, you’d just dropped a spoon, he took about seventeen points of psychic damage. 

mc, he is old and tired and he’s not used to this new flavor of humans who like to say the most deranged things they can think of whenever they’re slightly inconvenienced. you are shaving decades off of his life. he can’t tell you to refrain from doing that because you have been, so he is going to take it upon himself to try and make your life easier whenever he can. hopefully it’ll work, and you won’t be moved to unhinge yourself from your sanity the next time you make a small mistake. 

mammon

mammon is around you often enough to know that you talk to yourself every now and again. nothing too out of the ordinary, maybe some comments about the homework you were working on or whatever you were doing on your d.d.d. he was also around you often enough to know that the things you said weren’t always well thought-out, or thought-out at all. he wasn’t judging, he had no place to, he knew that, but—you know, he can’t say he was prepared for this. 

he was on his way to your room, as per usual, when, as he got to your doorway, you were overcome by something vile and you said, “i will kill.”

he has never burst into your room faster. he’s in your face, he’s yelling, his hands are on your shoulders, he’s this close to thrashing you around in hopes that whatever evil crawled inside of you while he wasn’t looking will come flying out—

what...did you say? you made a mistake on your homework? you made a mistake on your homework and your next course of action was to make anyone in a 300 foot radius think you’re possessed? you’re more boneheaded than he thought, and you should feel ashamed at this moment because this is the resident bonehead speaking. moving on, though. 

how can he make you into a happier person overall so that this doesn’t happen? if you don’t know, he’ll just attach himself to your hip so he can find out. congratulations, he’s never leaving you alone.

levi

levi is no stranger to saying things he doesn’t mean in moments of stress—this is just what happens when a person spends a lot of time playing games online. he’s said some pretty off-color things during matches, strings of curses, and the like, but he has never said, nor heard anything like what just left your mouth.

“i’m gonna start killing people.”

at first, he didn’t really react, giving you a quick glance and asking, “in the game, right?”

upon being met with silence, he looked to see you gripping your controller too tightly to actually use it, and asked again, “in the game, right?”

you blinked, apparently freed from whatever rage induced trance you slipped into, and turned towards him, “did you say something?”

he blinked at you once, twice, like the gears in his head were turning, and then—hysteria. 

he has you pinned to the floor with your wrists above your head, horns protruding from his scalp, and he is screaming—who are you, what have you done with mc, tell him your name before he summons lotan, leave his friend alone, and so on and so forth. he was interrogating you before you could even process the situation enough to feel fear. 

once he got over the bulk of his panic, he heard you screaming back at him, telling him it was you, you weren’t possessed, just talking to yourself, and let go of your wrists before he breaks them—he understood, kind of. he has no idea why you’d choose a phrase like that for when you’re annoyed, but at least you weren’t possessed! his henry was safe after all ^_^

he was so relieved that it took him a few seconds to realize he was still…pinning you down…and straddling you…so, naturally, more hysteria.

satan 

he’d actually grown fond of you and your tendency to speak with no thought or regard for the consequences of your actions—mainly because it stressed lucifer out, but he was fond of it nonetheless. it made you all the more interesting, more fun to talk to, and it helped him read you better. he liked to pick you apart by way of conversation, and he liked to do it as often as possible. 

presently, he was on his way to the library to meet you. the two of you were set to talk about a series you decided to read together. as he approached the doorway, he heard your voice, but no one else’s. he smiled in place of a laugh. were you talking to yourself? how cute—

“every day...i am provoked to rage unimaginable. why?” 

before you could even finish exhaling, he was above you, holding your face in his hands. from the glow of his eyes, you could tell he was barely keeping it together, but you had no idea what was wrong. did he hear what you said?

he said your name carefully, swiping his thumbs under your eyes. “have we been spending too much time together?” 

he was rubbing off on you, in the worst possible way. how could he have allowed this to happen? what has he done to you? where did this anger of yours come from? it has to be because of him. it would hurt, but he would distance himself from you at once, if that’s what—

“ah, did you hear what i said? i talk to myself like this all the time, satan, i’ve been doing it since before we even met. sorry if i frightened you.” 

he blinked, hands dropping to your shoulders. he was relieved, but so, so confused. 

