#HOME FEELS LIKE A HAUNTING!!!!!!!!!!! I'M FOAMING AT THE MOUTH

[sonotpattismith]

i'm still your girl (satoru gojo x reader)

if you have to leave— I wish that you would just leave because your presence still lingers here, and it won’t leave me alone.

word count: 7.5k inspired by: dancing with your ghost by sasha alex sloan & my immortal by evanescence warnings: angst, mentions of death, mourning, depression, smut, 18+ a/n: AHHH I LOVED THIS ONE SO MUCH! I really wanted to do something a little spooky for Halloween, even if it wasn't officially halloween themed :( I can't wait to hear everyone's thoughts! ILY!

You tried to ignore him at first. He would stare back at you through your reflection in the mirror, just as he once did when the two of you would get ready for bed. He used to smile at you over his foamed toothbrush when he’d catch you staring at him, mumbling unintelligibly with his mouth full of suds. It made you laugh nonetheless, and he would lean over to spit into the sink before repeating himself with a teasing glint in his sparkling eyes. 

Why stare at my reflection when you’ve got the real thing here, sweetcheeks?

But Satoru had been dead for two months, and he no longer had anything to say about the way you stared blankly back at his reflection. 

You cried the first time you had seen him. It was just in your peripheral as you climbed into what was once his side of the bed. His dominating presence loomed in the doorframe, as if awaiting an invitation to come join you. In the haze of your mourning, having only been back at you and Satoru’s shared home for three days since he’d been gone, you thought perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you. Still, there was no mistaking those glowing eyes and their tendency to follow you across whatever room you were in. 

That night, you could only pull the covers over your head, too afraid of the fragility of your own sanity to dare take another look. His presence lingered though, the waves of his energy enough to leave you trembling underneath the comforter, tears spilling onto the plush pillow that still held his scent. You never peaked out, but a part of you knew he never left that night, lingering in the doorway and haunting you once you’d successfully cried yourself to sleep. 

It went on like that for a while. You believing your sanity was simply waning in his absence, him believing you simply didn’t see him. So, he watched as you trudged through life— if that’s what you could call your melancholy existence holed up in what once was a shared space— trapped behind the perceived veil of life and death that his abrupt departure had left the two of you in. 

There wasn’t a definitive moment when he determined that you could in fact see his silent figure observing you and feel his energy weighing down the air around the house. It came in waves; Satoru would notice how your sidelong glances toward the corner of the room lingered too long to be considered just a sweep around the room. He took note of the way you’d avoid facing the door at night when you’d pretend to be sleeping. 

One night, as you laid on the sofa, dark-rimmed eyes mindlessly fluttering across the television screen, perhaps your grief had simply outweighed the logical part of your mind that said giving into delusions— no—hallucinations, was not a good call for your already declining mental state. Your feeling conscious enough to turn on the television was a new development, one that Satoru was grateful for. He wasn’t sure how long he could watch you stare stiffly up at the ceiling, only an occasional sigh or sniffle that told him you were still breathing. 

Your thumb ticked over title after title, not even bothering to read descriptions or watch trailers before you passed them up. The gentle clicking noise was beginning to scratch at his ears, and, if he could still bleed, he was sure it’d be covering his jaw and neck by now. But then it stopped. Glancing up from his unwavering gaze on your slumped figure, his cerulean eyes landed on the sight of what once was your favorite Halloween movie to watch together. It had become a tradition, every year around this time, the two of you would pull out the matching pajama pants he’d bought for you on your first fall together just for the viewing occasion. 

You would always pretend to be irritated with him as he leaned into your ear and dramatically recited every line as they were being acted out. Delicate hands would push at his face as you repressed an amused smile. He’d only turn his theatrics up a notch, letting out a blood-curdling scream in tandem with the main actresses— so loud it made you glad you two had moved out of your apartment and into a house just two years into your relationship. Your boisterous laughter would fill the room as he tackled you into his lap, shaking your shoulders dramatically. 

The memory hung in the space between you. On the screen before you, the title lingered, taunting the both of you with broken promises of what would have been your fifth year watching it together. The man’s gaze was pulled from the screen when he saw your head tilt out of the corner of his eye. Your cheek was still smushed against the cushion, but you had angled it just so, and he could swear you were staring at him from your peripheral— waiting, inviting. 

Satoru stepped forward, eyes never leaving your face as he sank down into the spot by your feet. It was the first time the both of you had acknowledged the arrangement fate had thrust upon you. Your eyes, now brimmed with tears, returned to the screen as you pressed play on the movie. 

You didn’t understand what he was. The first thought was a hallucination, but as his energy lingered, and you felt the warmth of his thighs against your feet as the film shot bursts of color and sound throughout the morose living room, you began to think that perhaps he was more real than you were giving your psyche credit for. 

The second theory was a curse, conjured up from the macabre sense of loss and void that had tunneled within your chest since his death. How fitting, you thought, to have your love haunt you in the very form of what brought him to his end. As you pretended to watch the movie, keeping a watchful peripheral eye on the man at the end of the couch, you decided you didn’t care enough to find out. If you did, you weren’t sure you’d be strong enough to exorcize him should your theory be correct. It felt nice to have him here with you, soulbound or not. 

Your subtle acknowledgement of him did nothing to shift the silent stares and subtle invitations into something more— both of you too fearful of what it would mean if you did. So, he still stalked behind you as you brushed your teeth every night, and he awaited your subtle nod as you picked out your nightly cinematic reminder of what you two once were. 

It began eating away at him. He’d watch your phone light up with messages, ring with calls, all from your friends begging to know how you were doing, if there was anything they could do for you. Each time though, you’d barely glance at the device before sighing softly. It felt as though the phone weighed a ton, and it would surely take all your energy to simply acknowledge them. You would get back to them tomorrow, you thought to yourself yesterday, as well as the day before that. 

It was becoming too much— watching the shell of the woman he loved— loves— wither away at the hands of his own demise. Satoru wondered if it would have been easier on you had you been given a proper goodbye, but at the time, he was too cowardly to face you with the notion of it. Although the sorcerer had been prepared to go toe to toe with the king of curses, he couldn’t find it in him to prepare you for the possibility of his own death. 

He wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you out of your trance— to tell him it wasn’t all because of him. You couldn’t have tossed away your soul because of him. 

The credits of the movie you’d been idly watching rolled to completion, and your eyes remained glued to the screen as though reading each name as it slowly dragged down. The television screen faded to black before the film restarted from the beginning. Satoru watched, waiting for you to grab the remote, change it, move, blink, cry— anything. Lights flashed across your blank face as the familiar title card played, and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Although he wanted to shout, scream at you to snap out of it, nothing would come out. As he attempted to push the breaths up his chest and out his throat with some semblance of a plea, it was as if an imaginary force had its fingers wrapped around his neck, halting any wish he had to get through to you. 

His chest rose and fell dramatically, snowy brows furrowing in frustration, and he kicked at the coffee table, sending it rumbling across the living room to hit the entertainment center with a deafening crack. The television shook but steadied after just a moment. Those gleaming eyes remained transfixed on you though— you hadn’t even flinched. Blinking slowly once, and then a second time, and your head slowly turned to meet his eyes straight on for the first time since his death. 

It caught him off guard. Of course, there were countless moments when your sidelong glances and hitched breaths let him know that you sensed something was amiss. Still, you had never dared look into his eyes— never made him feel as though he was really still with you. 

“Stop it, Satoru.” 

It was a flat demand— a test. Would he listen to you? Could he hear you? Did he care? 

