#yes I realize I forgot to shade some parts

[firecurls-27]

This took me 3 days-

Lilith

Bonus:

[tojjist]

“At Least” S. Gojo

☆ genre: angst to fluff (kinda)

☆ pairings: Gojo Satoru x f! reader

☆ summary: After Geto left, nothing has been the same. Especially not your relationship with Gojo Satoru. Once you decide to move to Kyoto for good, Gojo is less than pleased. But fate does not seem to want to let you go.

☆ cw: mentions of sex, depressed gojo, not spoiler free, hopping between timelines but like i added non-canon events, smoking, drinking, getting drunk, high school Gojo being a high school boy, cussing, mentions of drunk sex but it doesn’t happen, mentions character death (from the anime), gojo satoru (yes that's a trigger warning).

☆ wc : 5.6k

☆ a/n: this has been in the doing for so long? I've been waiting to have the chance to upload it for maybe a year now smh. Also was originally written for an irl of mine lmao

“Oh my god,” you emphasize each word, pushing the wooden chair away with your knee. “Satoru, is it yours?”

His black pupils, lined with iris the color of morning skies, study your figure from behind the shaded glasses, pink lips quirking slightly upwards in approval of your attention.

“Nah, it's only staying with me for a week,” he stated, watching nervously as you strode over to him. “His owner is away for some business.”

Your attention remained fixed on the pet in Satoru's long, long arms. Your face lit up when a bark escaped the infant animal. “Can I hold it?”

Satoru watched over you carefully, pleading eyes coming in line with his blues. You make it hard to say anything other than an immediate yes, but he tries to stretch out the conversation to his best ability.

“It's 400 yen for 10 minutes,” he muttered, sarcasm dripping from his words. He earned a look of amusement from you; a small victory. He then braced himself for the next part. Satoru bent down, meeting you eye-to-eye, and noticed your breath catching in anticipation. “Or... you can shorten your skirt.”

Your face took no time to grow hot, not giving any verbal answer besides the blank expression you stare at him with. For a second, Gojo let himself think he's the victor of this little challenge he started in his head. But he soon came to realize how grave of a mistake he's made.

You're not flustered, you're angry.

“You're such a fucking pervert,” you fume, eyes glaring daggers. He dares not move, noticing the way your eyes flutter over his face.

“You're truly unbelievable,” the shorter male chuckled, making sure he didn't bump into Satoru's now-bruised arm. “What were you even thinking?”

“I thought it was funny, y'know?” He huffed in response. Gojo's fingers ran through his own bright locks as he took a seat on the wood hung up by metal chains. "Besides, has she always been this strong? Physically, I mean."

Geto stared into the reddish sky of dusk, placing himself into a swing in turn and kicking the air so the swing would start moving. "I don't know. Girls are really full of surprises.”

He never thought, not in a million years, things would come to this. Ever since Gojo's last encounter with Geto after he, well, changed... Gojo became unable to face anyone quite the same way he did before.

How did he get here? How did things escalate to this? Thinking about it, Geto had shown signs of a change in his heart and mind. It was Satoru's fault, was it not? He should have done better. He should have noticed. How could he not have? wasn't he the strongest? Wasn't that his job? How could he be so bad at everything?

How could he fail everyone like this?

“Gojo-San?”

Your feminine voice cut his train of thought. He almost forgot the situation he is now stuck in. He's been doing that a lot: losing himself in thought, mind almost immune to the outer world until he temporarily lost his sense of self. Nothing felt quite the same any more. It was like the world had lost its color.

“Sorry- What's up?” He turned to you. Gojo-san, you called him. When did you stop using his given name? What's with the '-san'? Gojo hadn't realized that losing one person was the first step, and now he found himself deep in the road of losing everyone.

And now he's stuck in the elevator with the girl he had liked for so long. He couldn't find it in himself to say anything to you, to push your buttons like he always did or joke around. When did the world become so heavy? He does not know.

“Are you okay? You seemed off.”

Your face is devoid of any genuine emotion, seemingly expressionless. But your voice is laced with concern. Gojo could only guess you didn't want him thinking you pity him or anything of such. But if that isn't the case, he wouldn't know. He's too tired to bother thinking about it.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine,” he smiled in assurance, “Just bothered by, well, this-” he threw his hand in the way of the control panel. The elevator doors have been stuck for almost twenty minutes now. How pleasant.

“uh huh,” you sigh, turning back around. How did you turn so cold?

When the silence stretches, you start a conversation, hesitant at first. “By the way, I got accepted as a helper in a nursery in Kyoto,” you mutter, gaze avoiding his own. “they're expecting me to start work right after spring break.”

Spring break?

Holy shit. It hit him like a truck. That’s barely a week and a half from now.

“Spring break? Why so soon?”

“That’s when the students file back in,” you mumble, fiddling with the watch placed around your wrist. You pause to read the time, then turn to meet his eyes. “I’m leaving in four days to get settled.”

“Oh…” His breath caught, “Train?”

What a stupid question. He knows. Satoru has never been unintelligent, especially in conversing. But now his unintelligence shines through as if it’s his only trait. He’s glad you don’t question it.

“Yeah, I have no other form of transport really.”

“Well, uh…” He hates himself. He hates himself for not doing anything. He hates himself for being so weak and  cowardly, for being unable to keep his friends around him, for shutting everyone he holds close out. But now, he especially hates himself for being unable to feel happy for you, or to congratulate you on the opportunity, “come visit us every once in a while, yeah?”

Your mouth remains shut, only staring at the tall man before your eyes. The silence stretches between the two of you once again, and you don’t find it in you to speak of how you feel.

“You.. you know you could have died, right? We all could have b-but you…” You trail off, thoughts splattered like a spilled pot of ink. Although you seemed unfazed, in your mind you were anything but. Haibara, Riko, and all the losses that trailed and every event that followed has been stressful and nerve-wrecking. And even in the quietness and silence of the general atmosphere, it has been nearly impossible to find peace within yourself.

“Well, I didn’t. What happened had passed. Can you change that? I doubt so. No point in ‘if’ and ‘could’ve’.”

Before you could respond,the lights flickered back on. You grow unsure if you’ve struck a nerve, but that wasn’t what you meant. Gojo’s response had nothing to do with what you said, you were sure he knew exactly what your words were meant for. Why is he so scared of confronting it?

You don’t know. You could never hope to know because you and Gojo Satoru live in different worlds, the man who was only Satoru some time ago. You were worlds apart, yet  Satoru loved to play pretend that he lived in the same world as you, even when he stuck out like a sore thumb. But he was no longer. Ever since Geto left… it’s safe to say everyone has been changing slowly, deforming from their previous lives and personalities. But Satoru flipped, like the head and tail of a coin, he got himself a new face. He turned into Gojo Satoru; the strongest. A soul unalive. A broken boy in an ever growing body. A stranger.

Two days later you find yourself still roaming the campus , searching so desperately for something. Anything. A reason to stay, perhaps? You don’t find it anyway. You have no attachment as this place holds nothing but misery. Or that’s what you told yourself over and over as you packed your things.

Your steps were graceful, walking so cautiously as if careful to not wake someone up. Your fingers find rest on the old, dusty door frame, pushing yourself into the room that hadn’t been used for a good month or so. The classroom looked the same as it always did. Except for the shadow that loomed over it; a gray shade that sent chills down your spine. Or maybe it’s just your imagination. 

Then you spot something rather out of place. You’re sure you’ve never seen it before and although you know it’s none of your business, the way it tugs at the strings of your curiosity is undeniable.

It’s red, poking out of what you’re sure is Gojo’s desk. The gloomy classroom was no fit for paper with a color so vibrant. 

Your heart skips a beat when you glimpse the seat next to Satoru’s. You do your best to avoid looking at Geto’s desk any further. You busy yourself with the task at hand, reaching out for the mysterious paper hidden in the wooden desk. Shivers run up your arm at the texture of the scrunched paper.

You attempt to straighten it to your best ability, strained by his hard work of crumbling it with obvious frustration. you can barely make out the letters of your name in the middle of the paper, outlined by a messy circle. How Gojo of him. A few lines stick out of the ‘circle’, one of them has the name of a steakhouse somewhere in Tokyo. Another has a date, reading somewhere along February. It’s near impossible to make out what the small combination of letters say, especially when Satoru’s handwriting is closer to symbols than a comprehensible language.

The thought of it was so funny it didn’t feel like him at all. Satoru never planned anything. Every breath he took was based on pure impulse. Never would it have occurred to you that he thinks through things, let alone brainstorm.

The thought makes you smile. But the realization that he never asked you out because he changed his mind or everything that happened getting in his way makes your stomach churn unpleasantly. 

You decide it’s probably for the best to never bring it up. It would only make matters worse for both of you. Life ran its course; who are you to try and change it?

“I apologize, but my answer remains. I refuse to take part in this,” you spoke in an even tone. “I have a job and a life away from jujutsu. I’ve made it clear sorcery is not a part of my life anymore.”

"That’s completely understandable,” the old man argued, his voice hoarse with age. You’re pretty sure you hear anger further straining his voice, “but your technique is quite strong. That strength could be of great assistance if put to use.”

“Thank you, sir,” you dip your head, maintaining eye contact with the decaying man. “But I truly apologize. The decision is final.”

“If you ever do change your mind, please let us know. We’d be more than happy to hear it.”

You almost let a sigh of relief escape. Finally he gave up. You end up only nodding your head in response gratefully, retreating from the old man. As soon as you're safe and out of sight, you let your posture drop, eyes rolling back in annoyance. These guys are truly as relentless as ever.

You stopped upon a familiar scent catching in your nostrils. Lifting your head up, your eyes roam around, scanning the room for your friend.

“You look troubled,” Shoko approaches you, taking the cigarette out from between her teeth. “What’s with the face?”

“How is that man even alive,” you look at her, “he’s ancient.”

Your comment earns a light chuckle from the brunette. “I’m glad I never have to get caught up in this bullshit.”

“Blissed aren’t you,” you roll your eyes as you speak. “I shouldn’t have come in the first place, I knew they were going to do this.”

“It’s alright, you’re all done now. Here-” Your friend then lifts the cigarette up, putting it near your mouth. When you don’t show any resistance she, being the bad influence she has always been, proceeds to place it between your lips. You waste no time, making quick work of the drag you inhale, bringing the familiar cloud of toxic chemicals and tobacco into your lungs. Your expression relaxes, shifting into one of relief. Shoko scoffs playfully, muttering that you’re dramatic under her breath before she pulls her cigarette from you, taking in a drag.

“Satoru’s here, by the way,” Shoko didn’t need to look at you to guess the way your eyes snap towards her. She bites back a smile. “He’s calmed down. He’d even seem the same as long as you don’t squint too hard.”

“Good for him,” you mutter, trying to seem as unbothered and nonchalant as your accelerating heart rate would allow. You avoid looking at Shoko, trying to seem disinterested. You know she’d pretend you weren’t gawking at her the second she said his name.

“He’s trying, you know. He’s just as nervous as you are.”

“‘M not nervous,” you scoff, “For god’s sake. It’s been ten years already.”

Satoru is stressed. He's nervous, as Shoko put it. He’d spent so long trying to ignore the past, pretend the past wasn’t at all. He couldn’t confront it. He didn’t want to. Satoru knows what he’s done, he's aware that he hurt you the last time you two had interacted. And that was ten years ago. He even let you leave without so much as a goodbye. How could he look you in the eye and pretend nothing has ever happened?

Gojo didn’t want to face the consequences of what he’s done. More so what he hasn’t. So many things were left unsaid in the elevator that day. They’ve been hanging over Satoru ever since, weighing his heart down and wearing it out.

What if he’s met by another woman? Ten years change a lot as is. What if the eyes that meet his aren’t yours? What if he finds himself talking to a stranger that carries around your name and features? Of all the horrors Gojo Satoru had faced in his life, nothing caused dread to pool in the pit of his stomach like this thought does.

Shoko seems to find something beyond you interesting. You don’t bother to turn to see as the brunette has always been a little in her own head. She’s probably just dozed off.

“Hey, think you can hold this for me?” Shoko muttered once Gojo crossed her sight. She stands facing you, averting his gaze. “I’ll be right back, nature’s calling.”

From his distance, Gojo couldn’t make out what the two of you were saying. He watched as your shoulders shook, presumably in laughter. Shoko then made her away from you, barely sparing Satoru a glance.

Every step he took felt heavy, weights landing on his shoulders as he moved towards you. He watched smoke emerge from over your head. He didn’t know you smoked. And even though he’s not completely sure what you do for a living now, he’s not expecting any nursery to accept a smoker in their team.

His long strides finally arrived, opting to remain a step behind you. Close enough to make his presence known.

The aura was unmistakable, almost as if it could be physically sensed. You freeze in place, the cigarette remaining a few inches from your lips. Even after he changed his perfume to one a lot more manly and appealing, and clearly grew taller judging by the shadow he cast over you, his presence still had the same strength as it did before. If not stronger. Anyone else would say it’s intimidating. But you find surprising comfort in it.

“That’s going to kill you,” his hand  reached from over your head, making sure to not cause any unnecessary physical contact. His fingers slip the burning cigarette  from your grip. You find yourself unable to make a single move in response, only watching his actions unfold.

He took a step, moving closer, dimming the light from the roll by rubbing it against the metal bars, then throwing it off the balcony. “You’re too young to kill yourself like that.”

“That bitch Shoko set me up,” You hiss, regaining your composure. “Will you look who showed up. You’re killing the ecosystem by throwing waste like this, Gojo.”