“well,” he started, “then let’s talk about that instead.” 

asmo 

if you’d been refraining from talking to yourself around lucifer, you definitely did it for asmo too. there was no one in this house who wanted to see you angry less than he did. anger was such an ugly emotion, wasn’t it? he much preferred sadness; it was easier to manage, both in himself and others. 

of course, he could never think about being angry or sad when he was with you! how could he, when he’s with one of his favorite people? presently, he was on his way to your room to pick you up for one of your weekly outings. oh, you left the door open for him and everything! he was about to call out to you, but then he heard you talking to someone—he had no idea who it possibly could’ve been because he had no idea you could even sound like that when speaking to a sentient being. 

“i will rip you apart with my fucking teeth.” 

he had his arms around you before you even knew he was in your room. it seemed like a hug, and in a way, it was! the intent was to keep you in place so you couldn’t run away, rather than to comfort you, but it’s not like you could tell; his arms were around you all the time anyway.

“mc, light of my life, apple of my eye, who are you talking to?”

you twisted in his hold to face him, “i talk to myself all the time, asmo, you can ask anyone.”

he hummed, staring at you for a while before changing his hold on you into an actual hug. 

“you had me worried for a minute, darling~”

he didn’t really believe you, but he figured he would know if you were lying, and he could definitely handle whatever vile thing wormed its way into you while nobody was looking. best case scenario, he really didn’t have anything to worry about, and worst case scenario, you started speaking in tongues in the middle of majolish. if the latter happened to occur, he was strong enough to purge a lower demon from your body. it might hurt a lot a little , but at least you’d be safe!

beel 

for the most part, beel didn’t feel any particular way about your inclination to say words with no thought behind them. it was just something you did, like anything else was; he accepted it the same way he accepted everything else about you because that’s what friends do for each other. however—he would be lying if he said you didn’t upset him at times. 

like today—he was set to do his homework with you, on his way to the living room with an armful of snacks, when he heard something like the tip of a pencil breaking. it didn’t bother him, but it seemed to bother you. a lot. 

“i—i’ve had it, i’m gonna kill myself and ruin everyone’s goddamn day.” 

all of his snacks scattered across the floor when he dropped them to get to you. his hands were on your shoulders, but he wasn’t grabbing you. fortunately (or, unfortunately), belphie did this around him all the time, so he knew what to do, albeit it wasn’t much. 

slowly, he pulled you into a hug. not a crushing one, but enough to keep you from going anywhere. 

you started to explain yourself, telling him you do this all the time, that you didn’t mean it, that you were fine. it did nothing to reassure him because those were all of belphie’s usual phrases, but he appreciated the sentiment. 

“i know,” he started, pulling away from you. “i’m just making sure you don’t go anywhere. i like having you around. that’s all.”

belphie 

alright, this house isn’t big enough for the two of you. he is the vocally unwell person around these parts, he is the one who everyone is concerned about at all times, thank you very much. he was the one who made the jokes about death. he was the one with the concerning one-liners. that was all him. he wasn’t proud of it, he didn’t like the fact that things were this way, but it was what it was. he didn’t want you to be like him, and yet, there you were doing exactly that—even if you didn’t know. 

he was in your room, in your bed, actually— unbeknownst to you—because he was having trouble sleeping. you were somewhere in the house, on your way there, and once you arrived, it seemed like you were stressed. he didn’t know for sure, but he had a hunch that something was just eating away at you because as soon as you came in the door, you threw your bag on the ground and said—

well, you didn’t say anything, at first. the first thing you did was laugh. it was unrestrained, loud, and completely void of joy. and then, you said, “i can’t—i can’t fucking do this, i’ll just die, that’s fine, that’s okay.” 

he sat up faster than he has in the last century, deciding to be merciful and overlook how hard you gasped when you saw he was there. 

“belphie? why are you in my room?” 

he stood up, approaching you at a snail’s pace, “i couldn’t sleep, i was waiting for you, next question—why did you say what you just said?” 

before you could even start your usual explanation—you do this all the time, it’s fine, you’re fine—he was speaking again. 

“and don’t—don’t even try that, ‘it’s fine, ask anyone,’ shit with me, that’s my go-to, so you’re gonna have to come up with something new.” 

he looked at you expectantly, reaching behind you to close the door, locking it soon after. 

“belphie—”

he pulled you to your bed, falling onto it with you and holding you in place. 

“i have been doing this for much longer than you, and i will be doing it for a long time after you. i’d like to postpone the latter for as long as possible, so i would appreciate it if you talked to me.”