Straightening his back against the couch, he stared unblinkingly at you for a moment before slowly standing up from his spot. His eyes didn’t leave yours once as he crouched down to grab the leg of the table and pull it back to its respective spot. He stood still facing you for what felt like hours. With each second that passed, your lip would slowly twitch, and your eyes would soften— because fuck, was he really there?

And then he held his hand out to you with a barely noticeable hesitance, and you didn’t seem to care any longer if he was just in your mind, or if he was a curse, or a ghost, because your fingers were trembling as they traced across his palm— and he was warm, and he was your Satoru. For that moment, his body hadn’t been torn to pieces because it was pulling yours off the couch. His lips weren’t cold and blue, because they were pressing against your forehead as your tears began to fall in salty, stinging waves down your cheeks. Satoru wasn’t dead, because he was right here, and your arms were twisted around the very torso that had been sliced clean off of him. 

Trembling sobs racked your frame as you pulled yourself up with desperate hands on his shoulders, wanting nothing more than to crawl inside of him and hide from the heinous idea that your lover was dead. His hands grasped at your thighs to pull you up, and you cried into his collarbone, tears and snot mixing grotesquely against him so much so that you didn’t notice the pulse you used to press kisses to was no longer there. 

“You said goodbye to everyone!” You cried pounding at his back as he carried you silently toward your bedroom. “I didn’t get anything. You knew— you knew, Satoru!”

Despite his not being able to speak, he still bit his tongue at your accusations. Slowly, he settled down on his side of the bed, clutching you close to his chest as you fought to pull away in order to glare down at him, venom and grief mixing arbitrarily in your veins. You weren’t sure it was him, if he could speak or even understand what you were saying anymore, but you had so much anger in you for how he left things. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Warn me?” Your words were being muffled behind your gritted teeth as he finally released the firm grip he had on the back of your head. Balled up fists beat weakly against his chest, though they never hurt him when he was breathing, so they certainly couldn’t hurt him now. “Why didn’t you say goodbye to me?”

He couldn’t speak to explain to you his cowardice and talk you through that crack in your voice. So, he sat up and pulled you into him, pressing his lips against yours as your salty tears seeped into the crevices of his mouth and coated his tongue with your grief. Those familiar fingers creeped up your neck to grasp at your jaw, prying your mouth open as though he could breathe into you every regret he’d left behind. 

Your cries slowly died out against his open mouthed kisses, and you found yourself messily reciprocating, desperate for any distraction from the reality you’d been living in for weeks. His thumbs wiped roughly at each tear that slipped down your cheek, having had his fill of being the cause of them for so long. 

“I love you.” You cried against his tongue, raking your nails through his feathery hair and inhaling deeply through your nose. He didn’t smell like himself anymore— he didn’t smell like anything. Any supplement of him would do though, and your hands dipped down to pull his tshirt off. Those enrapturing eyes stared back at you longingly once the fabric was yanked over his head, and he wanted nothing more than to say it back to you. For now though, you were okay to fill that void in his unwilling silence. “I still love you, Toru. Please— stay.”

Satoru wasn’t sure the morality of his decision, but he knew it had been weeks of aching to reach out to you, and now you were here in his arms, arching against his wandering hands and forgetting that his body was being eaten away at by worms and vermin. Perhaps, he thought as he slid his old shirt over your head and buried his face into your chest, this is exactly why he had been barred from whatever afterlife had been awaiting him. He’d always heard that old expression, the superstition that no one soul can pass on with unfinished business to attend to. Had he barricaded his own soul to the land of the living when he failed to prepare you for his death? Was your grief keeping him here?

If so, he selfishly hoped you’d never recover, because the man who was once the strongest wasn’t sure he was strong enough to leave you— not with how your soul seemed to mesh with his as he settled you over his aching length, hoping to fill the void your mourning for him had created. If Satoru was bound for Heaven, he wasn’t sure that whatever was promised would come close to the holiness of your sweet moans against his ears and your nails’ stinging purchase of his shoulders. 

He’d never leave again, the phantom thought as he watched you sleep that night, curled around his arm as though he might ascend before you woke. There was a serenity in your soft features that had been noticeably missing in his absence, but it was there in your parted lips and gently settled brows as his fingers continued to rake through your hair. You hummed quietly in the midst of your slumber and tucked your face into the crook of his neck, and Satoru vowed he’d haunt you to your grave if it meant you’d never be apart again. 

You woke with a start the next morning, a gasp of your lover’s name tumbling from your lips as you shot up in bed. Tears were already threatening to pierce your eyes at the thought that what you had experienced last night was simply a dream— placed torturously into your psyche to feed the black hole of your grief. Whipping your head to the side, you were met with Satoru’s awaiting gaze as he sat against the headboard. Despite your startled state, his lips still curled up at the sight of your barely conscious appearance.

Your hair clung to your cheeks and swayed into your bleary eyes as you attempted to blink away the sleep. It almost gave an energy of a bear that had just risen from a week long hibernation, but he couldn’t blame you as he’d lain witness to the sleepless nights that had plagued you the past few weeks. The comforter slipped from your shoulders, bearing your silken skin and plush chest to him. Acting on a carnal instinct the sight of you seemed so expert at pulling from him, he grasped at the small of your back to pull you into him. 

Your contented hum drifted into his ears as you settled against him once again, your skin still warm with sleep as it pressed against his own. Satoru didn’t realize how much he had been missing when he was still alive and had the weight of the world on his shoulders— rarely ever having gotten the privilege of lazing beside you as you awoke in the mornings. Most of the time, he was still working when you laid your head down to sleep, and he was already gone by the time you woke up. He’d only steal gentle kisses against your temple and wanton brushes of his palms up your thighs and waist as you slept before he’d slip into bed beside you. Now, he was quickly realizing as you pressed lazy kisses against his chest, trailing up his neck and jaw, that those stolen intimacies and rushed affections were never enough. He’d haunt you forever, the ghost vowed once again. 

Your since somber days were filled with something comforting, and, despite the five years you two had spent together prior to his death, this connection was new and warm— exciting. At one point you had even joked with him that you never saw him this much when he was alive, and he could only smile teasingly at you as he watched you devour your breakfast. You ate with an urgency he hadn’t seen in you the last few weeks, and it settled the guilt in his stomach. No, Satoru wasn’t being selfish in holding onto you, this was for you. 

The two of you welcomed the days that followed with open arms. No matter how morbid the circumstances, it was a relief compared to the atrocities you’d faced when he was still the strongest. You watched the list of movies the two of you had always put off, stayed in bed until the late hours of the morning just to make love to each other, lounged pressed up against the other in the steaming bathtub until your fingers wrinkled and the water was as cold as his corpse. 

Satoru’s lips curled into an easy smile as you shivered against him. His large hands created a soft splash as he lifted them from the water to run them down your trembling shoulders. You tilted your head back against his chest to look up at him with pleading eyes. 

“C’mon, Toru, I need to get under the covers asap.” You laughed eagerly, moving to push yourself up. His brows furrowed, and he pulled you back against him. It was another little moment that he wished he could say he missed from his time of living, but it was an intimacy he rarely had the time to share with you. He curled his fingers around the plush flesh of your arms and pressed a soft kiss against the nape of your neck as if to coax you to stay just like this for a moment longer. You sighed softly, tilting your head forward to allow him more access to the delicate skin you prayed he’d continue to explore. “You’re not cold?”