Although you haven’t glanced his way yet, You were every bit sure his mouth was quirked in the same smug smirk he wore so much when you were younger. You could even hear it in his voice as he spoke, “You haven’t grown at all, have you?”

“Oh shut it,” you chuckle. “You’re still as immature as ever. How you could be a manchild at 27 is a wonder to me.”

27… It felt so weird to say it out loud. Weren’t you just 17 a few days ago?

“Oh, how you hurt me,” he says in exaggeration, his voice conveying anything but the hurt he claims to feel. “That isn’t very nice of you.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” You say. He laughs a little, you do too. But the silence that follows is not that of a joke. He knew what you’re referring to. Maybe he underestimated your last encounter’s effect on you.

The silence speaks for itself. It’s louder than any conversation you’ve had before. What now? What have we become? Is it of any use to try anymore? Neither of you had an answer to the question that began to surface with this interaction.

The questions remain hung in the air, dimming the atmosphere around you. Was this fate’s doing? Or his karma? Gojo has always been told he’s a god, but how could he be a higher form of life when he struggled so much to hold a conversation?

He’s about to speak again when you cut him off, muttering “here-” as you push your hand down the coat you wore. Your tongue pokes at the inside of your cheek as you search for the anonymous object.

You pull out a worn out paper, grown from what could have been a bright red to an orangish shade. His eyes study as you shove the paper in his  direction, eyes avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Seeing your bashful expression made him rather curious, the contents of the wrinkled paper piquing his interest. He hesitates before he pulls the paper from your hand, half-expecting you to bite him.

The letters were scribbles, almost like they’re straight out of some cult’s ritual,  that with the wrinkles of the worn out paper making reading it next to impossible. Still, he could make out just enough to realize what this paper is. His eyes widened behind the blindfold. It didn’t take much to remember this paper, trivial as it may be.

“You found this- how did you even…?” he trails off, confused.

“I guess I did,” You confirm. He’s unsure if you’re proud of yourself for your rather… interesting discovery. It’s bold of you to pull this out ten whole years later. But he can’t deny the relief he feels that at least this means you don’t completely hate him. For once, he’s truly at loss for words. 

But he wouldn’t let a perfect opportunity like this slide.

“Oh, so you’re in love with me? You’re so obsessed with me that you kept this for so many years, what a loyal fangirl.”

Before he knew it, a weight so crushing landed on his foot. He turned off his infinity around you as a sign of trust. But he soon came to regret his rather unsmart decision. Your foot stomped and crushed his toes. It makes him groan in pain, bending slightly forward.

“Tomorrow, at Narisawa in Minato city, 5:30. I’m leaving for Kyoto in 3 days. Don’t waste your chance again, Gojo Satoru. You’re not getting another one.”

“I take it you’ve been in love with me ever since?” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Say, did you fascinate about me?”

“Hmm..” you hum softly at his childish question, “only a little.” You show no signs of interest in his tactics as you sipped the wine in your hand. Undeniably, Gojo is taken aback by your lack of reaction. He hasn’t known you to be so reserved and smart at keeping him on edge. He couldn’t help finding your new behavior enticing.

Is there anything else you’d like to have?” You nodded your head towards the plates sitting on the table, some empty and some half-full. “Or do you wanna do something else before I go back to the hotel?”

“Hmm? Maybe I could join you at the hotel, actually. Surely it’ll be a lot less lonely with me around?”

You’re tempted by his offer, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach. He looked strikingly handsome today. Maybe you were just really lonely and touch starved, or maybe it’s the way his lips quirk as he teases you that makes your brain a little hazy, inappropriate thoughts floating through it and send jolts to your core. Yet, you set your mind on refusing his advances. You haven’t had a decent conversation since high school, for god's sake.

He keeps his eyes set on you, shining before him. You looked glamorous. He’d lie if he said there wasn’t a certain allure to  your matured looks. The years that flew by changed a lot of things about you two, but his breath still catches in his throat when your eyes meet his dreamy blues. The feelings rush back, memories clouding his train of thought. 

He’s sure he’s going to pay. He didn’t mind it at all, what a small price for getting to spend an evening with you. But you surprise him when you bring up that you had already put your card down, courtesy of having been the one to ask him out. Or maybe this was your way of telling him that you are in pretty good condition, living perfectly well without needing sorcery.

“How’s working as a jujutsu teacher?” you quip, smiling softly. “Utahime says you’ve got some interesting kids in your pack? Two special grades, too. You’re sure a favorite attraction for wonders.”

“You’re still in contact with her too?” he dodges talking about his students, not meeting your gaze. “That’s ironic. Weren’t we friends too?”

A hoarse chuckle emerges from him. But nothing about it leads back to amusement, as it was a joyless sound devoid of life. Almost as if he were mocking you. The dark lenses of the shades sitting on the bridge of his nose served as a shield. He curses himself for being so weak. He's almost thirty but somehow you’ve got him acting like he did when he was 17. 

“You didn’t try to contact me either,” you shrug, not willing to take the blame for your lack of contact. 

“You could have visited then. Even Yaga talked about you every once in a while,” he isn’t too happy and it’s showing.

“All good things, I hope-“

“Don’t change the subject,” he frowns, an uneasy edge outlining his words. “He was enough. You didn’t have to go ahead and leave too.”

“I had to move on, Gojo,” the name felt like a jab every time you used it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. This is how you drew your boundaries. Calling them by their last names gives you a false sense of satisfaction, convincing yourself that your sorcerer friends are past figures now. Mere acquaintances. 

“-I couldn’t remain hung there forever, I valued my mental health. You grew distant, the atmosphere was growing uneasy every day. I had to cut ties with Jujutsu before I couldn’t recognize myself anymore.”

“Yet you’re here now. Back to square one,” his playful tone was long gone, now replaced by an even, stern one. “Whether you moved away or called us by our last names. It’s a curse you can’t escape. you’ll always end up back in the palms or jujutsu.”

His words held some truth. You know that. But just as he refused to confront this past, you repulsed the idea of your reality. You truly want to believe that you could escape this part of yourself and live a normal life. You couldn’t come to terms with your inability. You held onto your hopes as if your sanity completely depended on it. Another thing that won’t change no matter how much you grew.

“I'll be okay as long as I refuse to interact with this world.”

Once you leave the restaurant, you find yourself wandering through the rich streets of Minato city. It felt as though the night was pulling you further into its welcoming embrace, with nothing rushing you.

“He was only thirteen,” you chuckle, arm linked in his. “It’s unbelievable how bold kids nowadays are.”

“I would’ve done the same thing, honestly,” he smirks, his gaze fixed on the stores around.

“Of course. You’ve got the brains of a thirteen year old.”

Satoru grins at your remark, pulling you into a clothes store. 

“What’s this?” you look around in confusion, noting a woman in a suit welcoming you. The place looked a little too fancy, judging by the display of the items and the lighting of the place.

“It’s a western brand,” Satoru answers. Looking over at him, you can’t help but smile a little. He looks good tonight. His fancy outfit gave the impression that he’s a model to strangers. “Louis Vuitton, I think,” He furrows his brows, trying to remember the name of the brand stores he’s been to with Nobara and Shoko.

“Prada, sir,” The lady in a suit corrected him. “Can I help you?”

“We’re just browsing, thank you.” It’s a phrase he heard from Kugisaki countless times whenever they wandered into a store. His response makes you chuckle, watching as the lady takes a few steps backwards politely.

You’re soon comfortable, searching through the expensive coats and bags. Satoru watched tenderly. Even though the ten years that passed with no contact whatsoever definitely propose a wall between you, he's glad you're able to feel free. You might nit on the same page, but you two can work with what you have.

You stride back to the “S” shaped velvet couch sat in the middle of the checker-carpet store, where Satoru sat. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You walk around in hesitance and confusion, completely aware of the lady walking always a few feet behind you. Surveillance, you guess.

You find him standing in front of the white counter, taking a black bag with the brand’s name printed onto it in golden letters from the man standing behind the counter in a white shirt with the brand's logo on it.

“Gojo,” you call him, confusion fused into your expression.

He extends his arm to you, trying to suppress any sourness at you calling him Gojo. “Let’s go?”

You nod, eyeing him suspiciously before you link your arm in his. You make sure to flash a grateful smile at the woman by the door as you walk past the reflective glass door.

You almost forgot how busy the world outside is. It felt as though the glass building of the store was sound proof. Now you have to adjust to the noise of the full streets again.

Satoru remains silent for the most part. It’s not awkward, rather just neither of you knew what to say. He expected you to ask about what he bought, which you have considered. You decide against it though as you feel it’s none of your business. You’re not too surprised anyway as Gojo has always been a wealthy man. He could buy the entire Prada chain with half of his monthly spending.

“What do you wanna do now?” He asks. “Wanna go somewhere else?”

You think about going to the club to give the night the best closure. But neither of you were dressed for it anyway. You contemplate your choices. Then you grin at him, and Satoru knows it’s best to fear what comes after

You’re well aware that he has a high alcohol tolerance. While you would be wasted a few shots in. Yet you consumed so many drinks recklessly, thinking that maybe you could beat him in a drinking game.

That’s why he’s stuck to your side now, helping your sleeping body out of his car. Satoru is glad your hotel card was so easy to find in your purse, taking it out as he gets into the lobby.

A few people eye the man, glaring at him and at the way he held you in his arms. But he couldn’t bring himself to think too much about it. His mission is to get you to bed now.

“Satoruuu~” You whine, rubbing your face into the pillow once he sat you on the white bedding. “Stay with meeee”

And Satoru is nothing if not human. Despite what everyone else says. It’s proven now that he had come to face a human flaw like this. He is weak, and you are all but practically seducing him.

“Stop crying,” He mutters. He finds himself smiling sheepishly at the unlikely scenario he found himself in. Tucking you in bed, your face hot due to the drinks you had. He really should have stopped you. “I’ll stay the night, so sleep already.”

He convinced himself it’s for the best. He should watch over you for tonight. No funny business. Deep inside he knew he was just finding a reason— any reason to stay around you for a little longer, heart yearning for the lost years. But he ignored the pathetic feeling, convincing himself it’s for your sake instead.

“But I’m uncomfortableee,” you whine again, hands running down your body. “The dress...”

Did you have to make it so hard on him? Satoru is tempted to kiss you, eyebrows knitted in the space between, eyes looking around the room for any sort of aid.

This is probably a form of invading your privacy, but he sees no other choice. He’ll have to hold it together for tonight.

“nngh..”

Your groan came with an impending headache. Your body moves against the rich covers of the bed, sunlight illuminating your physique.

He stopped in his tracks, feet bare against the gray carpet.

Your form is beautiful, one to compete with statues of goddesses. The rays of light complimented every inch of skin in all the right ways. Satoru had to physically shake his head to stop the flowing perverted thoughts in his head.

Your flinch when you catch him standing near the door, heart beating slightly faster. You thought that you’re alone. You don’t think much of it anyway, muttering a “holy shit” under your breath.

“Good morning,” he casually greets, brushing off the mutual shock, albeit for different reasons. “I made coffee, if you wanted some.”

“Oh... thank you,” you mutter, rubbing your eyes as you sit up straight. “Did you eat anything yet?”

“Not yet, no,”  he says, holding his overly sweet coffee in both palms. “Thought I’d wait until you woke up.”

“You’re a real sweetheart, Satoru,” you yawn. His name slipped past your lips before you could stop it. You busy yourself with stretching your arms. “What a doting housewife God has blessed me with”

His response is only a chuckle, rolling his eyes as he sighs on the edge of the bed. “Well, at least I wasn’t begging a man to spend the night with me”

“Huh?”

You couldn’t remember anything of the prior night. Nothing that occurred after you sat at the bar, specifically. But then you begin to realize, eyes widening at the revelation. You feel dreadfulness landing in the pit of your stomach a little too late. 

He’s shirtless, wearing only his suit pants. And even though you wouldn’t mind the sight any other day, the fact that you are in your pajamas isn’t helping at all.

“Did we...” You trail off, expression darkening. Your eyes meet his own, fear implanted in your pupils. You watch as his expression drifts from confusion to an awkward hesitance. Unsure how to break the news to you.

You don’t know what to expect, not realizing you’re holding your breath. 

“I-I’m sorry,” He sighs, gaze faltering as his eyes look away from you. Your eyes widen further, oxygen becoming hard to consume.

What have you done?

“But- don’t worry. You know I’m not some asshole...” if anything, he sounded chivalrous. “I-I’ll be accountable for my mistake. When do you want to hold the wedding?”

You gasp, face feeling hot. “You piece of shit-“ You groan as your foot reaches him, forcefully pushing him off the bed. “As if!”

He breaks into a fit of laughter, the sound full of genuine delight. “I can’t believe you fell for it,” He manages between the laughter.

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you mutter, a smile of relief breaking across your face. “I can’t believe you pulled something so childish.”

“Why are you so down?” He climbed back onto the bed, reclaiming his spot on the edge. “Are you disappointed? You know it’s never too late to just as-“

“Fuck off,” Your heart is pounding as you send him another kick, less forceful this time. “Say one more word about it and I’ll make sure you don’t make it out of this room in one piece.”

He laughs, asking you to pass his coffee. You reach for his coffee from the bedside table. Your fingers lift the glass mug to your lips, sipping at the hot beverage before handing it to him.

Your face scrunches up at the horrible taste. Too much sugar. Too much milk. It’s a lot worse than you might think.

“Your coffee should be criminal,” you push the mug his way, frowning. Satoru hums in response. 

There’s no awkwardness between the two of you, and he can’t help but cherish it. He feels content, enough to sit a little closer, at least.

Enough to lean in towards you, mouth closing over yours in an ever awaited kiss, at least.

[tipsyleaf]

Ballet Shoes and Bulletproof Vests

CW: Recovering from alcoholism (Leons just trying to better himself man

Words: 1k

A/N: 👛anon I've had brain rot because of you. But I still love you pookie.

Blue leotard... Gunmetal blue, his favorite shade. It was almost like you were trying to send a signal through the glass windows of the studio attached to the apartment building gym.

Every weekend for the past few months he'd come down and workout for a two hours without issue. Until you moved into the building a month ago. Walking through the gym in leotards and the same skin tone tights straight into the small studio space.

Leon picked up quickly that you don't seem to be doing mindless pirouettes, pliés or chassé. You practiced the same routine, which means you probably do this for a living. Or at the very least a hobby.

He tried his best to not come off creepy but sometimes he couldn't stop from staring. Leon rarely found beauty in life anymore, something he was trying to fix. His sponsor suggested that life could be worth living if you find something meaningful to live for.

Besides surviving or being a living breathing weapon.

At first, the staring was for more "primal" reasons, but it soon turned to him admiring how gracefully you could move. How sharp your movements were. The clean movements were mesmerizing and very distracting. It certainly didn't help that you were pretty either. But every time you stopped and turned back towards the windows, Leon would turn away immediately. Scared you'd think he was some kind of weirdo or worse...

A pervert.

You were probably way too prissy for him anyway. Why bother window shopping?

You're too pure, jumping around in white satin ballet slippers and him in bulletproof vests with tactical gear. Your worlds can never mix, you're too different. Far too different.

So, with his better judgment, Leon got into the habit of changing his routine and getting up at the crack of dawn like in his army days. Just to go workout first thing in the morning. Leaving the gym as you were coming in.

But one morning you didn't come in as he was leaving. And as usual, he stops at his mailbox, fishing in his jacket pocket as he walks into the main lobby.

And there you were. Stood in front of the mailboxes, sorting through a few envelopes with your tiny mailbox door hung open.

Shit... This is gonna be awkward.

Leon approaches slowly, walking up to his mailbox and ripping his keys out of his jacket pocket. Something round flies out of his pocket with a clatter as it hits the floor. You lift your head to see the green chip rolling across the floor, quickly you step past him and pin it under your shoe.

Leon stares, realizing he forgot to take his chip out of his pocket after his meeting last night. Too tired from a long day at work to remember before passing out in bed as soon as he got home. He can feel his neck heating up, he hasn't even said a single word to you, and now you'll know he's an alcoholic trying to get his life together.

And he's sweaty and gross?!

What a fantastic first meeting...

You bend down, grabbing the green chip from the floor as you walk back. Giving it a glance, you hold it out for him. Slowly he raises his hand, chest tightening as he nods a “Thank You” while taking it.

"90 days is a big accomplishment, you should be proud of yourself." He stared for a moment, fully expecting a dirty look or pity.

"Uh, yeah. Thanks. I-I am." His lips drew to a line as you walked back around him, shutting your mailbox and locking it. He gives you a glance as you grab your bag from the floor and give him a small smile.

"You're from 3D, right?" You question, his eyes glance at his mailbox, his lips part slightly. Brain trying to process how you knew his apartment without even talking to him.

"Yes?" His eyebrows raised, your eyes fixed on his uneasy response.

"Hmm." She looks him up and down, almost like she's trying to size him up. Or even taken him in completely.

"A little scruffy for my taste, but you'll get the job done." His nose wrinkled as you stepped past him, and headed for the door.

"The hell do you mean by that?" You turned your attention back to him, smiling again.

"The old ladies in the building, they talk about everyone. Well, anyone interesting at least. And they said you're pretty cute. I'd have to agree." He feels his neck burning again, embarrassment of another kind seeping into his collarbone and rising to his cheeks as he smiles a tiny bit.

He was never great with women.

"Thank you..." He clutches the chip in his hand, running his thumb across the bumped out embossing of the metal.

"And um... I know we don't know each other," you step forward again, gesturing to his hands, "but I'm here if you ever need to be talked down... 3 years for me, still have my bad days, but it gets easier with time. I promise."

He looks a little surprised, not expecting you to know his struggles in some way. He just nods, watching you lean to the side, looking behind him and turning back to leave again.

"Congratulations again on 90 days, Leon." You smile, pushing the door open.

"Whoa, wait. What's your-"

"2B!" You yell back without turning around, watching you leave through the doors leading to the gym. His head swivels, looking at the mailboxes. Seeing your name printed a piece of tape stuck to your mailbox.

His mind wanders, thinking of you as he pulls his bills from his mailbox. A folded over flyer was wrapped around the envelopes. Pulling it off the envelope, he gave it a long look. Your face staring back at his as you're leaping in a beautiful flowing white dress and veil.

Giselle printed in fancy font under you pointed toes along with show times for next weekend.

Staring for a second, he thought, pondering over the words of his sponsor telling him to try new things.

Maybe he should try theater.

[moondrop-writes]

Okay okay I know you JUST wrote something for me but I also JUST got an idea! What about either Connor Stoll or Percy dating a daughter of Dionysus!? He doesn’t know initially but when he noticed them spending more time together he gets suspicious and then when he walks into her cabin without word one day and catches her kissing him he realizes that his precious daughter is dating the guy…which he’s not pleased about. So he threatens his daughter’s boyfriend and is all “if you so much as look at her the wrong way I WILL hunt you down and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life” but ultimately approves because he sees how happy that he makes the reader? And so he goes back to reader and tries to make the threat not seem as bad and they just have a cute little picnic or something together.

If you choose to ignore that’s fine cause you did JUST write something for me, but I think it might be interesting.

hi hi! and no worries about the amount of requests ill take em all! because i just wrote something with percy, i'll go with connor + i love the stoll brothers so...thank you for the request!

edit: i just realized i completely forgot the picnic part...im so sorry :(

You sat on a bench on the porch of your cabin, bending grapevines and leaves amongst twigs to fold it into a crown. Connor, amused, sat at your feet, chin hooked on top of your knee.

"Just wait," you murmured, tongue poking out from your lips as you tie the twigs with a few stray pieces of string, "it looks better when it's on your head."

Connor hummed, raising an eyebrow. You've pricked your fingers about five times, and it'd been an hour of you carefully crafting the crown, but he'd stayed there at your feet for every second of it.

"Aha!" you grinned and leaned down to place it in his curls. Immediately, his dark curls seemed to swallow it up. He winces, as pulls on one curl that had been tugged on uncomfortably when it was placed in his head.

You'd been right, it did look better on his head. The leaves stood out in his dark hair, and the wood of the twigs was a lighter shade than his hair.

You smiled, cradling his cheeks in your hands. "See? Perfect."

He giggled, "me or the crown?"

"Both."

You leaned in to kiss him, when your name was sharply called.

"Y/N!" Your head shot up to find your father, Dionysus, making his way towards you. Connor's eyebrows furrowed, showing his distaste at the intrusion, but stood up and shuffled away a bit. Not even he would dare face your father.

"Papa," you greeted, standing up. He glanced at Connor, but looked over it and waved you forward. Nervously, you hopped down the steps to greet him. Even if he was your dad, and you were around him frequently, he was still a god and could very much turn you into a shellfish if he pleased.

"Yes?" You asked, hands folded behind your back. Your father rubbed his temple, can of coca-cola in hand.

"I need you to overlook the new campers in the archery range. I would ask somebody else, but they all made up excuses and I don't have the energy to do it," he looked genuinely sympathetic for you, knowing very well how much of a pain some new campers could be. It wasn't new to you, for him to treat you so kindly, but Connor made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat.

"Yes, papa. I'll be there in a moment, let me grab my bow," you ran back into the cabin, and exited just in time to hear your dad dismiss your boyfriend.

You gave Connor a brief wave, which he grinned and returned, but stopped and ran when your father stared at him.

"God, I hate Hermes' kids," he said before taking a sip of his drink.

You chuckled weakly, shouldering your bow. "Yeah..."

He walked off, and you blew out a puff of air.

Guess telling you dad about the status of you and Connor's relationship was once again put off.

--

Dionysus knew there was a problem with his eldest child, he just couldn't figure out what.

Castor and Pollux were easy, both boys barely into their teenage years. You were a different story. You showed a whole new set of emotions and talents that Dionysus couldn't figure out. It's why he and your mother hadn't worked out very long (other than the fact he was already married). You and your mother were very similar, but you were both very stubborn.

You obeyed, most of the time, but there were certain things you just refused to bend to. It was what had intrigued him of your mother, but now, while he was attempting to raise you well, it was a struggle.

But even then, you'd become more closed off. You used to greet him daily, whether it was a wave or coming up to say, "good morning!" you always gave him some sort of hello. And sometimes, you'd even join him to play card games, which is more than what he could say for your brothers.

Now though? Each morning when you walked by the big house you were talking to either Connor or Travis, sometimes even both, and it'd been weeks since you bothered to come play games, or even hang around with him.

He didn't want to say he missed you, because it didn't bother him that much. But he was a literal manifestation of entertainment and got bored rather quickly. He loved his boys, but he'd always had a closer bond with you than them. You were a form of entertainment to him, but you were also his daughter and such a shift in behavior concerned him.

Hate to say it out loud or not, he loved you dearly. You were his only little girl.

And it wasn't just the fact you'd stopped talking to him, it was the fact you stopped talking to your brothers too. Castor had approached him on the verge of tears because he'd thought he'd done something to offend you. But, when he payed more attention, he found it was because you'd taken to following the Stoll brothers around.

But teenagers did that right? Leave their annoying little siblings in order to hang out with friends? Gods, he's watched too many romance movies with you.

The number of times he's stared at a TV screen and seen the whiny little sibling snitch on the older sibling after they'd snuck out to talk with their partner should be a crime.

His thoughts flit back to Castor, sniffling in front of him because his older sister was off with Connor Stoll somewhere.

You, with Connor Stoll, somewhere.

Oh, my gods.

He stood up abruptly, just narrowly avoiding knocking over the table as he stormed down the steps of the big house. You had some major explaining to do.

It was easy to see why'd you been dating someone. He cherished you for a reason, so it isn't hard to see why someone else wouldn't. But you were still his daughter.

Connor Stoll? Really? He didn't want you dating any of these brats but there were certainly better options than Connor Stoll. Like that one Apollo boy, but Dionysus is pretty sure he's gay.

He approaches the cabin quickly, and he watches the camper's part to let him walk through. It's easy to anger a god, but it's not easy to soothe that anger.

Dionysus swings the door open and pauses. He doesn't know why he was so shocked, but he supposes it was just the confirmation that stopped him.

There were only three beds in the rather large cabin, so he found yours with ease. There was you, lip locked, with Connor Stoll. He felt his veins light with rage as the two of you jumped apart.

Connor's hand was still on your thigh, and yours on his arm.

"Hands off," he grumbled, swatting at his arm. Connor pulled back as if he'd slapped him.

"Papa!" you cried, jumping up. He didn't touch you, but he held out his arm and you understood. Quietly, you took a step back, staring at the floorboards.

He turned back to Connor, staring at him with wide brown eyes. He raised a finger to jab in his chest.

"Listen, Stoll, because I'm not going to repeat myself," he leaned back, gesturing to the space between you and him. Connor nodded shakily.

"Yes, Mr. D," he stuttered out, glancing over to you.

"Ah, ah, ah. No, eyes on me," Connor's eyes flit to him.

"If you even look at her again, I will make sure you and your future kids regret it for the rest of your small mortal lives. Understood?"

"Yes," he repeated, struggling to make eye contact.

"Good," Dionysus said and then he points to the door, "now get out."

Connor does, only after pausing at the door. He doesn't look back though, and Dionysus turns to you.

He sighs when he sees your tears, and you sniffle softly. "Y/N," he calls gently, raising his hand to wipe at your tears. You turn your head, and his hand brushes your shoulder instead.

You wouldn't dare say anything, so that meant it was all up to him.

"You know I'm doing this for you. Connor...he's just, not the right fit--"

"I loved him though!" you shouted, hiding your face in your hands, "he made me really happy, Papa, and you ruined it!" You sobbed, loud and noisy, and it reminded him of when you were young and wailed over things such as scraped knees.

"You're still young," he tries to reason, "there will be others!"

"Not like Connor," you say, "and besides, I doubt you'd approve of them either."

He pauses at that, hand hovering midair. He never knew what to do to please you anymore. You'd moved away, grown more distant, since your childhood. You'd grown up. He hadn't changed, you had.

Maybe he had to change with you.

His hand grabbed your wrists and pulled them from your face. Then, he wiped at the tears on your cheeks and pulled you close. You fought at first, but melted into the touch once he rested his hand on the small of your back.

"I just want you safe, you know that, right?" he whispered, like it was a secret.

Slowly, you nodded.

"I mean it, Y/N. I love you, and your brothers a lot."

Still, you weren't satisfied.

"And," he said, taking in a deep breath, "if Connor makes you happy then...you can pursue him further."

You jumped back, a grin on your face. "Really?" you asked, a small hint of doubt in your tone.

He sighed, "yes, really."

You threw your arms around him. "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Dionysus ran a hand through his hair. "Mhm, yeah, whatever.

You pull back again, your wide grin softening into a shy smile.

"Papa, I can handle myself. I mean it. Thank you."

Finally, a smile makes its way onto his features too.

"Yeah, you're welcome."

[serin316]

Acceptance of a True State (transfem tim caroline hill)

First installment

Current installment under the cut

He had tried to ignore how the name "Timothy" grated along his skin.

How Caroline was like a balm to soothe a burn.

He flopped onto his bed at the Manor, groaning as he and Dick came back from an outing with Damian for some art supplies.