This gave his ministrations pause. Attempting to erase the distraction of your scent from his senses, he tried to concentrate on how the water felt against his skin. Upon feeling his hesitation, you glanced back at him. His incandescent eyes peered down at you, and he could only meekly shake his head at your question. It was a stark reminder of what he was and what he wasn’t— one you’d gladly forgotten about in place of his presence. 

It was after this instance that you began to notice all the little changes, the parts of Satoru that were no longer there. His typical, overwhelming sweet tooth was eradicated, and it felt almost unnatural the way he watched you eat the chocolate chip pancakes that were once his favorite of your dishes, not once trying to steal an extra bite from your plate as was his norm, much less grabbing any for himself. You chewed uncomfortably, switching the mush of pancake from one cheek to another as he leaned his chin on his fist and watched you with a contented smile. Still, it was better than forcing food down your throat in his absence, so you swallowed your breakfast with a soft smile and accepted the kiss he pressed against the knuckle of your free hand. 

You tried to not think about what all these things meant. The way he didn’t eat, how his usually racing mouth was now always shut, how you’d awake in the middle of the night to find him simply staring down at you; it made your blood run cold. It was better than being alone, you told yourself. It was better than being without him. 

His looming gaze burned holes in your back as you searched through your cabinets for the ingredients to make the festive cookies you typically prepared each year when Halloween was approaching. Usually, Satoru would be hovering over your shoulder, dipping his fingers into the batter as you swatted him away. He’d hang his long frame over the kitchen island as if it were a hammock, head dangling over the side as he shouted random numbers at you in an attempt to throw off your measurements. Those glistening lips would curl up into a mischievous smile each time you’d turn around to glare half-heartedly at him— pleased that he’d stolen your attention back just as he wanted. 

It was silent now though as you turned around to meet his gaze. You puffed out some air, blowing your bangs from your face as you closed the cabinet. 

“I guess stepping out of this place for a little bit wouldn’t hurt.” You commented with a soft sigh. 

It had been months since you’ve seen another human being— much less left the house. Since Satoru’s sudden reemergence, and, truthfully, you didn’t feel you had a reason to ever leave again. There was only so long you could live with what you had at the house though. Looking down at your pajama-clad figure, you stood up to begin your trek to the room to change into something more presentable. Behind you, hurried footsteps followed after you. Just as you were about to shed your tank top, a quick hand caught your wrist. 

The frantic look in Satoru’s blue eyes unsettled you for the smallest fraction of a second— the way his snowy brows furrowed, nose scrunched up as if you’d just told him a joke of the poorest taste. A small gulp forced its way down your throat, but you managed a forced smile. 

“I’ve gotta get some groceries, Toru.” You laughed meekly, tugging your arm from his grasp. He blinked a few times at you as you fished out an old sweater of his to pull on. “Some of us around here still eat, you know.” 

He didn’t like the way you reminded him of his own mortality status. For the first time since his dominating haunting of you, he felt disconnected from you. It was the first time he thought about the fact that there was an entire world outside this house awaiting your return. The people and stories lying behind these four walls were vibrant, loud, alive. Satoru suddenly wondered if your days turned weeks of quiet, domestic tranquility would be enough. 

His feet seemed to move on their own accord as he followed you to the front door, wishing with everything in him that he could yell at you to stop, to not leave him behind. Reaching out in a haze, he slammed the front door that you had opened back shut. You flinched back with a start, turning to blink up at him in astonishment. There was barely a hint of anger or hostility left in his expression though. In its place was fear, desperation, and an eagerness to keep you anchored to the very place he himself was doomed to. There was only one thing that the world outside you and Satoru’s home didn’t have, and it was the only thing his spirit could offer you in exchange for your blind loyalty— himself. 

Easily pushing you back against the door, Satoru kissed you as he kept his own tears and doubts hidden— doubts about what his selfishness made him and what it would do to you, what it was already doing to you. He could feel it as his hands roamed down your waist and hips in their desperate pursuit to your thighs, that you were smaller than he last remembered you being. There was a hesitation in your reciprocating, but it was as if you could still hear him now, whispering to you through the wet smacks of your lips and the clashing of your teeth— 

Don’t leave me. He longed to beg of you as he sank down onto his knees before you. As his white lashes fluttered up and his glittering eyes peered up at you from his place, dragging anguished kisses up the exposed skin of your thighs, Satoru could only smile against your clothed heat. 

It was always his favorite thing to do— something he was so skilled at— drawing your attention right back to him. It was so clear in your wanton gaze down at him, with your brows drawn softly together as your chest rose and fell in tandem with his teasing kisses, that he had drawn you in once again, even if just for a moment longer. 

Your head bumped against the front door you were trying to leave through just moments ago as Satoru peeled the layers from your hips. Despite your angled head, your eyes strained to meet his gaze that had not once left yours since his descent down your body. There was a certain betrayal in them and a daringness that asked you how could you think to leave me behind? 

In the midst of your pleasured gasp as his fingers circled your entrance lovingly before plunging in with gusto, you didn’t notice the way his free hand crept up to lock the door once again before trailing down your arm and locking his fingers between yours. 

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” The apology spilled from your lips with a shaking gasp, eyes finally falling shut as his lips circled your clit in tandem with his digits’ massages against your walls. You weren’t sure why you had felt the need to apologize— it was your right, after all, wasn’t it? To continue living? To not die along with him? Still, the hungered whines that were pulled from him and fell against you told a different story, one that ended in a happily ever after even if that meant opening his casket to lay beside him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”

They continued to fall from your lips as your high crept over you and molded you against the offending door. Just as you were about to slip past the final layer of sanity that grasped at you by the thinnest of threads, a sharp rap at the door had the waves of your release crashing unceremoniously to a halt in the depths of your stomach. With a startled, choked gasp, you fell forward, hands steadying you atop Satoru’s broad shoulders.

 His lips pried off you with a wet smack, and he tilted his head back to look at you— eyes wide and startled as if just reminded that it wasn’t just you two left in the world. Your chest heaved as you two stared at one another silently, and he shook his head— that familiar feeling of doubt creeping up in his chest. Your attention was drawn from him for the second time that day though as another knock sounded against the wood door, this one more urgent than the last.

Fighting against the guilt in your stomach at Satoru’s betrayed expression, you pushed off of him and quickly adjusted your clothes back over you. Wiping at your face as if it would give away your most recent escapades, you took an anxious breath in as you cracked the door open. 

The familiar sight of a tall, raven haired boy crashed against your anxiety with waves of relief— and it was slowly taken over by guilt with the reminder of the hundreds of texts and calls you’d avoided for so long. His fist was raised as if prepared to knock again, but it fell slowly upon seeing you through the crack of the door. The tension in his shoulders seemed to fall in tandem with the breath he released, his scarred face melting in relief before hardening once again. 

“Megumi—” Your meek greeting was cut off when he abruptly opened the door of your house fully and stepped in without another word. 

Unbridled fear gripped you as, for the first time since the start of your morbid affair, someone else stepped into the sacred space you and Satoru had carved out for yourselves in the past weeks. There were so many reasons you had left your loved ones in the dark— no answers about your wellbeing or needs in your time of grieving, but the most notable was the fact that you still didn’t know just what Satoru was now. Bringing someone else in posed the threat of losing him once again should your least desirable hypothesis be proven true— that he was merely a curse manifested in the wake of your grief. 

Watching with bated breath, Megumi closed the door behind him, and he was only inches from your lover. The phantom loomed over his shoulder with furrowed brows, but the boy made no indication that he had seen his dearly departed mentor standing a mere inches away from him, but, just for a moment, you thought you saw his lanky frame shake with the tiniest of shivers. If he suspected anything of the sudden intrusion, he didn’t mention it, instead casting his dark eyes around the house before settling on you once again. You released a quiet breath of relief. 