He was getting into weaving.

Good for him.

It was after dinner, so they just were left to their own devices. It was a low energy day for most of the house.

The Caroline wig needed cleaning. Tim washed and blowdried it in his bathroom before trying to brush it one handed since she forgot his maniquin head at the Nest.

She grumbled before putting it on so he could brush it like a regular head of hair.

She paused when he saw how she looked in the mirror.

The collision of Tim and Caroline.

Tim's clothes and Caroline's wig and it was like seeing two worlds meld into one and she just wanted to deny it and push her head underneath her pillows and hide in their closet like a scared kid hiding from shapes made from the shadow of clothes on a stray chair during the night.

She took a breath and brushed out her hair, becoming used to the sight in the mirror.

It made sense, from how she felt ever since Caroline became part of the closet. A section just for her.

The name Caroline fit better than Tim, but it didn't feel like a name she would keep. Why would it?

Caroline was an alias, someone to dissapear in.

She wasn't meant to dissapear.

She responded more readily to Caroline because it was the lesser of two evils.

Caroline was a stepping stone thrown at crack in the wall which tears down the entire fortress.

Peices of her were in Caroline, same thing with Alvin.

Caroline just felt more right. More like her.

The color of hair she chose for Caroline looked a few shades darker than Janet's. Like her mother was passing down a revalation in place of the love she forfiet in life.

She finished brushing her hair, debating what hairstyle to test out before doing a final brushing and storing it.

She put her hair into a high and messy bun, just holding it up to see how it would look.

That was her.

Completely and utterly her.

Timothy was based off of old Greek, right? It meant honor or honoring God.

She picked up her phone and scrolled through some baby name sites, seeing Minta cross her screen while she was curled up on the bathroom floor in a newly washed wig.

She scrolled back up, reading the meaning.

Protector and defender.

She looked at the name it was contracted from.

Araminta

She tapped on the hyperlink.

One of the meanings was strength.

It fit.

Minta smiled as a wave of relief flowed through her.

She didn't want to hide it. She was done living in denial. Araminta didn't care anymore.

She had her crisis, and now had her answer.

She had her big deal.

Now? When she done and that it was true?

It's a fact of her life now.

She opened up the family groupchat.

Selected her profile.

And changed it to something stupid about her name.

Ara-Ara

Save new change?

Saved.

Ara-Ara: Was anyone going to tell me that an alias could crack an egg or was caroline just SUPPOSED to trans my gender

Where's the B: Not many people crossdress for cases so yes, Caroline Hill was just supposed to make you realize that you are transgender.

Grayninja: CONGRATS BABY BIRD!!

DamiDolls: good for you, i am robbing your drawers for cufflinks at swordpoint in an hour

Wanted Dead Or Alive: congrats kid

Goo Goobie: that's good to know! why do i have a feeling from your display name that you named yourself after an evil anime lady

Princess Cass has sent a thumbs up and a trans flag

Princess Cass: im happy for you

Brighthouse Networks: neat!

Twilight Sparkle: girls(?) onlu shopping trip when??

Ara-Ara reacted to Goo Goobie with a laughing emote

Ara-Ara reacted to Twilight Sparkle with a purple heart.

Ara-Ara: my name is Araminta

Alfred Pennyworth: Drat, I lost the bet with Miss Kyle. That is quite a fine name Mistress Araminta.

Grayninja: wait

Grayninja: we now have the abcs

Grayninja: araminta, bruce, and cass

Where's The B: Yes, a dad and his daughters

Princess Cass sent three yellow hearts.

Ara-Ara: yk i have never truely played dress up

The chat went quiet before the thundering of footsteps echoed in the hall.

Dick and Steph got through her bedroom door first before blocking everyone else off to affronted screams. Steph had clothes in her arms that Caroline wouldn't be caught dead wearing.

Araminta grinned at them from the bathroom doorway.

"Minta, want to do a fashion show?"

"Hell yeah!"

[captain-mj]

Angels Of Digitalism

Part 1 Part 2

Soap sat on the couch for a bit, continuing to draw. Simon looked over his shoulder as he worked. 

He watched Johnny continue to draw. The little lines and different shades of grey. It didn’t really make sense to him until Johnny zoomed out to show everything. Simon followed each intricate detail, finding it all hypnotizing. 

Johnny was so focused, he had his tongue between his teeth as he worked. It was cute. Simon glanced at Alejandro who was still deep in his phone.

Ghost decided to ask a question. “Have you ever heard of Sacred Geometry? Your work reminds me of it.”                                    

“No.” Johnny answered as he continued to draw.

There was a moment of silence. Ghost was more than content to just let it be. 

Johnny stopped what he was doing to look up, all of his attention suddenly on Ghost. “Are you going to tell me about it?”

Ghost paused, not expecting the artist they were paying to care about that. “Do you want me to?”

“Yeah. Sounds cool.” Johnny smiled at him and clearly waited for him to go on. 

Simon nodded. “Sacred geometry is the study of the spiritual meaning in shapes. You know the fibonacci sequence right?”

“Yeah, in one of my art classes, we talked about it. If you use it while making trees and spirals, it makes them look more natural. One of the golden rations I believe.”

Simon grinned and Johnny smiled back. For a moment, Ghost wondered if he forgot to put his mask on, before realizing Johnny was just looking at his eyes. “Yeah. Exactly. Most of the time it’s just dozens of interlocking circles and spheres to make patterns but the other shapes are included sometimes. Cells make those patterns, atoms make those patterns, the solar system, the galaxy potentially our universe. All just boiling down into patterns that we can decipher and find the meaning of it all somehow. Circles mean the never ending loop, I believe something to do with reincarnation. The numbers that go into making them.”

“You think we can find the meaning?” Johnny asked him, looking at him with a strange amount of surety. Like Simon might actually know something. 

Simon laughed a little and immediately wanted to take it back when Johnny looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t know. Don’t think there is much of a meaning to anything. I think we’re just here and then we’ll die.”

“How nihilistic.” Alejandro gave him a glare over Johnny’s head. A very clear ‘we’ve talked about this and have you talked to your therapist recently and are you taking your happy meds’ glare that made Simon roll his eyes at him. 

“But if you find meaning in it, that’s up to you. Your work just reminds me of it.”

Johnny thought about it before laughing. “I think I know why! I used religious art as a reference fur some things. Especially angels, ye ken, cause o` yer name.” 

Alejandro and Ghost made eye contact over his name again. Yeah, Soap was not subtle about being scottish, but his accent thickened so suddenly Ghost couldn’t really understand it. He did find he kinda liked it though. 

“English, Soap.” Ghost decided to try. 

Johnny slowly looked at him before hissing. “Awa' 'n' bile yer heid, ye british bas.” 

Ghost blinked. “Yeah, that didn’t help. I understood that even less somehow.” 

Johnny grumbled and went back to drawing. Ghost sipped his drink and decided maybe it was time to bow out. The harnesses were done. The rigging all done. Roach would hopefully be finishing up soon. 

Johnny leaned into him, just a little. It was so he could get a better angle with what he was working on, but they were pressed close together.

Simon swallowed and waited for the usual panic that came from being unexpectedly touched so much, but nothing came. 

Maybe therapy was working. 

Alex and Roach stepped out of the room, both looking tired. “Alejandro, thank you so much for coming and helping.”

Soap glanced at Alejandro, really confused as all he saw him do was sit on the couch and type, but alright. 

“No problem guys. I’ll come every day this week.” Alejandro stood up and he and Alex fistbumped and Alejandro squeezed Roach’s shoulder as he passed. “Oh, Simon?”

Ghost looked up.

“Continue being cute for me yeah?” He winked and Ghost blew him a kiss. 

“Disgusting.” Rodolfo deadpanned. “Get a room.”

Alejandro spoke in Spanish to him and Rodolfo just shook his head. 

“I forgot to get you yesterday Soap so I thought I should make sure you come with us this time.”

The lights went out through out the building.

“Why did they put them on timers? Doesn’t even make fucking sense.” Alex turned his phone on as he spoke, illuminating them all. Slowly, everyone else got their phones out and turned them on. “Didn’t realize how late it got.” 

Soap hummed. “I thought you guys just turned them off yesterday…”

“We wouldn’t leave you in here. On purpose.” Rodolfo promised. “It’s why we sent Roach in.”

“Wait, where did Roach go?” Ghost stood up and looked around. He didn’t have his light on, but it wasn’t really necessary with so many lights already. 

Roach gently brushed his hand and Ghost tensed for a moment, before calming when he saw it was just Roach. “There you are. Don’t wander off in the dark.” He grabbed his hand. 

Rodolfo rubbed his temples. “Alright, let’s try to find the exit.” 

They all fumbled around in the dark for a while. Soap awkwardly bumped into more people than he ever wanted to. He found the door though and everyone escaped the dark venue. 

Ghost put on his helmet but perched on his motorcycle for a few minutes. Soap didn’t know why, but he waited with him.

Rodolfo did a quick head count of everyone before nodding. “Alright, everyone’s good to go home. Alex, remember, thirty minutes between edibles.”

“No.”

“Kill yourself then. Roach, please be careful in that car. It looks evil.”

Roach saluted him. 

“Ghost, remember to take your meds.” 

Ghost visibly shrank and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I fucking will.”

“Soap. Keep up the good work.”

“Wait, does Alejandro not get berated for something?? And why does Soap just get a keep up the good work?” Alex immediately complained. 

Rodolfo shrugged. “Soap is my favorite coworker and Alejandro is a guest.”

Alejandro gasped. “Mi sol, a guest?? I am a guest??”

“Yes. You’re a guest star. But still a guest. You’re not on a contract right now.”

“Wow, are we not friends?” Ghost scoffed.

“We are friends. It’s how I knew you weren’t going to take your meds, Roach was going to speed, and Alex was going to get high. I don’t know what Soap does when he’s not here!”

Soap hummed. “Mostly just take online college classes and commissions.”

“Boring. I can’t say anything about that. Oh, make sure you get grades??” Rodolfo scoffed and motioned towards Soap. “Get a better haircut??”

“I like his mohawk.” Roach used an app on his phone so it sounded like the vocaloid he used. Soap thought that was pretty neat. “Plus, more importantly, I was not going to speed.”

“We have the Life360 app. Your top speed coming in was 95 miles. Ghost is a safer driver than you. And he doesn’t even have a license.”

“You don’t have a license?” Soap turned to him. 

Ghost threw his leg over his motorcycle so he could get on properly. “Goodnight. I totally have a license.”

“Let’s see it then.”

“It has my face.”

“You can cover it up!” 

Ghost revved his engine. “No.” He two finger saluted everyone and left quickly. 

Roach watched him go with this… almost soft look in his eyes. He looked at Soap and held out a piece of gum. 

Soap took it and popped it in his mouth, making Roach grin. “So, have any plans tonight?”

Roach texted him instead of using the voice app. “Not really. You?”

“Go home and relax I suppose.”

“Want to come back to my place?”

[skarlette1]

Wishful Wand: Part Three (NEW)

–Part Three of Wishful Wand

The sun was setting by the time I awoke from my post-orgasmic nap.

I’d had the most bizarre dream that I had been transported to Quimtonian prison dimension. Some criminal from Quimton’s past had attempted to force me to help her with an escape attempt. Sammie’s wand hadn’t given me a magic vision of Al-Phae, but definitely a really weird dream.

Unless …

I slowly pulled the Wand from between my sticky thighs. I’d never learned to read the Quimtonian language, but the symbols carved into the length of it certainly resembled glyphs I’d seen in Captain Alpha’s Quimtonian Refuge. If this was actually a Quimtonian artifact, then it very well could have transported my mind to the Shade Circumference. My dream-like encounter with Commissar Zehd might also be real. She could have used her erotic energy powers to break me down and give me three important commands: Keep her secret, help Sammie revive U4ia, and lure Captain Alpha into her trap.

Just remembering the commands she had given me sent a thrill through my body. The Wand twitched again toward my pussy, but I retained enough self-control to keep it at my side. Whatever hold Zehd had over my mind in the Shade couldn’t survive out here in the light of Earth’s yellow sun. Remembering the commands excited me for good reason. It meant I knew what Zehd was planning and how she wanted me to help achieve it. All I had to do to foil her evil plan was simply do the opposite of whatever she commanded.

The first command was “don’t tell anyone about Zehd and her plan.” As a reporter, telling people important things was my job. This would be an easy command to disobey. Straightening my clothes and slipping my shoes on, I stashed the Wand in my purse. Walking down the hall, I started composing the news article I would write to expose every one of Zehd’s secrets to the world.

Stepping into the elevator, I pushed the button for the floor with Sammie Sims’ workshop. If I could subvert Zehd’s “commands,” I could certainly help Sammie resist the brainwashing, too. Together we could put an end to any chance that the Quimtonian criminal could make her way to Earth.

Before reaching the workshop, the door opened and Platinum Panther entered the elevator. She wore a shiny jumpsuit instead of her armor, but her holographic face completely concealed her true features. “Ms. Zane, I didn’t schedule a press conference today. Is everything okay?”

This was the perfect opportunity to tell her about Zehd’s plan. After Captain Alpha, Platinum Panther was one of the most powerful superheroines in the Libido League. If anyone could stop the Quimtonian criminal, here she was!

I opened my mouth to speak. “Panther, there’s a—eerggghhh.” I spluttered as my throat, jaw, and tongue all cramped up.

Panther took my shoulder. “Ms. Zane, are you okay?”

My face burned hot with shame. Here I was, a reporter that could barely speak! “Yes, I’m sorry. Just forgot what I was saying mid-sentence.” My jaw relaxed. Making the excuse flooded my body with relief and pleasure.

Why hadn’t I told her about Zehd? If Platinum Panther knew there were a Quimtonian criminal trying to manifest on Earth, she’d stop at nothing to foil her plan.

That was the exact problem, I realized. If Platinum Panther were completely focused on the threat of Commissar Zehd, who would protect Skarlette City from other supervillains? I’d nearly distracted the city’s greatest protector! That was a close call.

Platinum Panther offered a warm smile. “Happens to the best of us, Ms. Zane.”

The elevator stopped on Sammie’s floor and we both tried to get out at once. “Were you going to see Sammie Sims, Panther?”

“Yes, I noticed some power fluctuations on this floor and want to see what trouble she’s gotten herself into this time.”

If Platinum Panther investigated Sammie’s workshop, she’d learn about the plan to use U4ia’s body as a host for Zehd’s mind! She’d be completely distracted from protecting the city. “I have an interview scheduled with Ms. Sims right now, and I’m on a tight deadline. I’ll tell Sammie to contact you when we’re done the interview.”

Platinum Panther narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t realize Sammie Sims was talking to the press now.”

I had to think on my feet. “I contacted her. I’m putting together a piece on the support personnel who work behind the scenes to help heroes do their jobs. Police dispatchers. Ambulance drivers. Fire engine mechanics. That sort of thing.” I couldn’t tell if she was buying it. “Unless you think that Ms. Sims isn’t worthy of being included because she has no powers?”

She raised her eyebrows at the implication of bias against those without superpowers. “No. Not at all. Sammie does a great job. Talk to her as much as you want, Ms. Zane. Just tell her to call me when you’re done.” She stepped back and let me pass.

With a few little lies and the power of the press, I’d done what very few supervillains had managed: Fended off Platinum Panther! As the elevator doors closed, a wave of pleasure rippled through my body. I sagged against the wall, my knees too weak to support me. Closing my eyes, I relished how good it felt to tell no one about Commissar Zehd and her plans.

When I finally regained my composure, I headed to Sammie’s workshop.

--To Be Concluded (in a week or so)...

(I know I said it would be concluded this time, but the story has just kept expanding. Hope you're enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing!)

---

Like what you read? Will you buy me a coffee and request something rich to sink my teeth into? Or peek into the depths of my longer fiction?

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Noceda House Layout Huh?

Guess I'll have to do it myself.

Well- My sister @bluefireblaze (she's not active on tumblr go to Insta to check out her awesome art) helped a lot with this

This is gonna be a long post, but in the very beginning I'll show the concluded House Plan's. I'll go in depth about areas me and my sis are still confused about and why some areas we decided are certain ways.

SEASON 3 SPOILERS

I hope this helps at least SOME fanfiction writers and/or fanartists. Rip to me and other's that wrote the layout differently in their head (presumably if this layout is correct)

I'll also be providing a ton of screenshots so, reference.

If you have anything to add I'm welcome to discussion! Obviously I'm not the creator nor ever worked on the owl house so take everything here with at least a little grain of salt. But I am about 90% confident I got at least the majority of the house correct.

Link to part 2, it's also reblogged, 2nd floor and basement.

Blue = Windows

Black = Usually the doors, Bathroom has a sliding door and is brown along the wall for that reason.

Orange (or any varation) = Defining walls

Shaded Brown = Going upstairs or down stairs that wouldn't remain on the same level

Red = Rough idea of furniture, Photos

Outside of the house= different greens and designs for a big tree at the side and bushes around the house

Question Marks = Unclear about specifics of that area from the screenshots I've found Edit: ...forgot to upload the version with the question marks... Oh well.

A lot of these areas have more guess than straight fact about wall placement btw

Think that's it

2nd Floor

Main Floor

Basement

Without text & furniture:

Roughly.

(also, yes I did just realize that Camila's bed has furniture at both sides shh I know I'm just not gonna go back and edit)

Ready for some explanations and reference in one place? Heck yeah.

If you only came for the floor plan then you don't really need to see the rest unless you want explanation.

Outside:

Note: The window at the back I'm chalking up to error in placement since the kitchen doesn't have any windows on that side and that window better fits in the living room. The chimney is somewhat awkwardly placed but not too much

Another Note: The way the door opens changed last time it was seen in season 1 so I'm gonna chose to believe they got a new door, in universe.

Entrance:

Kitchen toward the back and a door at the back. Notice: the wall for the door doesn't align with the kitchen's back wall. This makes me think the door isn't just to the outside and leads into a small hallway, likely to the basement

Bathroom isn't in view for three of these

Hallway:

Note: The latter screenshot proves that the living room is at the front of the house

Living room:

I at first thought there was a break in the north wall that led to the kitchen but upon further inspection it is probably just a regular wall that juts out.

WE ARE IGNORING THIS

I

I CAN'T UNDERSTAND THAT WALL PLACEMENT (behind the photo) RIGHT NOW AFTER A LOT OF WHAT I DID SO BOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Kitchen:

Keep in mind the door behind Willow, Amity, and Luz, Off to the side. It's the area I understand the least.

Me and Blue are guessing it leads to a pantry like area? Maybe has some stuff to do with the chimney. But that is what some of the question marks are about on the floor plan.

Bathroom

Note: Sliding door. Right across the hallway.

Only thirty images allowed per post on tumblr so I'll reblog for the Second floor and Basement after this. This includes the door at the end of the hallway that I could only conclude led to stairs descending into the Basement

Here's the Link to that post

Only gets less clear from here.

Btw I got a handful of these screenshots from fancaps.net since those episodes aren't available like season 3 is. At least, not in a way that is easy to find consistently.

[abjectimpulse]

details for sun and moon

why yes! the internal name for this one is 'sun and moon'.

it started out fairly simply. i wanted to do a piece with sun and moon imagery with dirk and hal. i always love sun and moon imagery, and i find dirk very sun coded, and hal very moon coded. (hal only being seen as a reflection of the light from dirk, etc, etc.)

i went to look through random images to get some inspiration on which direction to go with it, and i saw a picture of this absolutely beautiful kimono. which gave me the idea to give them sun and moon themed kimonos. i love drawing detailed beautiful clothes.

then i thought about how using blue for hal felt wrong, which led me to 'blood moon' hal, so he could still have his signature red. solar eclipse dirk just sounded cool. sometimes i just do things because they are cool and no other reason.

yes, i am aware they are both wearing women's kimonos, but let me tell you, men's kimonos are BORING and not pretty at all. i want the prettiest kimonos!

the idea of making them a pair of twin deities just came out of nowhere, i can't really pinpoint a certain thing that triggered it. but i wanted to cover them in pretty jewelry and tattoos and makeup and just go all out with it. originally hal was a robot, but it seemed to fit better to make him 'human', to match dirk. not human since they are deities, but you know what i mean.

am i going to get into the flower symbolism now? might as well, a piece with so many flowers for both of them seems like a good piece to get into the flower symbolism.

i always use orange lilies to represent dirk, and black roses to represent hal. those black roses with a bit of red in the middle, you know the ones?

for dirk: orange lilies symbolize strength, courage, confidence, warmth, energy - and on the negative side, they symbolize hatred and disdain.

for hal: black roses can signify obsessive love, death, danger, hatred, rebirth or a major change in life. and black roses in the wild are never truly black - they are always some dark shade of red or purple. pure, real black roses are always artificially made. plus the symbolism of the red fading to black.

i gave them both weapons because i wanted the vibe to be a sort of mischievous, malicious sort of deal. like, these are deities that you don't want to cross. i gave dirk his katana of course, but i prefer giving hal daggers. don't really have a reason for that other than i like daggers.

i wanted the vibe of this piece to be as if they both noticed you there at the same time and they aren't sure if they want to play with you or eat you alive.

the chain connecting them is to symbolize how the sun and moon are linked inextricably together, you cannot separate the two. each of their collars has the others sign on it, another sign of how intertwined they are.

that shrine behind them is their shared shrine, as you can tell with both their symbols adorning it. it's based off a real shrine in japan, i referenced a photo i took while i was there. the real one in japan is a small, out of the way shrine, i think it was part of the suwa taisha network? i'm not sure.

i made dirks skin more tan than i usually do to emphasize the difference between them. the bright paleness of hal and the golden tan on dirk.

i think that's all for this piece. tl;dr i just really love pretty kimonos and shinto aesthetics. i had fun with this one.

(just realizing now looking at the piece in more detail that i forgot the rings on hal. god damn it.)

song for this piece is:

twin flame - EMM

[dominantslasherking]

Arthur Harrow with Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+.

Backstory: Falling and beginning to worship a god, that is Khonshu's close friend...wasn't a part of his plan. And somehow being able to kidnap the god in his human form, make it so much easier for Arthur.

Sitting and observing on a random roof as Khonshu and you watched his avatar fight a jackal. "I quite like Steven, he's adorable." You uttered out to your dear friend, he rolled his non-existent eyes before speaking, "He is such a fool." Khonshu huffed out.

"Tell me why are you in your human form again?" Khonshu asked his large body turning to you. "Well, how can I join in on the fun, if your avatar can't even see me! Or any other villainous people, am I suppose to just...watch!" You expressed out flailing your well-toned arms.

Khonshu leaned closer to observe your human form, "Just get yourself an avatar." He bluntly and boldly told you, "Haven't found anyone that piped my interest..other than your avatar(s), who are already taken!" Khonshu buffed out in slight pride

Both the divine beings snap back to Marc who was currently in control, and talking well, more like snarling at the man who wanted the beetle which led to Ammit tomb.

"What are you exactly going to do, seduce them, you lust god." Khonshu seethed out in a slightly teasing manner.

"I'm not only the god of lust...I'm also the God of wrath and pride." You grinned out your eyes flashing, red and then into a shade of gold before residing back to their normal color, [Eye color].

"You forgot a few others..." He muttered as you slowly nodded, "Yes, yes, but I'm not really trying to...what do the humans call it...--flex? Yes...I'm not trying to ...flex, that I'm practically seven deadly sins but a god.." Sighing out, as Khonshu.

You peered closer at the two men fighting, "What's happening.." You muttered noticing the Ammit worshiper summoning more Jackals than Mark can handle, overall there were about 6 of them.

Khonshu shook with rage, not expecting the vile human to do that, "He's trying to get rid of my avatar(s)!" Khonshu raged out, the wind picking up and whipping around furiously.

"Say..please." You laughed out, noticing Khonshu realize that you could interfere since you were in your human form.

Stretching your muscles as you heard Khonshu mutter a small plead, which of course you knew is the best you could get out of him, "Alright, but don't expect me to be quick, the other gods and goddesses decided to restrict almost all of my powers in my human form." You tsked out annoyed.

It nearly took almost all of them to do this act, considering you were very powerful, however, some did refuse vividly enjoying the show you brought to them when they watched over the human realm.

Standing up abruptly, you then suddenly launched yourself off the building, rapidly making your way over two figures and of course to the jackals.

Activating your power of Envy, you looked at Khonshu's avatar, as Marc and Steven wondered what in the world you were doing staring at them for so long.

Everyone was in awe, as they watched you suddenly summon Khonshu's avatar suit, not knowing it was one of your abilities provided by the sin envy, which made you able to steal another power, or maybe barrow considering, they could still use their own but in a rather weaker state.

Not bothering to introduce yourself, you started to attack a Jackal, jumping onto it, and summoning a crescent moon sword

"Hey, Mate...why is this guy kinda cooler than you?" Steven spoke up to Marc with a laugh, as Marc completely ignored him.

Arthur watched in awe at your skill, of killing the Jackal but noticed your movements being to droop.

"Ah, shit.." You muttered under your breath, the restrictions of your god powers in your mortal form were taking a toll, and you only used an Envy ability so far. Suddenly you threw your crescent moon sword to Marc, hoping he would be able to make much more use out of it since his strength was already returning at your weakened state.

After dealing with one Jackal, you moved on to another one that you, heavily injured but got extremely annoyed at how exhausted your power was becoming, from the restriction placed on your mortal form. Not even knowing they were restricted to such an extent that you had about 5 minutes using them until you wore out.

Marc was quite skillfully dealing with the Jackals because of the handy crescent moon sword, and Steven gave some rather surprisingly useful tips on how to wield it.

You wobbled off the Jackal after it dissipated, clenching your fists you enterally cursed at the other gods, not noticing that your body began to fall, right into the arms of the Ammit worshiper, who caught you and stared at you intensely.

Arthurs's gaze was fixated on the newcomer, knowing he can't let this person get in the way of his mission, it would be quite bothersome after all, considering he didn't even know what other powers or even if he had such powers he held.

He did feel something strange around you, The other cult members of Ammit came near, finally caught up to Arthur, as he spoke to them, "Take him...Be cautious..." Arthur signaled them to go, as he trailed along, leaving Marc to deal with the Jackals he summoned.

<><><><><><<<<>>>>><<<>>>><<>>>><<<>>><<>>><<>>>><<>>>>><>>

Groggily opening your eyes, you seemed to be in a beautiful large space room, however, your arms were dangled up, being chained, you realized your body contorted in somewhat of a larger form not fully at your godly state but somewhat there.

"I'm sorry, for the hostile way of containing you, it must be done, I really didn't expect a god to be in my hands.." Arthur gently spoke, his frame coming into your view.

Once he came closer a sigh escaped his mouth, as he gently touched the chains around your wrists, "Ammit, provided me with these, after I did a bit of praying...Some of the other Ammit followers...have filled me in about you." He continued on.

"Luckily, the chains did suddenly contort along with your body, making it able to hold you..." Arthurs's hand gently made its way to your face, as he made sure you were awake.