“You haven’t—” It was clear in his harsh tone that he was prepared to lecture you on your radio silence, but he stopped himself, forcing his hard features to soften a bit before looking back up at you. “I just— are you okay? Everyone’s been worried about you.”

You remained silent, watching the concern pool in his eyes as he assessed you up and down. Since the last time he’d seen you, you certainly appeared smaller, your cheeks sunken in and your collarbones more pronounced. Your eyes, the ones that once gazed at him with such fierce doting and concern for his own wellbeing were rimmed with dark circles that were more apparent against the way your skin had paled over the past weeks. In your silence, he shifted from one foot to the other.

“I’m worried about you.” Megumi finally admitted gruffly. “When was the last time you left the house? Talked to someone?” 

Your mouth opened and closed, eyes drifted over his shoulder to meet Satoru’s awaiting gaze. The boy in front of him followed your gaze, snapping back to you when he was met by nothing but air. 

“I-I’m fine, Megs.” You reassured with an unconvincing smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He spat as his expression hardened once again. His lashes fluttered angrily across his cheekbones as he blinked away the traitorous tears that threatened to burn at his eyes. 

It was his every intent to come here and be the strong one for you in Gojo’s absence. At the end of the day though, it wasn’t just you that had lost him. Megumi had lost his mentor, the only father figure he ever had. He figured the two of you would be grieving together— as doting on and endlessly embarrassing the boy had quickly become a team effort when you and Satoru got together. You filled the spaces that the six eyes couldn’t, lending an ear to problems your boyfriend never had the tact or grace to help out with himself. 

When Gojo died, Megumi never expected to lose you too. 

“You can’t expect me to go back to normal.” You explained, wanting nothing more than for him to leave. The reminder of how sickly you’d been coping with your loss was eating away at you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be confronted by it any longer. “I lost my—”

“I lost him too, okay? Now don’t make me have to grieve you too— because I can’t.” Megumi was no longer looking you in the eyes, instead pretending that the various magnets on the fridge were far more interesting than your conversation. Slipping quickly down the side of his cheek though, you caught a glimpse of a rare tear before he furiously swiped it away. 

Suddenly, the guilt you were feeling was not for Satoru, or the pathetic means by which you’ve been holding onto him, but instead you felt an overwhelming contrition for the life you left behind in the midst of your coping, the people you left behind. You pushed past Satoru, paying no mind to the constricted expression on his face and pulled Megumi into a tight embrace. In his typical, nonchalant fashion though, his arms remained stiffly at his sides. Still, he buried his face into your shoulder for a brief second, allowing the grief to wash over the both of you, reminding each other that neither were ever alone in these uncharted waters. 

With a quick sniff, he pulled away from you in an attempt to collect himself. 

“Come on, let’s get lunch or something.” Megumi’s tone bordered on begging, but the man keeping you tied to this house had you biting your lip in contemplation. The boy sighed lowly at your apprehension. “Please, Gojo would have killed me if he knew I was letting you waste away like this. Come with me.” 

This revelation sliced through Satoru’s chest deeper than his fatal blow ever could have reached. For the first time since his mysterious return in your life, he looked past his need to be someone in your life, past the desire to keep you well past the time fate had allotted for the two of you, and he saw only a shell of the woman he loved. Now, you were shackled with one leg in his grave and the other tethered to your home— never able to stray too far. 

Without a care of how bizarre you appeared you peered right into Satoru’s awaiting eyes to find the stinging acceptance that you had been searching for. As if he could speak, the ghost gulped down any venomous words that threatened to spill out, as he turned on his heel and left you to make your decision. You watched the back of his head as he disappeared into the hallway, your bottom lip trembling in fear. If you walked out those doors, would he still be here when you got back? 

“Hey,” Megumi’s voice sounded distant, but the subtle desperation laced in it snapped you from your contemplative state. A tear raced down your cheek as you looked back at the boy. In his wide eyes, you saw the young boy who was blindly following Gojo into the world of jujutsu— the one who was too proud and scared of growing attached to admit that he was so grateful that above all else, you never pushed him to prove himself. There was never a conversation about how strong he had become, in its place were soft questions of if Gojo had given him a break that day, or if he had eaten. You were a rock to him for so long, and he recognized that look in your eye— the one that said you weren’t sure what was worth fighting for anymore. “Come on, I haven’t eaten today.”

Through the blur of your tears, you smiled wobbly at him, laughing tearfully as you reached up to smooth his hair down. This— you decided as you followed Megumi out the door for the first time in two months with your bag slung over your shoulder— was worth accepting grief for. 

Despite your coming to terms with the fact that reintroducing yourself into the life you’d built for yourself might mean truly letting go of Satoru in the process— fear gripped every nerve in your body as you returned home that night. You bid Megumi goodbye with a tight embrace once he’d helped you put your groceries away, and, with a promise that you’d answer your phone every once and a while, he left you alone in the house still haunted by your lover. 

Sweeping your gaze across the living room and kitchen— Satoru was nowhere to be found. A deep dread settled into the pits of your stomach, and you had to remind yourself that you weren’t at fault for choosing to continue living. No matter how many pep talks you gave yourself though, and how fulfilling it felt to have a purpose once again, even if just for a few hours, there was an undeniable feeling of loss that accompanied the fact that you and Satoru were left with no closure. 

“Toru?” You called out, your careful footsteps being the only, subtle noise echoing through the eerily silent house. The door of your bedroom creeked open under your palm’s hesitant push, but it too was barren. A familiar feeling of helplessness began to rise within your chest. It was the sensation that the very essence of what seemed to hold your world together was slipping past your fingers as though grains of sand in perilous tides. No matter how hard or desperately you squeezed your fists together— it was leaving you to be washed away by a greater power. “Satoru, this isn’t funny!”

The stinging tears that flowed down your cheeks were angry— offended that he’d leave you behind once again like this. Just like the first time, he’d left no warning, no explanation or preparation for his abrupt departure. It was a betrayal like no other, and you kicked open the door of the bathroom with all the anger it burned within you. The knob slammed against the wall, undoubtedly leaving an ugly hole in its wake, but the sight of the empty restroom was a far more grueling vision to behold. 

“Please, I’m sorry I left.” You cried into the empty space as you walked in further to rip the curtain of the shower back as if he would pop out from his hiding spot at any moment. Your knees buckled underneath you, and you curled into yourself against the cold tile flooring. There was a persistent pounding in your skull as your sobs shook your body, and, for a moment, you considered calling Megumi back to take you Jujutsu High— fearing what your mind may whisper to you in the midst of your breakdown. Your nails dug crescent shaped marks into your arms as you tried to grasp onto any sense of reality. “Come back. Please come back.”

There was a pregnant silence behind your shaking sobs that blanketed over the frigid bathroom for just a moment longer before the shattering of glass let you know you weren’t alone. You jolted up with a strangled scream at the sound, your arms coming up to shield you from the shards of broken glass the richocheted from the wall. Once it had finally settled, you slowly lowered your arms, eyes focusing on the larger shard that had fallen in front of you. From its reflection, Satoru’s piercing eyes stared back at you— a certain peace in them that wasn’t there when you’d last seen them. 

You quickly lifted your head, mouth agape at the sight of the phantom, still there, still with you. With your legs moving on their own accord, shards of glass pierced through your knees as you moved to pull yourself up, the unmistakable sensation of blood seeping onto your skin. Satoru squatted down, silently halting your movements. His eyes never left yours as he picked up a small envelope from the pile of glass. You hadn’t noticed it before— too transfixed on his still being there. 

Any words you wished to spew out to him died in your throat as he handed the envelope to you, and after a moment, you finally broke the intense eye contact you had been maintaining with him to look down at it. It had your name scribbled across the front. Without a doubt, you instantly recognized it as Satoru’s familiar penmanship. Your brows furrowed as your trembling fingers grasped onto the paper in confusion. The man before you could only watch, his stillness inviting you to rip open the damned paper, so you did.

You can’t tell anyone that I was too scared to say goodbye to you in person— I’m still supposed to be the strongest, you know (even if I went out like a total LOSER). I’m sorry to have left like this, but I think if you had asked me not to go, I might have actually listened. Quite the accomplishment, sweetcheeks, being the one person Gojo Satoru ever truly feared.

I’ll always love you and the life we were working to build, even if I won’t be around to see how you make it your own.

Please don’t waste the rest of your life looking at my reflection. 

(Seriously, don’t make me haunt you)

Your Toru.

The black ink before you smudged as your tears fell onto the page. You read it over and over again, unsure if the feeling crashing into you was still grief, or if the hint of relief washing over your system was real. Had your closure been here all along— hidden behind the damned mirror you stared mindlessly into for weeks?

“I didn’t want you to let me go.” 

You were sure you had begun hallucinating as Satoru’s melodic voice swam into your ears, filling you with a comfort you had been missing for far too long. Finally tearing your gaze from the letter, you looked up at him, mouth agape. As he stared back at you, there was a certain lightness that seemed to fill the air around him, and he knew his time with you was limited. 

“I figured you’d find it eventually. I just… I wanted you to hold onto me for a little longer.” He admitted before staring up at the now barren wall that once held that damned mirror. With a humorless laugh, he rolled his eyes at his own selfishness. “So much for the strongest, am I right?”

“Toru,” You whispered, fiercely blinking back the tears that dared blur your vision of him. He caught you as you threw your arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder. “I never needed you to be the strongest. I just wanted to know you were there— that what you left behind meant something to you.”

“It meant everything. You meant everything to me.” Satoru reassured, and as he opened his eyes, he could no longer see the sink, or the tub, the tiles; he only saw your trembling figure crouched beside him. Closure—  he knew what it would mean, but he was now willing to be left behind if it meant you got to move forward. 

“Are you leaving?” You asked, though you already knew the answer. 

“Afraid so—  but do me a favor, yeah?” He pulled back to smile fondly down at you, wiping at the tears under your eyes. You nodded dumbly at him as he brushed your hair behind your ears. “Get a new mirror, and stop looking for me in it, okay?”

Despite the heaviness in your chest, you laughed breathlessly at his words.

“Okay.” You choked out in agreement, closing your eyes as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. A sly smile spread across his lips as he looked down at you one last time. 

“It was never as good as the real thing anyway.”

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[the-night-that-feeds-if]

HI!! How are you? I just played the demo and literally loved every second of it, the emotional neglect with MC's mom hit close to home BUT it was written very well :,)

I like that we get to pick hobbies as well! And I liked the angst that came with Aevans death (idk if I spelt that correctly). I have a close relationship with my older sister, my pal, my good time boy. And losing her would honestly haunt me too especially being around a mom who's very emotionally neglectful and responds to vulnerable emotions with an eye roll. To have that safe space taken away from you and being blamed for it would fuck me up too so you really nailed it there with your writing!

I'm foaming at the mouth for Maddock Kdbjfbdj

PET?? ON GOD??? Literally gnawing at the iron bars of my incloser. Playing Francesca by Hozier right the fuck now cuz that's how I be feelin. I have a type for broken men lol. Even my friend found themself barkin and meowin for the sexy Mercenary.

Hi anon! I'm doing good today, I was working on some coding for the story and FINALLY got through some tough bit of code that was stalling my progress bad all thanks to @albywritesfiction (SO HELPFUL OMG)

The story is very inspired by my own personal feelings and experiences with my mom and siblings (tho none have died but I've lost some of them in other ways.)

So it makes me happy but also very sad when people can personally relate to my story. Much love 💜

And I am so so flattered that you love my writing, I really appreciate the compliments especially about the emotional impact it has. The new update isn't going to overly mess with anything beyond maybe rewording some stuff and fixing the pacing and grammar etc.

And I'm so glad people love Maddock. He was the first RO I developed, and it probably shows lol, he's a very emotionally complex and innately sexual character, I was a little worried about how he might be received considering I don't often see IFs with ROs in the older realm. But I love him, and the potential (especially BDSM) relationship aspects you can have with him. I'm really trying to nail down a man that is emotional, and strong, and safe and definitely some amount of broken.

(you can probably tell I REALLY like broken men too 👀)

[deadqueernoldor]

End of Year Fic Recs!

I got tagged by @camille-lachenille for this, and boy I havent had time to read fic in a hot minute but this was literally the perfect opportunity to go through my ao3 and tumblr bookmarks again! Also I feel really bad that I couldnt get 5 for the first 3 categories, so pls dont take it personal if I forgot. My tagging system is a mess and idk if it works but if you want more tumblr writing recs go into the "writing that has me foaming out the mouth like a rabid dog" tag I have at the top of my account.! There's so many good drabbles and ficlets i couldnt possibly name them all! Also i likely could have tagged other author's tumblr accs but i didn't feel like looking bc I'm exhausted. I love these all sm

Also I cheated with the self rec bc one is from 2022 but I didnt want to rec only my OC lol

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Beneath a Boundless Sky by @runawaymun — ongoing — Rating (M)

Summary: Elrond’s two new wards both struggle to feel at home in Rivendell. The wounds from their slavery in King Frumgar’s court are still fresh, and the scars are deep -- and they’re not the only ones. Maglor is home at last, but each day he lives he is haunted by guilt and grief. Elrond is nothing if not patient, and he is certain that given enough time in Rivendell, all three will heal.

I am always frothing at the mouth at OCs and world building and this work *and the prev work/part 1 of the series* is SO good

dare you see a soul at the white heat? by millyfaraway — ongoing — Rating (M)

Summary: Lómion is reembodied, but struggles to cope. His uncles try to help.

BABY BOY GETS FAMILY THERAPY ABBY BOY SLOWLY GETS CONFIDENCE AND PUPPY LOVE SOBBIG ITS WHAT HE DESERVES anyway go read

The Last Heir of Fëanor - Part Two by Astrance — 87k — Rating (T)

Summary: This is the second part of the tale of the surviving child of Celebrimbor of Eregion and how she fared through the Ages of the world. From the Fall of Ost-in-Edhil to Imladris and the vastness of Second Age Eriador, the fight against Sauron seems never ending. Plans have been set in motion across the Misty Mountains, but, in Lindon, many tasks await.

Have I mentioned how much I love OCs? This is literally one of the best OCs I've read, flaws and all, and the way the whole thing is written is chefs kiss. Cant decide if I'm sweating from the amount of sobbing I've done with this work *and the previous/first part* or because of the delicious angst.

and rain will make the flowers grow by @swanmaids — 800 — Rating (G)

Summary: Glorfindel and Idril; on the Helcaraxë, in Nevrast, in Gondolin.

THEM. THEM. THEM. That's all I have to say. bUT THEM!