Arthur, however, didn't expect the rush of pleasure to invade his body, it was like a wave passing right through him.

He stopped caressing your face, stepping back a bit, the glass in his shoes clattering slightly.

"It seems you would do a lot for, Ammit right...Even though you aren't even her avatar yet..." Jealously was clearly laced in your voice, why or how was Ammit able to gain such an astonishing follower? It made your envy flair with jealousy, however at the same time, your lust flared, just how angry would Ammit be if you took her best follower and soon-to-be avatar?!

Arthur stared at you for a while as you looked at him, "Ammit...worshiper, do you wanna know a dirty secret?" You lulled out, as he stared at you in slight amusement.

"Do you want to know why Ammit practically wants to rid me from existence, it's because she says that she is able to judge people's morality, and even gods..." You uttered out, Arthur wondered where you were going to take this conversation.

"Yet, she can't even judge me correctly, a god who holds the power of the seven deadly sins.." Your voice was simply calm as you let out a weakened voice.

Suddenly you broke the chains shackling your wrists as you towered over the awe-struck Ammit worshipper.

Your voice suddenly was booming as you smiled at Arthur, "But my dear human, I can promise you something, If you become my avatar I can grant your wish, you wish to live in paradise, which I can provide!~" Of course, your paradise might differ from his, but he couldn't help but stare at you, deep down wanting to believe those words.

However he couldn't trust it...because he was betrayed and lied to by a god, whom was close to you....and yet---

<<>>><<<>>><<>><<>>><<>><>>><<>>><<>>><>>>><<>>><<>>>><>

Arthurs's head was gripped, as his entire mouth was salivating on your cock his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head, as you relentlessly mouth fucked him.

Your quite literally godly, large cock, was stretching his throat nearly imaginable, Arthur could swear that if he died, he would want to with your hot, warm cum running down his throat, and filling it to abrim along with his mouth being stuffed.

Arthur wanted to suffocate himself on your cum if possible, but he did want to live and enjoy more of it, more, more, and more.

To keep his hands busy he placed them on your musclely thighs, as you were mercilessly fucking and tearing at his wet, warm enclosed throat. Arthurs's harsh gags could be heard throughout the large Villa.

Letting out a groan was pleasing to Arthur's ears, as was your husky lust-filled voice, "Alright, my sweet--Mm~ Avatar, Are you readyy-~~ For me to.." You paused pounding at his throat for a moment before finishing, "For...my divine, cum?" You hummed out with another groan, as Arthur tried to eagerly nod his head, but ended up bobbing down your cock in his throat.

Gripping Arthur's hair you kept him at a steady pace until you felt your cock throb, you suddenly slammed your cock in his throat, before doing it once more with much more force and roughness.

Cum started to explode into Arthur's throat and up to his mouth, as he kept his eyes staring into your own lust-driven ones.

The thrusts inside Arthur's mouth were now sloppy and calm, until you finally rested inside his mouth for a bit, watching as he swallowed every bit of your cum, and tried to lap up the excess cum around your cock with his tongue.

Arthurs's new-found paradise was one he wanted to keep, and his mind was no longer driven on Ammit, but the god, [Name]

[stupid-dumb-autistic-idiot]

(tw dark shit. dont read if you're too sad for it pls)

au facts: hero mode 2 edition because i want one of those mugs/tshirts that says "i <3 ____" but it says i <3 marie angst

also i asked if you guys wanted to see this ina previous au fact post and it got a lot of notes so i assume thats a yes

edit: forgot to mention being an idol was fucking hell. theres a little more in an old post but not much bc i dont have much about it

-the way callie disappeared is she had a fucking mental break and left the apartment to cool off and never fucking came back

-also the squid sisters dynamic is way different but basically marie makes sure callie doesnt forget to eat and accidentally starve herself and callie makes sure marie doesnt have a panic attack upon experiencing a moderate emotion

-so marie is completely by herself with a lot of big feelings she doesnt understand or know what to do with so what does she do? ding ding ding!! shes just mad at everything now

-so now all 3 people she likes/tolerates have fucking vanished and shes completely isolated and nobody does fucking anything to help (yeah remember that from canon where nobody gave a shit?) so shes isolated for like months and is probably going insane

-agent 4 just kinda hung out at octo canyon bc he didnt realize it was a military base and then marie got there and was too exhaused to really do anything abt it

-marie was known as agent 2

-marie didnt really make him an agent he was just there and then after hero mode agent 3 was like "is that an agent 4" and 4 was like "ok cool"

-he didnt help until like 3 months in because he was like "oh holy shit this is not getting better i should probably provide some like human (inkling) contact so agent 2 doesnt khs"

-marie was too tired to tell him not to help so he just kind of awkwardly followed her until he figured out what to do

-she was just kinda vaguely mean to him because she was barely a person and incapable of much else

-you might be like "huh if marie had it this bad what happened to callie" and to that i say none of your business!! its my special lore that only i get to know. she was sad too tho dont you worry

-marie slept for like 4 days when callie got back lol

-callie could not put the shades back on even if she wanted to!!!! marie burned them

edit 2: i almost forgot the best part! marie stabbed octavio with a boxcutter until he stopped screaming

[quillyfied]

Things I’m noticing on this rewatch, which I’m hoping to take slow and ponder on but we will see how it goes, PART ONE (obviously major Good Omens season 2 spoilers throughout, specifically for S2E1):

- Angel Crowley’s hair is so bright and curly! The shade feels more like his new post-apocalypse ‘do, which I find curious. New hair is obviously still much darker but it’s that more unnatural shade of red that could be very bright indeed under the right lighting.

- Aziraphale trying to soften angel Crowley up for his warning by complimenting the colors of the nebula first. People pleaser already, I see.

- The opening: that bit where they separate. They’re on the wrong sides. Then they move past each other to the right sides. Then they separate backwards to the wrong sides again, and that’s when the bridge between planets behind them breaks apart. Pretty obvious visual representation of where they end the season, but I do have to wonder about the emerging “they swapped again” theory and if this back and forth motion could be pointing to that.

- Initial analysis about Maggie: cute as a button, blonde, runs a shop of antiques not particularly useful or lucrative in the modern world, formal style of writing, accommodating to the people around her (perhaps to excess), vintage aesthetic all the way around: immediate thought is that of course she’s a mirror to Aziraphale the same way Newton Pulsifer is. Let’s see where it goes.

- I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THIS SPY EXCHANGE ON THE BENCH BEFORE SHAX SHOWS UP. Also why aren’t we talking about Shax more??? She’s a delight! The way she’s absolutely befuddled by how humans outdo her at her own job, the weird strained but sort of mentor/mentoree and also informant relationship she has with Crowley, how she is also probably one of the best dressed in Hell without the smell and blemishes and obvious animal aspect…she’s fascinating and I can’t wrap my head around her. Is she supposed to be a dragon? I could deffo see dragon.

- “What’s the point of it all?” Oh Crowley. So correct.

- His hair matches her dress. Significant that they match??

- Half rations of what???

- The correction of the peas. I weep. Has the air of all the times Neil has probably been corrected about it on tumblr and elsewhere for the bread in the book XD

- There are a lot of Statues of Liberty in Nina’s coffee shop. Why??

- Initial analysis about Nina: cool, collected, blunt, friendly but not familiar, hipster vibes, popular store and business model without being a model business owner, seems like she has it all together but has a pretty big lingering anxiety in the form of a controlling relationship: perfectly fine mirror for Crowley, like Anathema Device. Continuing to see where it goes.

- John Hamm’s befuddled face is the highlight of his performance for me, bc he has such a commanding gregarious menace for playing Gabriel and it’s weird to see it replaced for just…gregarious :P

- I know this is a horrifying moment but can we take a moment to just appreciate the comedy of Aziraphale seeing Gabriel’s whole bare bottom before realizing whose bottom it is? Gosh and the hug. So awkward. (THE JIGGLE)

- John Finnemore also excels at writing idiots. Jimbriel has John’s fingerprints all over it. The conversation is golden.

- This conversation with Michael makes much more sense now tbh but. Want to talk about it in full later, when we have all the information.

- I’ve noticed it since we got promos but: Jimbriel using the angel wing mug and Aziraphale using the blue teacups just…strikes me. Could be because he’s having tea and not cocoa. But still. Hmm. Interesting.

- Aziraphale’s immediate panic over knowing what it’s like to be close to a person. Hmm. Yes. Quite. (And a moment to enjoy Gabriel, even in some pretty extreme amnesia, knowing Aziraphale is safe and will help him. Not so much warm fuzzies over GABRIEL knowing that as it is Aziraphale getting to HEAR that from someone who should by all accounts not feel safe with him at all. Guardian instincts being validated. This won’t backfire.)

- Listen maybe it’s just because I watched the Barbie movie the night before I watched GO2 but all I’m thinking when seeing Jimbriel is that his Kenergy is off the charts. And I know that basically just means he’s at peak himbo performance but Kenergy feels more appropriate right now. More introspections there later, I think.

- Formulating a thought about the box, about how it has very prominent double red arrows and “this way up” on it…and the instructions were on the bottom. Something something Heaven/Hell Gabriel/Beelzebub symbolism?? Foreshadowing for The Final Fifteen Minutes, maybe for season 3 itself????

- “You’re funny. I love you.” UH HEY JIMBRIEL. JIM CAN WE TALK ABOUT THAT. GUYS CAN WE JUST. DISCUSS THE LAYERS OF THAT. Not here, obviously, but at some point.

- The thing about writing an idiot is that they have exactly the wrong intelligence for the situation at hand. It makes them very funny. Even more so when their intelligence actually happens to be helpful.

- THE FLYYYYYYY

- Muriel!

- Oof. Sexy Bentley animations.

- “Now that I’m not reporting to Heaven” INGRAINED BEHAVIORS THAT NEED ADDRESSING, PERHAPS?

- I feel like we don’t talk about “six shots of espresso” enough. I realize it’s been like two days and there’s a lot going on but SIX. SHOTS. OF. ESPRESSO. CROWLEY. It expressly does not calm him down. Oh hey instrumental Bohemian Rhapsody!

- I paused just to fully take in the affronted look on Crowley’s face at “naked man friend” XD

- Crowley downs six shots of espresso in one go and then comes face to face with the exact being of his worst nightmare. No wonder he blows a literal lightning gasket.

- Aziraphale knows about Shax. Interesting.

- Ask him properly? Interesting turn of phrase. And Crowley leaps in immediately between them. Of course he does. Ask him properly meaning be threatening about it this time, I suppose?

- I. AM. DUSTING. ITS YELLOW. HHHHHGK.

- Crowley solution: get rid of the problem, run from it. Get away from it. Aziraphale solution: confront the problem, solve the problem, go charging into the helping of the problem. Hmm. Interesting.

- The whole “our exactlies are not the same exactly” IIIIINTERESTING.

- “I thought we carved it out for OURselves.” “SO DID I.” Y’all I cannot WAIT for the parallel gif sets. This conversation, the bandstand, the sidewalk, and The Final Fifteen Minutes. Phew. Knockout parallels.

- That was a surprisingly petulant lightning strike tbh

- Michael and Uriel sniping at each other. Somehow love it. BUT ALSO. This conversation has so many damn LAYERS now!! Heck!!!

- The floating armchair. Heck yeah.

- The distance between Muriel and the archangels, the way they talk down to her so thoroughly…heck.

- Like how the Resurrectionist matchbox has the skull and crossbones but also the Bible verse on the side. The two halves of the sign, brought together.

- MORE FLIESSSSSS

- Beelzebub’s tactic for trying to get Crowley to help find Gabriel is…interesting. I might have to make a whole separate post to analyze this scene. The matching chairs, the determined way Beelzebub’s pursuit of the hunt isn’t immediately suspicious, the flattery, but most importantly, it’s getting its own bullet point:

- The way Beelzebub shares the bit about Extreme Sanctions and how that is enough to flip Crowley’s Protect Aziraphale switch. He’s on the hook, because now there are actual stakes.

- I wonder, though, at how I didn’t immediately catch that Michael saying “anyone found HELPING him” was said. Anyone caught helping Gabriel. Why would helping an archangel be cause for Extreme Sanctions?? Surely it would be a good thing for anyone, even Aziraphale, to have kept a vulnerable Gabriel safe all this time. I’m chalking it up to first time watching excitement and sleep deprivation but huh. HUH.

- Anyway, back to Beelzebub; they immediately offer a reward to Crowley, a carrot instead of the stick. And Duke of Hell is on the table. Interesting. Weird. And their wording is anyone “involved in the affair.” Very slightly different context. Wouldn’t give away that Heaven is indeed on a manhunt (angel hunt?), but not for the exact reason you would expect.

- I wonder about the temporal implications of being erased from existence. And how this very serious and apparently mythological mode of punishment is coming back in season 3. Hmm. Hmm hmm hmm.

- Also Beelzebub’s “report to me first” I SEE YOU NOW

- Nina and Maggie’s lock-in is…hmm. The “no judgement” about drinking thing strikes me as something someone with a very religious upbringing would say to a friend who drinks. Bit clunky, lot condescending. Interesting way to get to a segue.

- Good old fashioned lover boy better have an amazing comeback next season XD

- LOVE seeing the onscreen effects for the text messages, love the way they’re like crumpled up notes, love the immediate energy that brings to this already suspicious relationship. Sigh.

- I knew “I’m back” had petty marital bickering energy from the trailer but I HAD NO IDEA HOW MUCH.

- Also brief moment of real sadness for how this is a rehash of “angel, I’m sorry, whatever I said, I didn’t mean it. Good? Yes? Get in the car.” Just smoothing over the rough patch so they can move on rather than. Yknow. Talking about it and fixing it.