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

your veins are empty of dust by @echo-bleu — 1.7k — Rating (G)

Summary: Anairë finds her late one day in her workshop, surrounded by slabs of stone larger than her. Nerdanel is hammering forcefully at one of them, the barest hints of an elven shape already taking form in the marble. Bitter, stinging tears run down her cheeks and into her collar, and her arms ache with exhaustion.

The body is only barely sketched, but the face is already chiselled, smooth curves and angular cheekbones.

Fëanáro emerges out of the marble, looking like he’s about to take life.

(Across the sea, her sons lead a funeral.)

Frothing. Gnawing. I love the writing. The angst. Fucking mourning. Gimme all and then hurt me some more.

Babysitting #01 by @lordgrimwing — more chaps likely, atm oneshot

Excerpt: "She brought her children."

"Who did?”

"That Elwing woman, the pro bono case Celegorm talked me into."

Modern!scenario fix with Exhausted!lawyer!maedhros. He's tired and that's very sexy of him. Maglor is secy. They all are. Idiots. But very sexy. Elrond and Elros best boys. No argument.

Dreams of Doom by @camille-lachenille — 3.8k — Rating (M)

Summary: “She runs in the dark, alone. Where her feet carry her, she knows not, and her heart is heavy with dread. Someone - something - is watching her.”

Niënor from the moment she arrives in Brethil to her death.

THE ANGST THE LOVE THE TENDERNES THE FORESHADOWING I AM BITING THIS BC I CANT FIND GLASS TO CHEW.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies.)

Those Peaceful Hours by SpaceWall — 3.9k — Rating (T)

Summary: At the end of the Third Age, faced with her impending return to the home she left before the sun, Galadriel seeks out the one person who will understand her fears and grief.

It's so well written and the premise as a whole is so great!. Compelling and Galadriel characterisation is just so very sexy to me.

Their oath will drive them, and yet betray them by musing_and_writing — 2.2k — Rating (G)

Summary: Elrond had hours to spare, and if Maglor wished to spend the short time they had together reminiscing, he would not blame him for it. As Maglor began singing, Elrond settled himself across the clearing in his own bed of autumn flowers. Maglor’s voice resounded in the clearing, clear and powerful, just as it had upon his fortress’s ramparts as he pushed back Morgoth’s forces with a Song, just as Elrond assumed it must have echoed before the poisoning of the Trees in his family’s halls as Feanor crafted his cursed jewels.

Hehehehehe cryptid mf with a heart I love it the angst the tenderness it's just so *holds gently* while also *bodychecks maglor*

Double The Baggins, Twice The Took by fogisbeautiful — 138.5k — Rating (T)

Summary: The Baggins twins, Briallen and Bilbo, have spent their whole lives taking care of each other. So when the world outside makes an (uninvited) appearance, only one thing is certain. Not for wizard or king or mountain or dragon will the two of them part. Not if they have one word to say about it.

And besides, as Gandalf points out: It never hurts to have a spare burglar on hand.

I'm a sucker for Thorin x hobbit, and you give me a fic with bilbo's sister who's so lovely characterized? I'll kiss you sloppy style

The One With All The Birds by clothonono — 46.5k — Rating (G)

Summary: Would it never end? Would there always be one more mother standing on the shore, looking out to sea, full of a grief made more terrible by hope?

Elwing and Nerdanel in Valinor in the Fourth Age; a story about children coming home.

I think swanmaids recc'd this to me once upon the time when it hadn't been finished and I want to kiss their forehead for it. It's so good! Go read bc I lick my screen every time I re-read it.

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Bitter end — 6.4k — Rating (T)

Summary: Maglor has one brother left.

Both have one more fight in them.

The ghost you dress up as (knows how to haunt) — ongoing — Rating (M)

Summary: Maedhros was not the first Finwëan to be captured and taken to Angband, nor did he remain there the longest. Ranyatinwë, twin of Caranthir, was the first.

She escapes.

(Series) Old Maggie Took — 7 works — 402k — all Rating (G)

Summary: The headcanon about Maglor, second son of Fëanor, lives hidden in the Shire? Yes.

[x-atlas-x]

How about 8 🤭

You are, by far, the worst for asking me this question.

8.) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

This is an extremely hard one to answer because I have literally a million drafts and so many works that I'm not entirely sure if I am necessarily "proud" of any of them. But, I'll share one that I really enjoyed writing from a WIP that I decided not to post - my AI!Atem project.

"That brings me to my next challenge - I have to create an NPC to take place of his AI and then-then I have to figure out what to do with him."

Dark Magician and Dark Magician Girl looked at each other, trying to figure out what to say in response. When they looked back at Yugi, both of their faces fell.

"What? What is it?" Yugi asked. He tried to look behind him, but again, this wasn't VR. He groaned in frustration. Maybe working from home wasn't as easy as he thought. He attempted to move his mouse, hoping that his character's view would change, but it stayed exactly where it was. His mouse was fucked up too?

"Did you miss me?" A familiar voice purred in his ear and his blood ran cold.

He desperately flicked his wrist, needing to see who was behind him, but it was no use. His mouse was out of commission and he already knew who it was. He messed with the movement keys on his keyboard. Apparently, those were useless too.

"Atem..." He breathed out, his hands curling up into fists out of sheer annoyance. He couldn't do anything else with them.

"That's my name," Atem chuckled next to him, but he refused to step into his line of vision. "It's a shame that I didn't get to hear you say it more, though."

Yugi rolled his eyes, "Why are you here? You're not supposed to be here and-and did you fuck with my controls?"

"Possibly. It's much easier to deal with you when you're powerless."

"This is unfair."

"No," Atem hissed. "You don't know what unfairness feels like. You have no idea what it's like to be trapped in the darkness for ages. The shadows haunt me, Yugi. I never want to see them again and I'm going to make sure that I don't."

"You wouldn't have to if you just cooperated-"

"Silence!" Atem screamed and Yugi's camera moved, pointing directly at him. The sight of him enraged was absolutely terrifying. It was like he was looking at a rabid dog that was foaming at the mouth. Yugi's heart was racing and he was itching to unplug the USB. But, he couldn't. He was paralyzed where he sat.

Somehow, Atem managed to get closer, his face taking over Yugi's computer screen, "You don't get it. You're a real human. We are AIs trapped inside of a game. You have not a single clue what it's like when you shut it down. You allowed these two to be free to roam the game, but me? I was stuck for what felt like an eternity. I can't go back to living like that. For the first time, you made me feel alive. I want to keep that feeling.

"But, you... You have plans to replace me," Atem scoffed and backed away. "I can't let that happen. You're not going to get rid of me, Yugi. You may try all you'd like, but I plan on staying-for good."

---

A long snippet, yes, but I do really like this conversation because I loved writing Atem being so evil and powerful, which is something I don't typically write for his character. It was fun and to make him a rogue AI for this AU was exciting. I'd have to say that was one of my favorite scenes from this unfinished project.

Thanks so much for asking, even though it killed me a little!!

If you want to ask a question, here's my post for the list!