- Also notice how the apology dance doesn’t actually involve saying “I’m sorry.” It’s more an admission of the other person’s intellectual or moral superiority. Which is. Funny! But also. Sad!

- Jim. Jim you were just outside earlier. Jim please.

- I notice the “little” miracle is done over the portal to heaven. Hmm. I thought at first maybe Jimbriel’s latent archangel abilities were at play but I much prefer the “together Crowley and Aziraphale are super powerful without meaning to be” interpretation, because it makes The Final Fifteen Minutes make SO much more sense.

- The miraculous plume is pink <33333

- The inherent comedy of “nobody will notice a thing!” *BLARING ALARMS* XD reminds me of “he’ll have an enormous hellhound with him! He’ll be easy to spot!” *cut to Dog* from season 1 :P

- Okay, final thoughts on this first rewatch: yeah the foreshadowing and scene-setting is impeccable. Great energy. Loving it! Picking up on so much more tiny hints and clues! Missing God’s narration but it really says a lot, actually, that She isn’t there anymore. No Agnes Nutter book for guidance, no scriptural references to necessitate God’s voice being present…different flavor.

Okay! Might do episode 2 tonight, as well, but I have Things to do first! We will see!

[overflowing-with-words]

someday, i will lose you to the stars and the moon | harumi j. [pt.1]

a/n: includes heavy Harumi and Lloyd friendship interactions, don’t read it if you don’t like that and/or feel strongly against any type of Harumi+Lloyd friendship. follows the last episode of crystallized, mostly canon compliant until the end of that episode. 

also on ao3

tw: death, blood, malnourishment, hospitalized scenes, mind control, ptsd [flashbacks].

☼ ☼ ☼

There’s a day where Harumi wakes up, and realizes she can’t remember her own name. 

There’s a second of sleep filled panic and adrenaline rushing through her mind as all the breath is dragged out of her lungs, but it’s back in less than a second like it never even happened. Harumi. How could she forget? 

She perches on her thin makeshift bed, and forces herself to inhale until she can hold some semblance of calm down. Harumi inches towards the edge of the room, and her purple- yes, purple, she’ll never get used to the different shade that glares back at her everytime she looks in a mirror- gaze falls to the small window carved into the wall, and the stifling dark city anchored below, crystals shining and flickering steadily as the overtaken stumble through the streets in a bleary haze.

 It does nothing to help. 

(She’d always loved watching the city at night, when it was empty and quiet and illuminated a bright fluorescent splatter of light with steady rows of street lamps and the occasional lone car driving down highways, headlights navigating through the thick darkness. Seeing it like this hurt, especially knowing she’d helped cause it.)

She reaches across the small room and flicks a few buttons on a radio, the static sounds of audio buzzing to life before it switches to a quiet tinny stream of music. She’d picked up the old radio sometime in between her travels to Shintaro and Ninjago, and she can remember a few quiet nights picking through scattered trash for supplies to last her to the Oni temple. 

Maybe that’s where, although it feels a little too good to be thrown away and picked up away. Stolen, maybe, but that’s a pretty low worry on her list right now.

It helps drown out the constant droning hum in her ears, the one Harumi never likes to think too hard about, the one that seems to get louder and louder everyday until she’s pressing her hands too tight over her ears, digging fingers into her hair like she can force the sound out. 

It plays a old song, one of the abandoned radio stations looping it over and over, and Harumi thinks she might have listened to it sometime, sometime before her parents left her, before she meets a boy dressed in green and loses herself in sickening revenge and hate. 

 A faint memory of her mother’s smile drifts across her eyelids, and she blinks away the tears that come up at her eyes, dangerously close to falling. This is no time to be weak, not time to dredge up old memories when there’s no safe corner anywhere to curl up in and cry. 

(There are gaps in her memory, filled in with even if she tells herself she just zoned out or fell asleep or simply forgot, left somewhere on the tightrope of excitement and danger she’s been so, so close to falling off.)

The Overlord talks over parts of the plan she doesn’t remember hearing before, but Harumi keeps her mouth shut and nods along with the foreign words. It’s not like she can do anything to stop it by herself, and even if she wanted to, she’s sure she’d never be able to tell the ninja. 

It’s a while— she loses track of the minutes, and they meld into hours before she realizes it, and the battle begins. And it’s worse than she expects. The Overlord is stronger then she remembers, with his hordes of crystallized zombies sweeping through the city, picking off any stray citizen that hasn’t managed to escape into their houses yet, and the stiff Vengestone soldiers marching around with whichever new villain appears to lead them towards empty leads. 

They stumble across a few of the ninja sometimes, and Harumi hears brief reports of the fire and earth ninja escaping from Pythor’s grasp, some whispers of a second orange ninja jumping in to help. She listens blankly to the hisses of anger from the snake, and forgets about it almost as soon as he turns his back. 

She can’t find it in herself to actually fight, and the Overlord doesn’t seem to notice her that much anymore, so she stands at the very edge of the rocky crystal flooring, watching the city drift under her, the occasional fight or tussle lighting up bright purple. 

For the most part, it is so much quiet than she would’ve expected. Harumi thinks she would’ve preferred the loud, messy, sounds of a outright battle to distract her from her thoughts, but up here is nothing but silence. She drifts into the buzzing growing louder still, threatening to overtake her last few thoughts like what’s really going to happen once we win and some others she doesn’t prefer to linger on, like I hope no one’s hurt and why did she want the Overlord to win, again? 

Eventually there’s more people crowding on here, unstabalizing the base even more with their carefree steps and chatters, and the Overlord’s sharp voice rips through her thoughts like a blade. She recognizes some of them, faintly, picking out fangs and shining eyes and a familiar eloquently carved pearl white mask. She can’t remember their names for some reason, but digging too hard into the matter only makes the buzzing even louder, so she doesn’t. 

There’s a question, and she steps forward before she can stop herself and blurts out the answer she didn’t know she had. Pale violet fractures off the visor of Mr. F beside her, one of the only names she can pick out beside the Overlord and Garmadon and—

And nothing else.

The rest of it melts into blissful silence, not without buzzing (always in her ears, slipping into all the dark corners of her mind, why is always there–) and she thinks she might have gotten hit by some shattering shards of crystal sometime into the attack and her head suddenly really, really hurts, and all she can do is stand there. Her lips move, offering up bland words to the Overlord, who’s the only person she can remember now, not even trying to pull up any other memories beside the last few days– hours?

She hears the words “Great Devourer” and snaps awake, like someone reached into her mind and flipped a switch. Static flurries across her vision, and the infernal buzzing is still there in the back of her mind, but Harumi feels like she’s seeing things for the first time in a while.

And then a lot more things are rushing into her mind, things like her parent’s faces disappearing in a slide of rubble and dust and a dark liquid she tells herself isn’t blood, and Lloyd, bright green eyes staring at her across so many rooftops with an expression she explain but knows she hates, and the Overlord and their quiet words and power worming it’s way into her fractured, fragile mind without her realizing she was being overtaken, bit by bit. 

Her breath is coming out in short shaky exhales, nails digging sharp into her palms as they leave half moon cresents graved in her flesh, and Harumi thinks she might be having the first panic attack she’s had in a while.

What has she done? 

“You,” she whispers, and her vision goes blurry with hot tears spilling over as a sob slips from her throat. “It was you.”

(Someone has stabbed a razor sharp thing in her brain, she’s sure of it, it hurts so bad—)

Another second passes– and there’s someone splayed across the ground, shaking and trembling from pain as the oh-so-familiar purple races down their figure. Blonde hair slips down, framing his face, and she knows him. There’s a heavy weight on her chest, like guilt or relief, but she isn’t sure which. 

Enemy? Friend, her mind decides, but not really, and then–

–then her sword is in her hand and she’s leaping on the impossibly huge, caverning body of the new creature the Overlord summons– or is? She isn’t sure of the exact details of the last few hours– days, maybe, stretching into weeks and months on and on, just big gaping tears in her mind. 

She slashes and stabs and scrapes across the impossibly hard skin, and there’s someone screaming and sobbing, sound cutting into her ears, but she relishes the sound and digs her sword in a little harder. 

Then Harumi realizes she’s the one screaming and sobbing her lungs out, and that’s enough to throw her off, for the Overlord to catch his balance and fling her, hard, into something hard and cold and painful, tearing through her skin and her careful self applied stitches. 

Harumi isn’t sure, but she’s thinks she blacks out for a while, because when she opens her eyes again the Overlord’s shadow is falling over her with some muffled threats she doesn’t put any effort into listening. He raises his fist, violet light flickering andb lazing from inside, and she stares up blankly, wondering if’ll hurt less than being slowly crushed by debris as dust settles into her lungs, slowly pushing her into suffocation. She’s really hoping it will, when a tremor shakes the floor, and Lloyd– Lloyd again, flies out of the seemingly empty air underneath them, perched dangerously on a four headed dragon that seems to have spawned out of nowhere, radiating a golden, burning aura. 

Her breath catches in her throat as she watches the dragon swoop down and tackles the Overlord off the platform, crystals shattering with their tumble and scattering down like a shower of broken stars. 

They slam against the foundations in a glowing purple tangle of fire and ice and lighting, and Harumi really, really, hopes they don’t bring the whole thing down on the city while they’re at it. She realizes a few seconds in that she’s biting her lip to bloody shreds, pain blurring her worry as the sharp tang of metallic iron drips down her chin. 

They slam back onto the crystal land in a snarling knot of gold mixed with deep purple, and she shouts Lloyd’s name before she can stop herself, something in her heart giving way. He looks back at the source of the voice, jade eyes widening in remembrance.

“Harumi! Take cover—” he screams, and she does, staggering up and pulling herself up to lean against the ragged edges of the crystal throne. 

For a second she thinks it won’t be that bad, a careful sliver of hope growing as she watches. 

 Then the world explodes into searing explosions, pure white lighting jumping and burning into her eyelids as hungry crimson fire licks at the edges of her fingertips. There’s a dragon roar or four somewhere through the flames, and she squeezes her eyes shut, scared the pure power will burn her to nothing away on the spot. 

Bright crystalline stone fractures into a million tiny shattered pieces, and bursts out into the air. A few catch her in the face, dragging tiny sharp edges and drops of scarlet down her pale skin. 

When it stops, the world is quiet, and then she’s stumbling out of her hiding spot, snnow white hair scorched at the edges, trailing heat across her shoulders. Lloyd looks at her, eyes bright with worry (he still worries, even after everything she’s done.)

“Are you okay?” she blurts out, stumbling to his side, but Lloyd doesn’t say a word, unreadable gaze dimming as he turns away. She absentmindedly wonders if it’s because he doesn’t trust her —not that she can blame him for that, or if it’s because he afraid of his own answer. 

There’s some angery bickering between Lloyd and Garmadon she doesn’t really register, because she’s busy looking at the former Lord, who looks different and exactly the same somehow. Then the ground below starts trembling again, pieces of crystal smashing at their feet, and they clamber up onto the dragon, hauling her up with them. 

It’s a breath taking ride down to Ninjago City— literally, because the dragon flies to fast Harumi can’t find the energy to draw any air into her lungs, and when they hit the ground, she almost tumbles off in a bleary daze. 

She can’t help but compare the hateful gazes the ninja send her way, discreet as they are, to her own not too long ago, and tries to ignore the way her breath hitches everytime she catches a stare. In fact, she recalls another attempt to kill them all from just today, if she’s remembers correctly (she’s not doing that very well often), and wonders if the actions she made under the Overlord’s influence still count as her own. 

To any outsider, it’s probably a yes, so she pushes it into the corners of her mind to ignore till later. Or never, if she could. She forces on a small smile that she hopes looks good enough when Lloyd puts a stiff, awkward hand on her shoulder, making some excuse for her actions. 

She still catches the flash of uncertainty across everyone’s faces, though, and bites her lip again, hoping the pain might serve as a distraction. 

Another burst of pain thuds through her forehead, and she closes her eyes for a second, only for the decieving darkness to lock a arm around her throat and drag her down.

[part two]

[part three]

[torchickentacos]

Behind the art- step by step of how I made THIS post! https://at.tumblr.com/torchickentacos/happy-valentines-day/wb89h200y8qy

1: thumbnail art for idea at 11 pm the night before starting the real deal.

ACTUAL step 1: sketch, kind of map out the planes of the face. I STARTED with the asaro head planes but eventually just kind of ended up making my own little system that probably isn't great but whatever, it works. spend ten bajillion hours and 75 references on this stage to make the proportions right or at least close enough and also swear off trying to draw open eyes in profile view or at all, if possible.

2: block out grey underneath, will be made into the base for clipping layers. I'm grabbing layers after making this, so if it doesn't align entirely, that's because it was altered and moved around a bit for the final product and not in accordance with the first sketch.

3: start adding where the divots (shadows?? deeper parts?) in the face are. I used a semi-soft?? round brush that kinda blends or could be harder depending on opacity, idk how it works but I used it pretty much exclusively. Here's how I sort of see the light and dark areas??? but tbh it's less of a 'science' and more of an 'experiment in some random ass garage'.

4: no more guidelines since we've blocked out in grey what goes where, roughly. Darken the eye sockets, add shading under the nose, sort of find where the cheekbones and jaw are, and go from there. Start adding deeper creases and stuff, leaning towards detail work. Ignore that Drew's side has lighting and more shading, I accidentally did all of that on one layer fjgdjfgdjk.

5: add eyelid top because you forgot

6: get sidetracked and draw the eyebrow before remembering to sharpen the black lines. At this point I'm writing this all out live as I draw. It's been... 5 hours???

7??: work more on shading in her face. Remember to blend his out because it looks janky in comparison.

optional: congratulate yourself on that nice eyelid.

Blend stuff out, alter stuff there, end up here, ignore the hole in her head

8: spend literally 3 hours blocking out hair and realize drew's fucKING EAR IS MISSING

step idfc anymore: FINALLY START COLORING OH MY GOD IT IS COMING TOGETHER

Step???: coloring hair and adding a jacket and stuff!!! hair looks janky but with the lighting plans I have it's fine.

Decide you hate parts of it so you redo it. Go back to messing with hair. It is now 9:47 PM. Notice that Drew looks like a corpse. add warmer shading to him.

change mroe stuff. it is now the next morning. add backlighting. his hair is bugging me but i literally have no time to care about that.

FUCK AROUND WITH LIGHTING HELL YES I AM SO CLOSE. What I do is blue shadows in multiply and light peachy gold overlay for light. IMPORTANT NOTE: SUBSURFACE SCATTERING IS YOUR BEST FRIEND FOR LIFE!!!!!! That's the orangey glow you get from being backlit.

Final touches!!!!

[dadbodfanatic-x]

Paper rings; part 10

Jim Hopper x original female character

A/N: lots of fluff, lots of angst I live for it. I love it. Mentions of some rough shit, experiments and thing. General cussing.

Trying to explain to Joyce what you all saw inside that lab was difficult because it still didn’t make sense to you. You were sat on the couch trying to make sense of everything while her and hopper were at the table discussing some of the things he saw.

“A drawing? You didn’t say there was a drawing” you heard the tone in Joyces voice change and you knew she was concerned that’s where her son was being held.

“It wasn’t Wills drawing…” that was the first clue to you that it wasn’t a cell for Will. He could really draw and you knew if he was being held somewhere and given the option to draw his would be very detailed.

“Are you sure? Just maybe look at these” Joyce went into another room to grab something

“I promise it wasn’t Joyce. My whole glovebox is filled with drawings from Will, he drew me something at Bennys every time we went. I could spot it, I promise”

The gears in Hoppers head were turning and it’s almost like you could see the lightbulb go off before he jumped up and ran over to the coffee table “earl said he saw some kid with Benny the night he died right?”

You sat up to follow his train of thought “yeah he wanted me to bring clothes remember?” You watched as he pulled out the article about Terry Ives missing daughter Jane and how she sued Brenner but nothing ever came of it.

“What if this whole time we thought we were after Will but we’ve been chasing the wrong kid?”

You stood quickly beginning to pace the room “I mean it’s possible. you know Will, he’s the sweetest kid in town. Maybe he ran into Brenners missing kid on his way home and tried to help them?”

A few more theories were passed around before everyone decided to part ways. The Drive home was a somber one, giving Joyce the news that Wills body was fake and she was right really felt great but not being able to tell her where her son was made things tense and you felt like your head was still spinning trying to grasp what you and Hopper saw in the basement of Hawkins lab.

When Hopper made the turn onto your street dread began to seep into your bones, after everything you saw and what the lab did to you both and also knowing someone had been in your home at some point to plant a bug made you feel so unsafe in your own home. “Hey Jim…” you asked so quietly it was almost a whisper

“Yeah…” he looked up at you with tired eyes as he put the car in park in front of your house.

You began fiddling with your hands “do you think that you could maybe stay with me tonight?” You finally looked up to meet his gaze “I don’t really feel safe being by myself…”

He reached out to grab your hand “of course doll” and you released the breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

When you stepped into your front door both of you just stopped, you left so quickly for Joyce’s today that you completely forgot the mess that was made looking for the bug. You looked at Hopper and groaned “I’m too tired to deal with this right now…” and he chuckled “as long as the couch is clear, I’m good”

You turned abruptly when he said that “wait, no…” and he turned to you confused “I uhhh I was kinda hoping you would stay with me in my room tonight…” and he shook his head yes as he rubbed the back of his neck “yeah…yeah that’s fine if you’re okay with that”

You led the way into your room before you realized his flannel was laying right in the middle of your bed. You snatched it up quickly but you could tell by the look on his face you were already caught “is that my shirt?” He was smiling and your face was turning a bright shade of red “I mean, I might have grabbed a flannel on my way out the morning after we got drunk and I stayed over. It’s fine I’m just gonna change real quick.” And you made a beeline for your dresser but you could still feel his eyes glued to you as he sat down on the bed to take his boots off.

You stood in front of your dresser for a long time, you normally slept in a long shirt and underwear but didn’t know if that was acceptable right now but you were exhausted and couldn’t think much of it so you just grabbed what your normally slept in a made your way to the bathroom. When you came back you actually had to take a minute to stand at your door. Hopper had always been giant but something about him laying in your bed made him look extra huge, he was laying on his back with his eyes closed and his arm up behind his head. He must have sensed you staring “you good?” He groaned, eyes still shut.

You stammered a little at him catching you but tried to play it off “you gonna sleep in jeans?”

“ I uhh didn’t know if I should or not” he finally opened his eyes and sat up.

You laughed as you came around on your side of the bed “take your damn pants off Hop” and you lifted the covers to get in and face your back to him giving him some privacy. Although you’re certain you hear a “yes ma’am” under his breath.

You feel the bed dip down beside you and try not to smile at the thought of Hopper in your bed. When he’s finally settled behind you just a little too far away for your liking but still close enough to feel the heat radiating off him you can almost hear how hard he’s thinking before he says it “can I…” and you cut him off quickly “please” you feel his large arm come to rest over your hip before he pulls you back into his chest and between being encased by his warmth and his scent and finally feeling safe sleep takes you quickly.

When the sun finally starts to peak its way into your curtains you groan at the intrusion and snuggle farther into your pillow, except you realize that it’s not in fact your pillow. At some point in the night you must have rolled over because now you’re cuddled into hoppers chest, his large arm wrapped around you, his hand squeezed over your hip and your leg thrown over his hip. You almost feel bad being awake and still laying like this but it’s the best you’ve slept in a very long time and you feel warm and safe and you lose track of your thoughts when he groans and pulls you into his side tighter before rolling to face you and wrapping his other arm around you too.

“Can I shower?” He groans into your hair and kisses your forehead. Never moving from his current position.

You’re ashamed at how taken aback you are by his sleepy morning voice. It’s octaves lower than normal and strikes a chord somewhere deep inside your core “yes…yeah of course” you finally answer into his chest before you hear him chuckle and feel it vibrate through your whole body.

When he finally releases you to get up and shower you actually whimper at the loss of warmth, and him of course. “I’ll make it quick” he says before exiting the bedroom. You know he plans on meeting Terry Ives today so you jump up and head into the kitchen, you start a pot of coffee and throw some eggos into the toaster before you head into your room again to get ready. Luckily your second day curls weren’t terrible so you throw them up into a clip and let some frame your face before you throw on an outfit and do a quick rush of your makeup.

You had just finished frying some bacon and throwing it on a plate when you hear the bathroom door open, you had already finished eating and were working on your coffee when he rounded the corner and saw you. He came over and picked up his cup of coffee before leaning over and planting a kiss in your hair “thanks doll but I gotta take this on the road. We gotta get moving” you just nodded for fear of your voice letting it slip just how lovely this domesticated morning in the middle of chaos was. He snatched up one waffle before putting a handful of bacon on top and sandwiching it between the other waffle. He took a giant bite and let it hang in his mouth while he had his coffee in one hand and his other was on your lower back ushering you out.

The ride over to pickup Joyce was quiet, you were giving him time to eat his breakfast in peace and honestly giving yourself time to wipe this stupid smile off your face. You were staring out the window when you felt his large hand slide over your thigh “you okay?” He sounded so sincere. You looked at him still sporting this goofy grin “yeah of course…” he smiled back at you “last night was just..” his smile actually grew “yeah…it’s the best I’ve slept in months” and you placed your hand over his and squeezed.

Picking up Joyce was easy and you were on the road again in no time. A small part of you was so surprised when you got back into the car after letting Joyce in the backseat and Hoppers hand was right back on your thigh. Jim had decided to stop at a pay phone on his way out of town to call an old friend Frank to see about getting Terrys address, leaving just you and Joyce in the car.

“So you and Hop huh?” Your head snapped around to Joyce “I don’t…I mean I’m not” you groaned when Joyce began to giggle “Hey, I think it’s great. He’s a good guy, he deserves someone like you” you smile at her unsure of what to say so she grabs your hand “he’s lucky to have you, so am I. Thank you for everything, for believing me and for helping the boys” you grab her hand tight now “you never have to thank me for that, I love those boys to death”

You see Hopper exit the phone booth and Joyce let’s go of your hand to wipe some tears away and when he enters into the car she asks “did you get it?” “Yeah I got it” he responds before pulling back onto the road.

You all crowded onto the porch of the address Frank gave you hoping this was the right place, you took a deep breath as Hopper knocked. A woman answered the door and she was rightfully timid as Hopper explained he was the chief of Hawkins and we needed to speak to Terry. The woman finally agreed to let you in but she mentioned that we were about five years too late to talk to Terry. You admit that confused you because if Terry was dead why would this woman allow you all into her home but as you rounded the corner you somewhat understood.

“This is my son Will, he’s been uhh missing for about a week now” Joyce began explaining to Terry but she never responded and never looked at the picture, Hopper attempted to ask about Brenner but Terry still never made a sound.

“What’s wrong with her?” Hopper asked Terrys sister.

Before the sister explained anything she had you all sit down

“She was a part of some study in college”

“MK ultra?” You asked leaning forward interested in if Terrys family had any idea the type of study she was in.

“Yeah that’s the one! Started in the 50’s it was supposed to be ramping down when Terry Joined but the drugs just got crazier. They gave her LSD and They striped her down naked and put her in isolation tanks. Trying to expand the mind…” After explains the study Hopper asked about the CIA being involved but the sister just blew that idea off “she didn’t know she was pregnant at the time…”

You remembered seeing the story about the daughter “Jane right?” You asked and the sister shook her head yes. Joyce asked about pictures of Jane but she told you all that Terry actually miscarried in the third trimester.

When Terrys sister invited you upstairs to show you the nursery she had created hoping one day Jane would come home your heart broke for her “she says her kid was born with abilities you know telekinesis, shit you can do with your brain”

“Do you think it could have been real? Having the kid?” Joyce asked the sister but you knew the answer before she even said it, you knew what people who didn’t believe anyone looked like and she was it.

When you left Terrys house and got back into the car you couldn’t help but feel guilt, here you all were drumming up old memories for Terry but you also felt hurt. You hurt for all three of them, Joyce, Terry and Jim. They all three had lost children and you’re heart split open when you heard Hopper talk to joyce about a chance, we still had a chance to save Will and he would do anything to just have a chance with his daughter. You reached out your hand for his and pulled it into your lap and squeezed it three times, you’re sure he didn’t know what it meant but you did and that was enough. You were staring into his hurt filled eyes when you heard his radio crackle to life. You wanted to roll your eyes at the thought of the station not being able to handle Jim not being there but then you heard it.

“There’s been a fight, it’s Jonathan Byers”

“WHAT?!” You and Joyce both yelled together.

[bookofmirth]

im gonna piggyback off someone else's ask that you just answered here haha, but DO you think Feyre's - - and other characters too I guess--are adequately addressed? i know you don't feel that way about her shit in spring, but other stuff?

Hello! After I posted that response I realized that I got stuck on responding to the quote about Nesta and Az and forgot to mention the Feyre part *facepalm*

I assume you mean her flaws? That's what the original anon said, so that's what I will go with.

I think that... I don't really need their flaws to be addressed as long as the plot and the relationships make sense. So not yes, not no, more "I don't really care if they are or not so I'm not pressed about it" haha

I know that sjm tends to be very, very heavy handed with her good guy/bad guy dichotomy - unpopular opinion, but I don't think she's actually putting that much moral grey space in her books, the villains are very clearly bad just because they are bad people, and the protagonists are the most beautiful strong *insert other quality here*. There is little room for interpreting Tamlin, for example, as anything other than a villain in Feyre's story. Which he was! Or an antagonist, if not an outright villain. Him being pushed aside is an indication of that, imo.

For example, you want a morally grey character? Two words: Holland Vosijk (from A Darker Shade of Magic)

Rhys does morally grey things, but we are unequivocally supposed to see him as a good guy. There is little room for other interpretation there. Same with Feyre. And I can see how people might see Nesta as getting different treatment because sjm has already set the IC up as Good People in acotar-fas, and now that we have someone who doesn't get along with them... tbh, I think it proves my point that she doesn't actually have a lot of nuance in terms of good/bad because we all have such diametrically opposite opinions of Nesta/the IC after acosf. If there were nuance there the whole time, then we always should have been able to see that gray space. And yes, even though we were in first person POV, I still think that.

However, I am getting to my point, which is that ultimately, I don't really care what sjm wants me to think about these characters in terms of moral soundness because her villains are always very clearly not good and her heroes/protagonists are always very heroic despite doing bad things.

And my main main reason for not caring is that I really dislike the view that literature - or any art - is supposed to teach us something. Or is supposed to be a perfect representation of something. If sjm likes the IC a lot and wants to write them that way, then whatever. I'm gonna think of them the way I want to, and maybe that's a stylistic thing on her part that bothers some people, in which case that's fine! I just don't care if the author "punishes" the characters when they do a bad thing and "rewards" them for doing a good thing. Another example - I don't always need racism in a story to be "called out", because I, the reader, feel that I am smart enough to recognize it on my own without the author bashing me in the head with it.

I hope that made sense, I have a lot of complicated thoughts about it!