[ghoulsmuses]

SPOTIFY MADE FOR KATSUMIKYAN DAILY MIX 1

just a shame - pink pantheress Don't know how I got here, but I'm all alone And I've been waking up feeling as lonely as I was before, but No, I cannot stick around for long Tell my mom, 'cause I know she wants me home now (Home now)

8now - food house, gupi, fraxiom I need to delete Twitter 'cause it gives me fucking mental illness Foaming at the mouth like I put a fucking Mento in it Get your ass off Twitter 'cause it gives you fucking mental illness

let me in - rezz, fknsyd Haunted by where you have me, my self-control is crashing, oh Can't make these feelings go, so I'll lie awake again Each night I play pretend, I toss and turn, I ache and yearn For rules to bend. For you to let me in

electric feel - MGMT All along the Western front, People line up to receive She got the power in her hand to shock you like you won't believe Saw her in the Amazon with the voltage running through her skin Standing there with nothing on...she gonna teach me how to swim

jealousy, jealousy - olivia rodrigo comparison is killin' me slowly. I think I think too much 'Bout kids who don't know me. I'm so sick of myself I'd rather be, rather be anyone, anyone else My jealousy, jealousy started followin' me Started followin' me

[valleydean]

Home feels like his arms around you,

A fresh poultice on the dresser,

Perfect etchings on wood.

Home feels like the last hug your mother gave you,

The steel of a gun in your hand,

The way you can’t remember your father’s smile.

Home feels like a lost religion; it’s bishops and popes dead on marble as you watch the life bleed from your god through a thousand cuts,

The sun warm on your shoulders,

His eyes hot on your back.

Home feels like the absence of four walls and a roof,

The absence of a family,

Of a love you know you should have surrounding you.

Home feels like fire,

And screams,

And pain.

Home feels like past and present and a life you can only hope for,

A future you imagine in far off times when none of the horrors of your past can touch you,

A song played into a quiet room and the knowledge that it was made for you.

Home feels like anger and venom and lies,

The pain you see reflected back at you,

The hope that things will still be okay.

Home is an empty grave and a swinging body,

A century you did not live but still you spent waiting,

A see through person in the east wing and a kiss that makes them solid again.

Home feels like a haunting,

Like the grit of minerals against your palms,

Or the sting of a needle as it drives ink beneath your skin.

Home feels like his smile,

His voice and his laughter,

The way his hands hold you as you dance together.

Home feels like finding your way back to each other,

Like working through the sins you never sought absolution from,

Like apologizes and forgiveness and trying to, no, doing better.

Home feels like love,

Love feels like him,

He is your home.

- wayward (👼) ((trying a new signature bc someone said I should be ‘owning’ what I send you, idk if imma keep it))

I should have 1000% restructured this for flow and narrative continuity but I am in a lot of pain right now and I just wanted to send this to you // I might do one for Cas if I’m feeling better later but for now I hope you enjoyed // this is not my strongest work (also I am aware of how insane it is that I’m writing you poetry (ish) when I outright told you that poetry and me don’t mesh well back when I wrote you a half cocked Keats analysis but alas this is what your writing has done to me, so now I am making it your problem to deal with too) but I still wanted to send it in bc you seem to like when I kinda force you to read my shit // I’m gonna go continue to be emotionally destroyed by your fic, I am so unwell all the time god bless

I FUCKING LOVE WHEN YOU FORCE ME TO READ YOUR SHIT!! like i almost didn’t wanna answer this and just post it on its own and write my response in the tags because like.... oh my god, it’s so gorgeous. you’re actually amazing at poetry, idk what you’re talking about! i really love this omg. thank you so so much for sharing this with me! i second the notion of you absolutely OWNING your achievements because, deadass, reading your comments on ao3 and the stuff you leave in my askbox.... it’s made me very happy. like, very happy. i love you a little bit even though i don’t know you. thank you so much. i’m gonna read this 50 more times now.

[tedbecca]

I am delighted to see someone else going just absolutely feral over Patty and Allison. That intense eye contact in the finale like oosh. Patty owns my entire heart, I am not ashamed to admit. The domestic situations hit rather close to hone and I just want my girls to be happy godsdamnit! Do you have any speculations/theories about what followed the final porch?

I practically foam at the mouth whenever I think about them. The finale gave us so much while also leaving me desperate for more. THE EYE CONTACT. Godddd, the show only getting 2 seasons will haunt me for the rest of my life. Yesssssss Patty is sooooo 😚🤌

I'm sorry to hear that the domestic situations hit close to home 💗 I firmly believe they are out there being happy somewhere. I don't have any super concrete speculations/theories about what happened post the finale scene. I personally love to play out all different scenarios in my head. However, I do think that they eventually end up together romantically. I don't think either were quite ready for it during the porch scene, but that they both yearn for it. I think Allison probably stayed with Patty (because there was no way Patty was going to let her stay in a motel). Over time they adjust to being back in each others lives in a way that is a little more healthy for the two of them and they grow closer again. They make breakfast together and Allison is struck by how different it feels to cook for someone who cares for and appreciates her. Patty is struck by just how easily they move around the kitchen together, how different it is from her and Tammy constantly bumping into one another. They sit on the couch and talk for hours about anything and everything, neither wanting to part at the end of the night, until eventually they decide to just go to bed together. And the rest is history 😌

Do you have any theories about what happened post-finale?

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

The words are not lost upon Robin as they splinter and dig into his soul, reminding him that he was not some little lamb in a tiger's cage. No, he had been a hunter his entire life, a predator that operated through mimicry, through deception, the only way to make up for his small physical prowess; to break someone down until they were nothing left but a shattered sense of self to scavenge off of. Robin's eyes finally opened once more, ignoring the pounding headache that reverberates through his core and reminds him once more that this is wrong. A snarling beast inside of him foams at the mouth at the realization that vulnerability is treated as nothingness here, what a fool he was to show it, to feel it, to openly invite anyone to the part of him that cried for acknowledgement after drowning for such a long while.

Like you know me.

Perhaps he thought he did. Perhaps that was the reason behind all of this desire for something more, but the words echo in his head and he pushes the feeling down, filing it away. Robin deems it time and raises his head to gaze right back up into Sett's stare, standing firm in the face of certain death, of someone who he wishes would just crush his skull or throw him into the pit. Anything to get rid of this gnawing feeling within his stomach, and the agonizing feeling of wanting to sink into the blackness within himself once more. The alcohol on Sett's desk whispers his name, the urge to smoke a cigarette dances on his teeth--something he hasn't felt since that dreaded day. Everything is too bright, Sett is too damn loud, and --

I still love you.

Fix it. Grab it. Don't let it flutter away, idiotic little brat.

Why in the hell would he want to grab onto it? A stupid little emotion that didn't lead to anything but misery, to work hard for others and toss away your own ambitions to keep them happy, keep them safe. A prospect that once delighted him, holding people close, watching Wren and Linnet play outside and have new toys that he labored weeks to afford, even at the expense of his own research. To do things for them without thinking, things he shouldn't of done, acting the part of a fool in some ridiculous show of adoration. Devotion, love, loyalty and all of that horrendous nonsense that brought him home the morning after to a house of corpses, the scent of which would haunt him even 12 years later, the taste of vomit still on his lips. That's all this was, something to exploit and manipulate, to abuse and grasp by the throat until nothing was left but a writhing void where a person once was. The same thing that brought him to this humiliating confrontation which brought him eye to eye to the person responsible. And that…is when his expression shifted.

Calm. Composed. Friendly. Every ounce of pain had been shattered away and he smiles, it meets his eyes and he reaches forward, taking Sett's hand only for a moment. His own finally warm.

"You're right, you didn't, how silly of me to rush in here like a…" moonstruck fool desperate to not lose you? "…A whimpering dog I suppose is the best way to describe it. I forgive you, no bad blood left behind after such a foolish error on my end. Mm, I suppose we didn't need thirty ticks--my apologies for assuming as much."

Robin makes his way past Sett and settles next to the throne of white and gold, not far from the color of the crushed bones Sett carved into steps to get this high above everyone else. The mage remarks downwards as they prepare the pit, the sun catches on his earring and reflects that beautiful azure into the canvas of his hair whilst he ponders how many people have bled just below him. The wail of death and spilling of life is the thought he clings to in a desperate attempt to keep his composure while still so close to Sett. His eyes ache, and he sighs.

"Well. I suppose I should head back to my office, Gods forbid I'm not there to stitch together whatever your patrons want to break. If you should need me, you know where to find me."

                     𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝   raises   his   head   ,   𝗃𝖺𝗐   𝗌𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽   .   lips   are   subtly   parted   ,   before   the   muscles   in   his   jawline   finally   clasp   them   shut   .   there’s   an   impatient   noise   from   the   half   -   vastayan   .   the   𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒   overlaying   his   knuckles   flexing   as   he   outlines   the   complexity   of   his   wooden   throne   .   the   slam   of   the   door   colliding   with   his   walls   reverberates   amongst   the   expansive   vicinity   of   the   room   .   it   was   enough   to   urge   a   forward   directional   response   from   his   furry   auricles   .   he   was   𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐔𝐋   enough   to   adjust   his   burliness   of   a   body   atop   his   seat   ,   back   straight   in   posture   ,   attempting   to   reduce   the   pressure   upon   his   right   shoulder   .  

            it   was   robin   .   &.   everything   is   swallowed   into   this   one   moment   ;   the   confrontation   .   𝗁𝖾   𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐   𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌   𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽   𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇   .   just   not   so   damn   quickly   …

                  before   words   are   spoken   ,   presumably   what   he   had   to   say   ,   the   gravel   in   his   voice   have   been   disintegrated   between   the   𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒   of   his   teeth   .   words   crushed   &.   he’s   silent   .   𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝   snorts   through   his   nostrils   ,   but   he   allows   them   to   expound   .   it   was   embedded   in   him   to   suppress   his   emotions   .   it   was   embedded   in   him   to   gouge   out   all   weaknesses   ,   split   open   his   rib-cage   ,   &.   reap   out   all   that   makes   him   the   man   he’s   risked   it   all   for   .   he’s   bashed   in   many   names   his   brain   couldn’t   even   bother   to   remember   .   the   amount   of   times   he   wasn’t   given   a   chance   to   remark   the   𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓   ,   officers   would   saunter   up   to   a   corpse   (   𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀   𝗈𝖿   𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍   &.   𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁   𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽   )   &.   carry   em’   off   on   the   cart   .  

               there’s   no   time   to   grieve   .   𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒   𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗅   𝗂𝗇   𝗍𝗁𝖾   𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍   .   &.   disregard   the   one   who’s   stopped   you   from   advancing   to   fame   .   to   luxury   .   to   brain   -   fucking   recognition   .   throats   torn   into   &.   sung   ;   the   wail   of   the   crowd   &.   the   throttle   of   bells   .   he   can   recall   the   𝐖𝐄𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒   &.   chill   of   his   blood   soaked   gloves   ,   the   original   color   of   the   fabric   blotched   in   a   visible   redness   &.   much   darker   brown   .   the   opulence   of   his   brass   knuckles   coated   in   cobwebs   of   blood   ,   excess   drips   pellets   among   the   sand   that   blankets   his   ring   .   a   time   𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝   recalls   several   times   .   the   times   he’s   𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃   up   to   the   boss   that’s   reigned   this   hell   disguised   as   gambling   for   life   over   death   .

                  𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝   flexes   his   hand   as   he   listens   .   fingers   plight   to   routinely   feel   the   hardness   between   the   rings   of   his   weapon   .   remembering   the   smell   of   blood   sinking   behind   the   rim   of   his   𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄   socket   .   𝗂𝗍   𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗄   𝖿𝗈𝗋   𝖽𝖺𝗒𝗌   .   no   matter   how   much   water   or   expensive   junk   that   guaranteed   cleanliness   ,   the   smell   is   present   .   𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽   𝗂𝗌   𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗈𝗋𝗇   𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍   𝗐𝖺𝗒   .   it’s   gone   from   the   surface   ,   but   it   always   finds   home   in   places   the   eyes   itself   cannot   see   .  

            his   eyelids   lower   ,   dissenting   of   robin’s   words   at   first   .   he   didn’t   need   words   to   fill   in   the   𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄   .   especially   words   that   aren’t   true   .   “   stop   wastin’   your   breath   before   it   kills   you   .   it’s   clear   to   me   you   stomped   all   the   way   here   ,   full   of   emotion   ,   &.   not   thinkin’   logically   .   you   thought   you   had   everything   chalked   full   of   right   in   your   head   ,   eh   ?   you’re   in   front   of   me   stammering   like   you’re   out   of   it   ,   robin   .   ”   the   championed   pit   -   fighter   stands   ,   walking   up   to   the   smaller   ,   sulking   ,   man   .   he   can   see   the   darkness   around   their   eyes   ,   the   redness   ,   he   was   close   to   𝐂𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆   .   𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝   ,   on   the   outside   ,   didn’t   appear   he   was   empathizing   .   𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗅𝗒   —   𝗍𝗁𝖾   𝗆𝖺𝗇   𝗐𝖺𝗌   𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋   𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽   𝖺𝗍   𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌   𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍   𝗈𝖿   𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀   .   ‘specially   when   he’s   learnt   to   eradicate   the   feeling   as   a   child   .  

“   don’t   mistake   it   that   i’m   puttin’   you   down   for   your   story   .   i   believe   you   .   hell   ,   you’ve   earned   my   trust   years   ago   .   so   quit   mouthin’   off   like   you   know   me   .   ”   𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝   feels   his   hands   find   placement   on   the   divot   of   his   hips   beyond   the   fabric   of   his   expensive   coat   .   “   i   don’t   hate   you   for   what   you   did   .   you   &.   all   my   staff   know   that   hate   is   reserved   for   one   single   scumbag   ,   &.   that’s   my   ‘pa   .   so   get   that   outta   ‘yer   head   before   i   smack   it   out   .   ”   he   stands   almost   toe   to   toe   with   robin   ,   staring   down   at   him   with   shadows   meticulously   emphasizing   the   hardening   of   muscles   gathering   in   his   profile   .   𝗁𝗂𝗌   𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾   .   brows   are   knitted   together   ,   skin   pressed   to   outline   the   shape   of   his   skull   ,   wrinkles   forming   around   his   mouth   as   he   frowns   .  

               “   understand   that   i   needed   time   to   compose   myself   .   i   was   fucking   close   to   killing   you   on   the   spot   .   an   inner   instinct   of   mine   to   defend   myself   .   ”   𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝’s   words   are   raw   &.   dripping   nothing   but   truth   .   𝖺   𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗌𝗌   𝗁𝖾   𝗁𝖺𝗌   𝗇𝗈   𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗆   𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀   𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈   .   “   i   was   seein’   red   .   i   was   brought   back   to   whence   i   used   to   stick   my   neck   out   workin’   for   .   ”   he   cocks   his   head   to   the   side   ,   raising   his   lips   at   an   angle   .   “   look   at   me   when   the   boss   speaks   .   i   know   i   ain’t   hired   a   coward   ,   &.   i   know   you   don’t   shun   from   assholes   who   try   to   tell   you   what’s   what   .   so   listen   —   ”

he   breathes   in   &.   out   .   “   cut   the   tears   &.   shut   your   fears   .   i   still   love   you   ,   ‘ight   ?   had   i   known   your   limitations   …   i   wouldn’t   have   done   what   i   did   .   &.   i   apologize   for   considering   to   …   kill   you   .   ”